A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 230

Chapter 230: To Everyday Life (2)

The outer edge of the world was bleak and lifeless. It was not the other side of a mirror, nor the heart of a ripple. It was merely a place beyond the world—a world that no longer existed. No life could exist there. Only a still lake remained, where, now and then, the faint echoes of a wandering spirit would glide across the surface.

— ... Will you allow it to remain as it is, O Lord?

From the depths of the lake, a follower of the Altar raised his voice.

“It is well. There is no need to trouble your heart,” God replied, His eyes steady upon the water, the line of His rod swaying in quiet stillness.

Whether each step moved forward or fell back, all paths would reveal themselves as they were meant to. In the end, the outcome would follow only as God willed. Nothing had ever escaped His foresight, and nothing had been left unseen. This—everything—was merely part of the process.

— Yes, O Lord. Through this trial, the strength for Your descent has surely been regained.

At the sound of the follower’s call, God paused, and for a fleeting moment, remembered someone from long ago. A child’s voice came back to Him—one who had once said that genuinely kind people never call themselves kind. It was such a simple truth.

However, in all the time He had carried the title of God without question, He had overlooked it. The child had claimed that anyone who names themselves God could not be authentically God. Because those who are would never need to say it.

“Indeed, the prophecy shall come to pass.”

Just as the child had said, he was nothing more than a relic of the Holy Era—one among innumerable followers who once bowed before a true God.

— Yes, O Lord. The faith of the Altar remains ever unshaken before You.

But in this age, there was no God. The One who had once listened to the voices of His followers, who had watched over their lives and mourned their deaths—that God was no more.

“I have seen your faith.”

God was dead. It was the followers who had killed Him, and the memory of that final tragedy remained vivid in His mind. The weight of that betrayal—grief knotted with fury—stuck to His heart like dried blood that refused to wash away.

“Commit yourselves to the doctrine, and let your hearts be rooted in the Word,” continued God.

Therefore, this continent was a remote land built by heretics and god-slayers—marked from the very beginning as a symbol of original sin.

— Yes, O Lord. I shall now take my leave.

The follower’s voice faded, and silence settled like mist. Once a servant of God, he turned back to the lake. Reflected upon its surface was the image of the Imperial Palace—the beating heart of the continent.

“...The faith of the beginning still rests within me,” He muttered, reaching through the ashes smoldering in his chest. “It is time to breathe it forth once more, and let devotion rise again.”

But the fallen god would not return, and there was no one left to carry out His teachings, to preserve them, or to stand in His place. And so, he became what no one else could—he became God.

“The Mortal Realm shall once more be steeped in divinity. I shall carry forth Your will and bear it in full...”

The vow of a faithful shepherd spread outward, echoing like ripples across still water.

***

Meanwhile, within the round table chamber of the Imperial Knights’ Order...

“Of late, dungeons filled with demonic energy have been appearing with growing frequency.”

Within the round table chamber of the Imperial Palace, the hall buzzed with voices, as knights gathered in the middle of discussions. It was the season when universities reopened their gates, and not only scholars but the Knights’ Order and the Mage Tower alike found themselves busy—setting goals and duties for the turning of the quarter.

“Therefore, the Imperial Knights’ Order will advance with three primary directives this quarter,” said Gawain.

The one leading today’s session of the Imperial Knights’ Order was Gawain—renowned not only for his exceptional skill but also for his outstanding appearance, which often placed him before the public eye as the face of the Order, a familiar figure in lectures, broadcasts, and the press. Favored most by Deputy Knight Isaac, he now guided the meeting with practiced command.

“First, the clearing of dungeons,” Gawain continued, gesturing his hand through the air.

Soon, the map of the Empire hovered, its surface shimmering with light. Among its many marks, one point began to shine brighter than the rest.

"Across the borders of the Empire—particularly in the slums—twenty-three locations have been confirmed, with an additional five estimated within the interior. Our foremost objective is to eliminate all active dungeons before the end of the quarter."

There was no opposition. Eliminating dungeons was one of the Knights' Order’s most fundamental duties, and the rewards that followed were far from meager.

“Second, the establishment of advanced communications beyond the capital.”

Snap—

With a snap of his fingers, Gawain moved the map, and its glowing image swept toward a new region.

“Our first priority is Rekordak—a territory of strategic value, with 51% held by House Yukline. It stands as a fitting base for the coming expedition into the Land of Destruction. Therefore—”

“Expedition into the Land of Destruction?”

It was the objection he had expected, so Gawain turned toward the voice.

“The Empire would actually commit to an expedition into the Land of Destruction? For what purpose—wasting strength on such a forgotten waste?” asked Valerian, a member of one of the many factions within the Knights' Order.

Valerian, who placed the safety of the Empire’s people and the honor of the Knights’ Order above all else, held little favor for the expedition into the Land of Destruction.

“The expedition into the Land of Destruction has yet to be confirmed. Even if the campaign is abandoned, the establishment of advanced communication remains essential,” Gawain said.

“Hmph. But why Rekordak, of all places? Deya—was she not a corrupted knight? Disgraced and banished from the Imperial Knights’ Order, and yet you would place this responsibility in her hands?”

Then, with a hardened expression, Gawain shook his head and replied, “Knight Deya’s skill is well established—her reputation speaks for itself. Furthermore—”

“Skill, you say? I’ve seen that woman spar—she flitted about like a gnat.”

I suspect Valerian’s bitterness comes from bruised pride—one of his subordinates must have lost to Yulie in a spar. After all, he is the proud founder of the so-called Valerian School, known for raising hundreds under his banner, Gawain thought.

However, Gawain chose not to speak on it.

“Yes... but Rekordak remains—”

“Rekordak belongs more properly to House Yukline than to Knight Deya,” interrupted Delic, who had remained silent, twirling his mustache, as his eyes scanned the round table.

Then Delic added, “House Yukline holds fifty-one percent of its claim. That makes Rekordak a critical stronghold. Clearly, that alone justifies its place as a candidate for direct advanced communication with the capital—perhaps even a hotline to Her Majesty the Empress. Wouldn’t you agree?”

No one stepped forward to challenge Delic’s words—not even the stubborn Valerian, who merely pressed his lips together and said nothing. The Imperial Knights’ Order prided itself on merit above all, but even in such circles, influence could never be entirely ignored.

“Then next, Hacecaine would be the most fitting candidate.”

By one turn of fortune or another, Delic had come under the protection of House Yukline and now stood as the true power within the Imperial Knights’ Order.

“I would first propose establishing a direct hotline with both Hadecaine and Rekordak,” Delic concluded.

Delic had long been listed among the candidates for deputy knight, but no one within the Knights’ Order had ever really considered him a serious contender as his presence had always been unremarkable—neither dismissed nor expected.

However, now within both the Imperial Palace and the Order, his voice carried weight equal to Isaac’s, if not more. Aware of his rising influence, Delic had begun to involve himself more openly in the Order’s internal politics.

“... Yes, Knight Delic. Let’s put this matter on hold for now. The third and final directive concerns the assimilation of the Voice,” Gawain said.

The assimilation of the Voice had become a growing affliction, eating away at the minds of the people. It was the very reason whispered conversations and quiet rumors had all but disappeared across the continent.

“This has been officially recognized by House Yukline as a demonic phenomenon tied to the assimilation of the Voice. For this matter, we are planning to request it from him, Deculein of the Yukline family—”

“Ahem,” Delic interrupted.

Gawain turned to him, a quiet question in his eyes.

“Is Professor Deculein a personal friend of yours?”

Gawain remained silent.

“This is not the time to speak thoughtlessly, especially with the Voice hiding in every shadow. Have you forgotten the basics of etiquette? Choose your words more carefully,” Delic added, leaning back in his chair with confidence.

Delic’s subordinate knights nodded, their expressions reflecting the pride of their commander.

“... Yes, Knight Delic. The request will be sent to Professor Deculein of House Yukline,” Gawain continued. “House Yukline is, after all, a house of long tradition—renowned for their expertise in demon hunting.”

“Good. Let me handle the third directive—no need for concern,” Delic said, as if granting a favor, and stood up with a knock of his hand against the round table, clearing his throat. “Well then, I have pressing matters to attend to. The rest of you may continue the meeting."

Just two months ago, Delic and his subordinate knights had been a minor faction of barely ten. Now, they had grown to thirty, and together, they departed the round table chamber in a single procession. The remaining knights watched them in silence, their words momentarily forgotten.

"... Perhaps I should’ve gone to the Rekordak front myself,” muttered one of the knights remaining.

Soon after Delic's departure, quiet murmurs spread through the round table chamber—less discussion than suppressed complaint, lingering like a collective sigh. It was all driven by the rumor that Delic had established a bond with Deculein during his time in Rekordak, and through it, secured the title of escort knight to Her Majesty the Empress.

“Tch...” murmured Isaac, Deputy Knight of the Imperial Knights’ Order, pressing his fingers to his temple.

For the Deputy Knight, nothing proved more troubling than knights who pledged their swords not to the order, but to the banners of noble houses.

"Gawain," Isaac said. "Just continue the meeting."

“Yes, Deputy Knight Isaac. And while still in its prototype stage, this device enables direct communication with Rekordak,” Gawain continued, placing the crystal orb radio on the round table.

Crackle— Crackle—

As the dial settled on a certain frequency, a clear voice came through the crystal orb.

— This is Knight Deya of Rekordak. Do you hear me...?

***

On the 77th floor of the Mage Tower, the Head Professor’s office...

“Naturally. No need to ask. The fate of eliminating the Voice has always belonged to Yukline,” I said, nodding once.

"Yes, I appreciate it, Professor. And this—this is the Imperial Palace’s hotline. A specially crafted radio transceiver, or perhaps a secure transmitter. Either way, it serves its purpose," Delic replied with a smile, setting the device down on the desk.

“Is that so?”

“Her Majesty the Empress instructed that it be delivered to you personally. With this device, you may reach Her Majesty at any time. By adjusting the frequency here...”

Crackle— Crackle—

— Yes, sir. At present, Rekordak stands strong. It continues to serve its purpose as a stronghold, and the villages across the Northern Region are gradually growing in strength and order.

... Whoooosh.

“Hmm.”

— Professor.

— ... Indeed. Today, I will be announcing the decree regarding the expedition into the Land of Destruction and the Scarletborn.

— We cannot let the Altar bastards walk free after what they’ve done. You want that as much as I do, do you not?

— ... Hmm? What’s that tone? I expected you’d be pleased. You loathe the Scarletborn too, do you not?

... Bang!

Sophien, Her Majesty—so often lethargic and mischievous—yet when it comes to the Scarletborn, her judgment cuts through the air like a sharpened arrow, Ahan thought.

“... Yes, Your Majesty. I won’t breathe a word to anyone. N-No, forgive me... it was foolish of me to even wonder,” Ahan replied, bowing her head. _{freewēbnoveℓ.com}