A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 208

Chapter 208: Rohakan’s Words (2)

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[Endurance]

◆ Grade

: Rare

◆ Description

: The mental and physical aspects are enhanced, granting the strength to endure.

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The attribute’s description was simple, requiring no further thought. The sensation was faint yet noticeable, and the world itself seemed clearer—at least, that was how it felt to me.

“Are you going in alone?” Primien asked.

I gave a silent nod in response.

“Perhaps it would be better to wait for reinforcements to arrive—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The vineyard had become a magical space in an instant, with the vines and trees pulsing with unnatural life, swaying like living creatures. More than anything, the mana concentration had escalated by over one percent. Given that even the most prestigious mountain barely held 0.1%, what lay beyond was no longer part of the reality I knew.

Clack—

“Oh my, saying there’s no need for us? That’s quite disappointing to hear, brother-in-law~” Josephine said with a graceful smile as she approached, the click of her heels sounding out of place against the earth as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Lord Zeit will arrive soon, so do be patient just a little longer.”

“Even Count Freyden would have no means to handle this,” I said, shaking my head without so much as a glance.

"... My, what a delightful thing to say. I’m sure the Count will be absolutely pleased to hear that~"

Of course, Zeit was a perfect knight, but in matters of magic—and the mental strength this space would test—he could not outmatch me.

"This space cannot be broken by mere force. Without an understanding of magic, one would serve no purpose other than a hindrance."

"Oh my, brother-in-law~ You’re the only one who would ever call our family head a hindrance."

"I alone am enough—no, it is better this way. This is Her Majesty’s decree, entrusted to me alone."

"Hmm... just make sure you come back alive, won’t you?"

Without a word, I moved forward alone. The vineyard had long since become a forest, its looming trees swallowing the sky whole. The haunting landscape was enough to stir fear in any human heart—but I paid it no mind.

One step.

Another.

I walked forward at a steady pace. The branches overhead cast deep shadows, while the wind, thick with mana, brushed along the edges of my robes. The presence of the magical space pressed against my senses, and with every step, mist curled up from the ground. That dense fog soon stretched like a silver veil, flickering with glimpses of memory.

As I walked through the vineyard, the scenes unfolded before me, playing out like echoes of a distant memory.

“... Knight Yulie.”

In the underground of Marik, Deculein had once undertaken a challenge, seeking his father Decalane’s recognition by retrieving the Mana Core he had ordered. With Yulie as his escort, he delved deep into Marik. But there, he was met with an unexpected sudden attack.

"Yes, I’m fine, Professor."

Yulie ran through the dark underground, her body battered and bleeding, yet she bore Deculein on her back, pressing forward.

“There is no need to worry. The exit is near."

Yulie staggered forward, blood spilling from her lips as she carried Deculein, pushing herself beyond her limits and holding desperately to the last threads of her strength.

However...

"... This is on you."

Deculein placed the blame on her, and to that, Yulie replied.

"Yes. I apologize, Professor. It’s all my fault."

Then, Deculein lost consciousness, and time rewound a little further.

Deculein lay upon a cold, barren infirmary bed with Decalane standing over him. It was a memory I had never seen before.

"Tsk. Pathetic."

At his father’s contempt, Deculein quietly closed his eyes.

“I never expected anything from you to begin with... and now Freyden is proving to be causing trouble.”

“... Freyden.”

As Deculein muttered under his breath, another look of disappointment from Decalane bore down on him.

"Yes. Freyden was behind the attack on Marik. I told you from the beginning—they would interfere and become an obstacle."

Deculein remained silent.

"You thought relying on Freyden’s bloodline would solve everything? Hah. That great house of the frontier, already armed with a man like Zeit—do you really think they would welcome a child born at the cost of his mother’s life? Take this."

Decalane tossed something his way without a second glance.

"This is the bracelet Iggyris gave his daughter. It seems that girl gladly accepted it, yet it was that very gift that allowed them to track your whereabouts and launch their attack."

The bracelet Yulie had worn in Marik—the one she had cherished for reasons unknown—was now corroded by demonic energy, its metal rusted and worn. Deculein stared at it in silence.

"That mad hound of Freyden is the real problem. Never mind that he forced an attack on Marik, ready to abandon his own daughter—now, he’s the one cornered, both mentally and circumstantially. It wouldn’t be surprising if he ran straight to the Imperial Palace and laid everything bare."

“... Father.”

As Decalane continued, lost in his own words, Deculein asked him a single question—the one thing his father had never thought to ask his son.

"Are you glad that I survived?"

A heavy silence settled over the infirmary with Decalane looking down at Deculein, and Deculein met his eyes from below. Then, at last... a slow sigh, weighted with disappointment.

"How foolish. You are the first Yukline to collapse in Marik."

Decalane turned away, shaking his head as he left.

At that moment, Deculein made a silent vow, steeling himself—then, unexpectedly, he smiled. Life and death within his own bloodline meant nothing for Decalane. Whether taking a life or losing one, it was simply the way of Decalane, the way of Yukline.

... And just like that, the first memory faded into the mist, and I continued walking the path through the vineyard.

“A timeline, is it?” I muttered.

No, this was not just any timeline—I was walking the timeline of Deculein. The memories tangled beyond the mist, the uninterrupted flow of time unfolding like a film—every fragment was a trace of the road he had walked, drawing me deeper into his fate...

“I will kill your husband, Glitheon!”

Between the looming grapevines, a second memory unraveled, playing another glimpse into the past.

“And that damn daughter you so dearly love! Every last one of them will die by my hand!”

Deculein, his hands tightening around Cielia’s throat—Sylvia’s mother—slowly choking the life out of her.

Drip— Drip, drip—

Like rain pounding from the heavens, every wave of emotion hammered against his heart—and the moment when Cielia took her final breath...

"... So, is this the satisfaction you desired?"

Then, another shadow approached from behind.

“Deculein.”

It was Glitheon. At the sight of Cielia’s lifeless body, his face hardened, and for the briefest moment, a flicker of sorrow in his eyes. But just as quickly, that sliver of humanity faded, swallowed by the cold detachment of a mage.

"Even if you hadn’t done it, she wouldn’t have lived another six months."

Deculein remained silent.

"With this, it is sealed, Deculein."

Glitheon extended a hand to Deculein, but he did not take it. Instead, he brushed back his rain-drenched hair, straightened his disheveled attire, and replied with a question.

"... Glitheon. You must know well that a mage’s contract is sealed in blood."

"I know. I will aid you in killing Decalane. And by oath, this secret will remain buried..."

"... So, it was a clandestine pact," I muttered.

I continued through the vineyard when memories of Deculein—ones I had never known—began seeping into me, stretching back to his earliest years. With mental strength and a compulsion for organization, I categorized them, keeping Deculein’s past and Kim Woo-Jin’s separate, ensuring they did not blur into disorder.

At that moment...

“Knock, knock. Professor. Are you there?”

The voice rang through the vineyard of timelines, carrying a weary emptiness, devoid of any desire to live. I turned to face her—the woman with striking red hair that commanded attention.

“Sophien,” I muttered.

The young Empress, Sophien, lay stretched out on the grass, calling for the professor.

“Professor?”

Yet, the professor who should have answered her call was...

“Yes, Your Highness. I am here.”

Me, or rather, my voice flowed from the mirror resting beside Sophien.

“... I see. But oddly enough, I seem to be lasting longer this time, don’t I?”

Young Sophien murmured, and the memory was one I didn’t recognize. It belonged neither to Deculein nor to me—a fragment from an unknown timeline.

"Professor, how many deaths have I endured?"

"One hundred forty-nine times, Your Highness."

“Hmm... Today is December 31st, which means tomorrow will be January 1st.”

“Yes, Your Highness. If you can endure until tomorrow, you may find yourself fully cured.”

“Hmph. What nonsense.”

I listened in silence, my steps through the vineyard already came to a halt.

"Your Highness."

Suddenly, a voice—my own, yet unfamiliar—sank into a low, hollow timbre. Its resonance carried no heartbeat, no pulse, only the stillness of a heart that had ceased to beat.

“What is it?”

Sophien, tilting her head innocently, asked again.

“I will be watching over Your Highness, no matter where or when.”

“... That’s rather sudden, don’t you think?”

“It isn’t sudden, Your Highness.”

“Even if I’m out of sight for a time... I will always be with you on your journey.”

"Professor, are you saying you plan to leave but have no true intention of doing so?"

The independent quest Demon’s Mirror had come to an abrupt end, and from it, the attribute that became my Origin—Mirror.

"... Your Highness, may I ask one favor of you, as I once upheld my promise to you?"

"From now on... no matter what happens, you must not take your life by your own choice."

What cycle of this world am I in?

"... Oh-ho~! Over here~!"

Then he added, "Time is short, so sit down. Let’s have a chat, shall we? Haha."

"Hup!" Yulie muttered as she suddenly thrust her shoulder forward, pushing her way through.

Boom—!