A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 207

Chapter 207: Rohakan’s Words (1)

I have one last gift for you. Not as Rohakan, but as a mentor... Oh, of course, I know that I’ve done little to earn the title of your mentor. But what can I say? When you were a child, I took your father’s money and made a promise—to be your mentor myself—and a mage does not break his word.

It was a ridiculous set of sentences.

If it were the original Deculein, he would have ground his teeth in disgrace or humiliation, I thought.

However...

“Primien.”

“Yes, Professor.”

"It’s time to move," I said, eyes still on Rohakan’s letter.

“... I’ll have the horses ready,” Primien said as she stepped outside.

My eyes returned to the words on the letter.

My protégé, when I first came to understand the world, I was already old. But as the world grew, I became young again.

Rohakan awakened his eight categories, accepting old age as its price. Yet, as he mastered his craft, youth returned to him once more.

The magical origin of Rohakan lay in the Worldline—an origin surpassing all others, greater than time, which bound Epherene; space, which shaped Ellie; or destruction, which fueled Adrienne. It was an overwhelming power no human could withstand, a path where mastery meant stepping ever closer to death.

I find myself recalling the first time I met Sophien. A flawless child—so perfect, it was as if she had been sculpted by the hands of a master.

Rohakan’s faint voice echoed through the library, and at its center, a scene flickered like a mirage—magic embedded in the very words.

— You learn quickly, little one. You have an exceptional talent for magic.

— ... How dare you not address me as Your Highness!

Before she was trapped in the infinite cycle of poison and regression, there was Sophien—just a pure, five-year-old child—and Rohakan, burdened by age.

— My, my. Listen to this bold little one. Are you already showing signs of becoming a tyrant?

— What did you just say?!

— Enough of that. Just read this book already.

— What did you just say?!

As a close friend of the late Emperor Crebaim and an honored mage of the imperial palace, Rohakan once taught Sophien through the foundations of magic. Those days were bright and unclouded, awash in shades of blue.

Deculein, I’ve often wondered why you remain so loyal to the imperial family. But in the end, I understood—you, more than anyone, are a disciple of elitism, down to your very bones.

With that voice, the scene changed. In the dim corridors of the Imperial Palace, blood spread in rippling pools, creeping forward until it finally reached the small feet of a child. As crimson soaked into her shoes, she stumbled back, her wide eyes trembling as she stared into the darkness ahead.

— ... Rohakan.

Rohakan did not answer the princess’s call. As Sophien stared blankly at him, her eyes slowly drifted downward—to the blood creeping through the corridor, to the lifeless woman sprawled on the floor, her throat torn open and crimson pooling around her, her vacant eyes having lost their light—her mother.

— ... Why?

At the child's question, Rohakan closed his eyes in silence, letting out a deep breath—one that carried the weight of a sigh—before speaking in a quiet voice.

— Yes. I am the one who killed her.

Rohakan, once a mage admired by all, became the Empress’s assassin. In a single moment, he fell to ruin, branded as the continent’s most feared Black Beast.

There are times, in this world and in the hearts of men, when a lie drenched in blood is more necessary than an untainted truth. No one knows that better than you, Deculein. And yet, I do not wish to speak of lies to you.

The magical vision settled like dust, fading into nothing, and the scene returned once more to the Imperial Palace Library.

Deculein, my protégé, there are still many meetings ahead of us...

The words continued on the next page.

In the future I have seen, Sophien has killed you. Sophien will kill you.

It was yet another foretelling of Deculein’s inescapable fate.

I do not know if these words alone will change the future or if everything they contain is already set in stone. Perhaps you will not believe me at all. You may scoff at my words, dismissing me as nothing more than a wandering prophet. After all, the future I see is one I can never prove.

It was impossible not to believe. These were Rohakan’s words—spoken by the central piece of this world, a man who had seen the future with his own eyes.

Hmm... I can almost hear your voice reaching me even now. No matter—I will wait. In the northeastern vineyard, you may come to find me whenever you wish...

As I reached the final words Rohakan had left behind, countless thoughts swelled and broke like waves in my mind. Yet, in silence, I simply set the document down.

"I’m leaving. See to the books," I said, turning away from Lexil.

"Yes, Professor. Safe travels,” Lexil replied.

As I walked up from the underground, I found Primien waiting with two horses.

"Where are we heading?" Primien asked, holding out the reins.

***

"Oh, Your Majesty, the Professor is leaving," the maid announced, watching from the window.

Beyond the gates of the Imperial Palace, Deculein and Primien rode into the distance.

"You may go now," Sophien said.

“Yes, Your Majesty...”

After watching Deculein for a moment, Sophien rose, stepped out of her bedchamber, and walked through the dimly lit corridor, passing beneath the flickering glow of lanterns. Descending the stairs, she made her way to the underground library of the Imperial Palace.

Creeeak—

As the library doors opened, Lexil looked up from organizing the shelves and approached.

"Lexil," Sophien called.

“... Yes, Your Majesty.”

"What did that man read?"

"This is the last document the Professor read," Lexil said, offering the remaining documents in his hand.

Sophien took the document and flipped through the pages, the rustling pages breaking the stillness. As her eyes swept across the text, she soon caught sight of a passage written in the corner—Rohakan’s words.

Hmm. By now, Deculein, you must be reading this paper. It’s me—Rohakan.

Sophien read in silence, enveloped in the stillness.

... In the future I have seen, Sophien has killed you. Sophien will kill you.

The words written on the page were an unchanging mark. Sophien slowly closed her eyes, then opened them again, clenching her teeth.

“... Your Majesty,” Lexil called, his voice filled with concern.

Before Sophien could respond, Lexil’s magic washed over the document in shades of blue, and from within its mystical glow of mana, thoughts and words began to take shape.

Rohakan, the future you have seen will not be false. More than likely, it is the truth—for no mage can measure the depths of your wisdom.

As if in response to Rohakan’s words, the paper continued.

However, Rohakan, I am Deculein. I will not kneel before a future unwritten, nor can I. For that is my will—that is my pride.

Deculein’s voice hovered at the edge of hearing.

If Your Majesty should one day choose to end me, I will accept it without hesitation. In the end, it would be nothing more than the consequence of the belief ingrained deep into my very bones—just as you have said.

Vividly, as if spoken right before her eyes...

The chosen—set apart from the common rabble. Never ordinary, never tainted. A noble in the truest sense. The head of Yukline, heir to an unbroken lineage.

A display of tooting one's own horn.

Such noble ideals define me, and so, if ever I am to serve another, they must be greater than I—more exalted, more virtuous. They must be, without exception.

The next page turned, carrying the weight of his heart.

Thus, I have chosen to serve Her Majesty. She stands as the very foundation of this world’s order—most exalted, most alone, a sovereign in need of a guiding hand. And so, I intend to remain by her side.

Sophien clenched the document in her hand, her grip tightening further.

Rohakan, a royal subject’s duty is to wait in silence. If Her Majesty is my fate, then I shall do nothing but stand in waiting. However...

There were still words left on the page, but it felt unfair to read any further—something her pride as a ruler and the weight of her throne would not allow.

“... Even if you die," Sophien muttered, the corner of her lips curling as she reached into her robes, absentmindedly rummaging through them to pull out a snow globe, letting it rest in her palm. “Keiron.”

In times like this, the only one she could turn to was that taciturn knight—the fool locked inside. Yet, the snow globe’s entrance remained firmly shut, and Keiron showed no sign of emerging.

“... Deculein waits for me as if I were his fate.“

Sophien pressed a hand to her chest, the strange rhythm—rising and falling—still foreign to her, refusing to settle within her. A quiet tremor in her breath was tinged with a heat she could not name.

Life—the promise he once made to Deculein, a future where all who walked this continent would go on living. Yet, no matter how he turned it over in his mind, Rohakan himself was never part of that all.

"... Oh-ho~! Over here~!" Rohakan called out, waving his hands as he noticed the figures in the distance.

"Oh-ho. Quite the preparations you've made~ This was beyond even my sight."

I’m guessing he’ll probably take some time. Well, this is still part of the Northern Region, after all, Rohakan thought.

How foolish—their silence speaks for itself, Rohakan thought.

Snap—!

I surveyed the vineyard, yet even with my Comprehension, the scene defied logic—some sort of lair that Rohakan had created.