A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 197

Chapter 197: Tough Battle (4)

Ria became aware of the Altar’s movements only because of the quest.

[Main Quest: The Altar (1)]

Even the weakest of the Altar’s forces could not be underestimated. Though their lack of organization, each of them had become a kind of chimera, their bodies fused with the veins of demonic beasts.

The moment Ria received the quest notification, she wasted no time and rallied everyone within the walls, knowing that even the slightest delay was not to be permitted.

“... Oh!”

Putting herself close to the wall like a barnacle, Ria looked down at the approaching group from the Altar. They were the fanatical cult responsible for the latter stages of the main quest—a specter of the Era of Divine Rule, a shadow of the past, and the personification of evil that sought the continent’s destruction.

Of course, they likely saw themselves as justice personified. However, in a world where people struggle to live, the greatest evil has always been those who believed their own sense of justice was the only right path.

Whummm...

The demonic energy emanating from the Altar’s mages swirled like a violent storm, far harsher, more ferocious, and more malevolent than mana could ever be.

“L-Look at them!” Ria shouted, her finger trembling as she pointed to warn them.

“There’s no need for all this fuss,” Deculein said, giving a pathetic look as he motioned for silence.

“What?!”

"They’re nothing."

What do you mean, it’s nothing?! This professor and his stubborn personality never change, do they? Ria thought in frustration.

Fwoooooooosh—!

The demonic energy of the Altar’s mages bubbled and boiled, condensing as if to channel all its pressure and heat into a single, focused point. From that ominous energy, Ria felt a chilling aura—a looming sense of death drawing near.

Just as she was about to cry out for it to stop...

Snap—

The demonic energy from the other side had vanished—or rather, only faint traces remained. Like damp gunpowder, feeble wisps of smoke hung in the air, trembling with fragility.

“... Pfft.”

At that moment, a faint sound of mocking laughter brushed past her ears, and Ria turned to Deculein, her mind clouded with confusion.

“Hahahaha—”

Deculein let out a laugh—not particularly loud, but for someone like him, it bordered dangerously close to madness. The Altar on the other side seemed momentarily taken aback, though only for the span of a heartbeat, before quickly gathering their demonic energy again and resuming their spellwork. Deculein, in turn, observed them with an impenetrable look.

Zzap—!

Then the sparks burst through the air, not just once.

Fzzt—! Fzzzzzt—!

The sparks flared in rapid bursts, crackling like an electric shock snapping on and off, or like the sharp sizzle of a mosquito caught in an electric fly swatter.

Bzzt! Bzzzzzt—!

Not knowing how long that monotonous stillness had lasted, lost in her thoughts, Ria suddenly came to a realization. A battle of magic typically referred to a destructive clash driven by spells—something far removed from the unnervingly static atmosphere surrounding her now.

However, Ria came to an understanding. The sparks crackling so intensely could be explained by only one thing—what was happening now, what Deculein was doing, was the immediate calculation and deconstruction of magic.

It was Mana Interference—calculating the structure and circuits of the magic circle faster than the caster themselves and interfering with the completion of the spell. Textbook definitions would still classify this as part of a battle of magic.

However, it was almost always the defensive side that relied on this technique. Since the caster of the spell held an overwhelming advantage, such encounters were rarely practical and even less likely to succeed.

The reason was that the defender had to decipher, in the briefest of moments, the type and category of magic the attacker intended to cast—the spells, circuits, logic, and combinations. Using their intuition and knowledge, they had to release their mana and collapse the very core of the spell before it could be completed.

Fzzzzzt—!

Fzzt—!

Therefore, this kind of battle of magic was something almost no mage could hope to achieve, but Ria had seen something like it before.

It had appeared in a scenario she remembered—a moment when Archmage Demakan made his grand debut, deconstructing every spell cast by the rival schools of magic in a battle of magic, a breathtaking display of the power expected of an archmage.

Ria thought, But how could Deculein possibly...

"Oh! Demonic energy!" Ria exclaimed without thinking.

Sniff, sniff—

Ria could smell the demonic energy swirling near the edge of the wall.

Deculein and the Yukline family were defined by their unique relationship with demonic energy. They carried a pathological hatred for demons and were the most dangerous opponents to face. However, the moment they accepted demonic energy, their power transcended human limitations, unlocking strength far beyond their natural capabilities.

Could it be possible that Deculein has an instinctive, almost primal sensitivity to magic created by demonic energy? Is that why he can immediately sense spells imbued with it and deconstruct them completely the moment they take shape and...

"Demonic energy? Ah, you must mean the Yukline bloodline," Ihelm remarked, glancing at Deculein with a faint smirk. "Well, it’s true. The Yukline family does have that tradition—becoming stronger when facing demons or something of the sort."

It wasn’t merely a tradition—it was a fact. Ria glanced toward Ihelm, then turned her eyes back to Deculein.

At that moment, a sudden realization dawned on her. The image of Deculein as an irredeemable villain—shallow, unchanging, and devoid of even a slightest of potential for redemption—had been nothing more than a construct, perhaps even a bias, shaped by the narrative of the scenario.

It was this deeply ingrained notion that had blinded her to any alternative perspective until now.

What if Deculein could be swayed to our side? Or, at the very least, if we could guide his power toward something greater and put it to good use? Ria thought.

When he was going up against demonic energy, he was all but untouchable—no, even now, the sight of him left no room for doubt.

Fzzt— Bzzt—! Fzzzzzt—!

The chaotic sparks that had once filled the air began to fade, clearly signaling that the Altar mages' demonic energy had been completely drained.

"So, is that all?" Deculein murmured.

In other words, when it came to demonic energy, Deculein wasn’t just nearly invincible.

"It was foolish of me to expect anything from the likes of you—wretches who have long since abandoned the last shreds of your humanity."

Deculein was, in every sense, invincible.

“... Not even the slightest bit entertaining. Lunatics, driven beyond madness. Worthless filth, beneath even the most depraved of fools. And with such a pathetic excuse for a system of magic, how dare you stand before me...”

Of course, the exposure to demonic energy seemed to make him far more ferocious and violent than usual.

"Even got the talent for trash talk,” Ria muttered.

Suddenly, Deculein turned around and glanced in her direction.

“... A-Ahem! Ahem! Yeah, that’s right! How dare you!” Ria huffed, quickly lowering her eyes.

***

A heavy silence loomed over the grand hall of the Imperial Palace, where majesty and weighty dignity intertwined. It was as if the world itself had faded to shades of gray, stripped of all vitality. Outside, the steady drizzle seeped into the hearts of the gathered officials, staining them with a quiet gloom.

“... If we hadn’t forced the defenses into place, ignoring the warnings...” Sophien muttered.

Today's assembly in the grand imperial hall was designed for the weighty task of meetings and governmental reports. As Sophien skimmed through the documents sent from the farthest corners of the continent, she shook her head.

“The Empire wouldn’t just be in ruins—it would’ve been wiped off the map.”

The officials remained silent. Among them, Romelock and the theocracy—those who had opposed Deculein’s predictions before the winter arrived—hung their heads so low that it seemed their necks might snap. Now, there was no room for doubt. This southern advance had been the most intense in the Empire’s history.

"Your Majesty, perhaps it would be best to first send the Imperial Knights to the regions in greatest hardship. Furthermore, if we were to secure additional supplies from the Yukline Merchant Guild—"

“I’ve heard enough,” Sophien declared, silencing the officials. “Based on these reports and the current state of affairs, I alone will decide the form, extent, and location of aid and reinforcements.”

These damned officials—except for a rare few—would undoubtedly prioritize aid based on their own hometowns or the interests of their allies and their associates' houses, rather than the needs of the Empire itself.

“But, Your Majesty—”

Just as Romelock was about to quietly raise opposition once more...

“Your Majesty!”

Beyond the open doors of the grand hall, Imperial Knight Gawain and Court Mage Geor rushed forward, their urgency written in the pallor of their faces. Even Sophien held her tongue, refraining from chastising them for the sudden interruption.

“Your Majesty! There is an urgent matter requiring your attention!” Gawain and Geor cried out, dropping to their knees in the grand hall.

"Speak," Sophien said with a sigh.

"Your Majesty, I, Gawain, found last night’s mana disturbance too irregular to overlook. Therefore, I took it upon myself to investigate the gardens and inner walls of the Imperial Palace. And then!" Gawain exclaimed, rising to his feet and presenting a torn piece of a robe.

Sophien recognized it at a glance—a calling card left behind by Rohakan.

"I discovered a torn piece of a robe caught on the bars. Finding it suspicious, I requested for Mage Geor’s analysis, and—"

"Are you saying an intruder breached the Imperial Palace?" Romelock asked, his brow tightening.

"Yes. But there's something even more urgent—no, this isn’t the time for explanations. Mage Geor?!" Gawain said, nodding before growing serious.

Gulp—

Rohakan claims that his days are numbered, but that does not absolve him of his crimes—nor is he the sort to seek absolution. That’s likely why he left behind this trace of himself, Sophien thought.

Those who walk alongside me are doomed to misfortune? My very existence has been nothing but misfortune. And that damned man dared to speak of misfortune when he has never died a hundred deaths, never lived a life defined by nothing but pain and death, Sophien thought.

After living for over a century, to be wondering about it now—it’s almost laughable. But just this once, I’ll entertain the thought for the last time.

... But whether Rohakan’s words were truth or lies, the future he spoke of—by the very act of speaking it—has already become one that will never come to be.

Tap, tap— Tap, tap—

“Ah! It’s an honor to stand before Your Majesty!” said an adventurer from the garden below, grinning up at her as he held up a letter. “A message from Professor Deculein~ Your Majesty.”

“Snore... Snore...”

: Enhanced by Midas Touch, all its effects have been amplified.