A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 250: Loss (4)

On the dark island, inside a guild room touched by something colder than the night, Idnik sat with Jukaken and Arlos, the three of them engaged in discussion.

"First things first—our priority now is to capture Gerek. I don’t know what sick game he’s playing, but if he continues to kill Deculein, the magic circle won’t be completed, and it will also affect Sylvia’s mind," Idnik said.

Idnik kept her speculation to herself, withholding it from Jukaken and Arlos as it remained uncertain, and if Deculein’s method was the only way to save the continent, then, as a desert mage, Idnik was prepared to accept the sacrifice of the few for the greater good.

"Okay, and what about the Scarecrow?" Jukaken asked.

"I’ll need to build another. The Scarecrow that was escorting Deculein’s been already broken—Gerek must’ve done it..." Arlos replied.

Creeeeeak—

At that moment, as the door of the guild room creaked open with an eerie sound, Arlos, Jukaken, and Idnik instinctively turned, a shudder running through them and the backs of their necks stiffening.

“Umm...”

The eighth iteration of Deculein stood just beyond the threshold, watching them from within the darkness.

While the guild room remained heavy with silence, Deculein quietly walked in, sat at the desk and chair as if nothing was amiss, and began reading through his magic theory.

"I get that he may be revived on his own... but who led him all the way here?" Jukaken muttered, staring at Deculein.

“... Nobody.”

"Then how did he get here?"

“I don’t know.”

Jukaken and Arlos whispered in shock, their eyes flickering in disbelief, and the tense atmosphere stretched tighter with each passing second until, irritated by it all, Deculein finally turned to face them.

"You all look like you've seen a ghost," Deculein said, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"Well, yeah, of course. Because... Gerek killed you."

“Gerek did?” Deculein inquired.

"Yes, Deculein. Gerek is after you. You’re in danger right now. Stay in the guild room for the time being," Arlos replied.

However, Deculein shook his head, and Idnik, saying nothing, continued watching him closely.

"What? I said Gerek is after you," Arlos said, furrowing her brow.

"Three o'clock in the afternoon," Deculein replied, holding up a paper in his hands.

Idnik’s eyes fell on the hiring contract that Deculein had raised, where the names of both Deculein and Sylvia were signed.

"I have a contract to uphold."

Then, Idnik bit down hard as Arlos let out a long sigh and shook her head.

"Well, alright. Do whatever you want. You’ll just come back to life anyway," Jukaken said.

***

“... You’ll just come back to life anyway.”

Perhaps it was Jukaken’s damnable optimism that had led to this situation, and Arlos still found herself wondering from time to time. But she knew, of course, that a single thoughtless word could not have caused it all—though maybe she just needed someone to blame.

Thud—!

Arlos placed a bundle of papers onto the guild room's desk, each sheet marked with an 'X' at every tracking location where Deculein had reportedly died from. Building on that, Arlos spent countless hours trying to track Gerek’s location, his routes, and his every movement, but no matter how hard she searched, the answers refused to reveal themselves.

“Hoo...”

A sigh slipped from Arlos, her breath blooming white in the freezing air, swirling away like a puff of smoke, as winter gripped the Island of the Voice, and the snow that fell each night had already blanketed the land for a full year. The island’s frozen landscape had become a reflection of Sylvia’s image—and, as Idnik had said, it was a dangerously unstable state.

“... Gerek, where the heck are you,” Arlos muttered.

Even after death, Deculein came back to life without ever needing Sylvia’s help, and whenever he ran out of life, his mental strength would draw him back into existence somewhere on the island.

Though Deculein could rise without end, it was meaningless if every time he returned, Gerek killed him again. No matter how many times he revived, it was as if his immortality itself had become nothing but another form of dying.

Arlos stared at the box containing Deculein’s magic theory in silence, untouched for two long years. From time to time, unable to bear the sight of it so abandoned and filled with pity, she would wipe it clean and brush the gathering dust off the box.

"It has already been three years and three months." freewebnøvel.coɱ

Since the days of Jukaken’s misplaced optimism that Deculein would always return from death, three years and three months had slipped by.

In all that time, his tutoring sessions with Sylvia had lasted no more than three months, and the long three years that followed saw Deculein caught in a cycle of death, never once reaching the guild room or touching the threshold of Sylvia’s home—only to be killed by Gerek, again and again.

"... All that tough talk, and you just keep dying," Arlos muttered, holding a crumpled sketch that Deculein had drawn of her long ago.

“Ahem.”

Looking at the sketch of her portrait that Deculein had painted, Arlos couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of longing for him, and sometimes, she even found herself recalling the Professor’s nauseating compliments about her.

That I was mysterious, beautiful, even artistic or something... Arlos thought.

Creeeak—

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Arlos quickly slipped the sketch of her out of sight.

"Hey, Arlos," Jukaken said, not even shaking the snow from his coat. "Idnik says she needs you to come. She says she has something to say."

“... Where?” Arlos replied.

Ever since Gerek had destroyed the puppet scarecrow three years ago, Arlos had avoided leaving the guild room even more, and now there was barely a coin left to buy food and no materials to build another.

"Where Sylvia is. Idnik said to come to the central lighthouse."

A faint crease formed between Arlos's brows.

"Says it's something important, apparently," Jukaken added, shrugging, his expression and face much the same.

***

"... It’s a fairy tale in Etynel," Sylvia had said.

Long ago, on a day blurred by time, Sylvia had shown Deculein a fairy tale she had written herself—in Etynel, the fairy language he had taught her—and made for him alone.

"... A fairy tale," Deculein repeated under his breath.

“... Yes, Professor.”

Reading the fairy tale Sylvia had written, following the proper Etynel grammatical structure, Deculein, her tutor, nodded, and his eyes glided over the sentences as if savoring each word one by one.

"... What do you think?" Sylvia had asked, unable to wait any longer for his review.

"... I haven’t finished reading it yet," Deculein had replied, a faint smile on his lips.

“... Oh. Yes, Professor.”

Nervously fidgeting with her fingers, Sylvia waited for Deculein’s reaction to the fairy tale she had written for him, the tension tightening within her with each passing second, her eyes pinned to his lips as if waiting for his breath to turn into words.

After what felt like an eternity...

"... It is well written."

Deculein’s compliment broke the silence, and in its warmth, Sylvia’s face brightened into a blossoming smile. And...

“... Ah,” Sylvia murmured, opening her eyes.

Today, Sylvia dreamed once more of a bittersweet memory from the past that ached in the depths of her heart. Sylvia pushed herself up from the bed, her long hair tumbling down, so near her waist that it seemed to brush against it.

Then, glancing at the calendar, Sylvia saw it was now the eighth year of the Voice Year. So much time had passed since her first meeting with Deculein—no, so much time had passed without him.

Knock, knock—

At that moment, a knock came at the door, and Sylvia turned slowly toward it just as the door began to open.

“... Sylvia,” Idnik called.

"Idnik, why are you here," Sylvia said through clenched teeth, her face hardening like a blade.

"Cielia called for me, she’s worried about you. This island too—it’s been nothing but winter for a year, Sylvia," Idnik replied.

Sylvia said nothing in response, nor did she raise her eyes to meet Idnik’s.

However, Sylvia broke her silence with the question that mattered to her, and asked, “Did you find Gerek.”

Sylvia had long known that Gerek was killing Deculein, and she had already chased him with her spell, Wind, even bringing a ghost to find him. But Gerek’s extrasensory perception completely outmatched the Wind spell Sylvia had cast.

"No, we couldn’t find him," Idnik replied, shaking her head.

“Then why are you here.”

Sylvia blamed Idnik for failing to stop Gerek before it was too late, and she began to blame the Voice itself for allowing it all to happen.

"... Sylvia," Idnik said, her voice taking on a heavy tone.

"Get out," Sylvia said, shaking her head as if refusing even to listen.

“Deculein, you see.”

“Get out.”

“Deculein isn’t someone you should miss this much,” Idnik said.

“I said get out!”

Driven by blame and frustration, Sylvia tried to push Idnik back, refusing to listen, but Idnik gripped her hands firmly and forced the paper with a spell into her hands, giving her no room to refuse, without hesitation.

"Look, this is the magic circle Deculein formed over the island."

Over three long years of watching Sylvia break and wither, Idnik came to understand the method Deculein had devised to kill her—a method understandable to a mage, but no human being could ever forgive.

"You two made a wager that whoever completes their magic first must step away without looking back, didn't you?"

If nothing changed, Sylvia would die. Each night bled more life from her, leaving her frail and hollow, withering into nothingness—and no magic, no sword, no violence was needed to kill her.

"Look with your own eyes. This magic circle."

Deculein had placed the emotion called love within Sylvia’s heart, and it was that love, more certain than any blade or spell, that would kill her.

"From the beginning, Deculein's only purpose was to kill you."

And from Sylvia’s dead body, the unleashed mana would ignite Deculein’s magic circle.

"This is Deculein's magic circle, the one I studied. Open your eyes and face it."

It had taken Idnik three full years to understand Deculein’s theory, and when Sylvia glanced at it briefly, she shook her head numbly, without a word.

"This magic circle will be activated upon your death, drowning the entire island. Deculein intends to gather every last thread of the Voice and erase them completely, without regard for the villagers or the people still living here," Idnik said.

“... No.”

"No—it’s not like that! Listen to me, Sylvia. Gerek is the one trying to stop Deculein because he knows what it means to lose an entire village to the flood."

Once, an entire village had been drowned by Yukline’s hand, and refusing to let such a tragedy repeat itself, Gerek slaughtered Deculein again and again—so that even if Sylvia had to die, the magic circle would never reach completion.

Though Sylvia’s face showed little, her eyes swept across Deculein’s magic circle, and her tightly sealed lips trembled ever so slightly.

"Deculein is Yukline, Sylvia. And Yukline never compromises with demons," Idnik said, releasing the tight grip she had been holding on Sylvia’s wrist.

Sylvia is clever enough to understand the purpose of this magic circle and the conditions it demands, Idnik thought.

“... Hey, Idnik.”

At that moment, a second voice called for Idnik, and she turned to see Arlos and Jukaken standing outside Sylvia’s door, watching her and Sylvia.

"Is that really true?" Jukaken asked, his expression a mask of stone.

"Yes, it is true," Idnik replied, meeting Arlos's and Jukaken's eyes with a nod.

***

Crunch, crunch— Crunch, crunch—

... Three months passed, and hearing footsteps from outside the guild room, Arlos looked toward the door from where she sat studying at the desk—and a moment later, the door opened.

"Jukaken. You’re here," Arlos said.

“Yeah,” Jukaken replied.

After another day spent tracking Gerek, Jukaken hung his coat on the rack and rushed straight to the fireplace.

"Gerek—have you found him?" Arlos asked.

"Couldn't find him. There's nothing but snow, you know. And you're still holding onto that theory?"

"Yeah," Arlos said, adjusting the glasses on her nose. "I'm making sure whether Idnik's words are true."

In the guild room, Arlos dedicated herself to studying the magic theory Deculein had left behind. Although her theoretical ability fell short compared to Idnik’s, even slow progress was better than doing nothing.

"What could you possibly know from studying it? You’re just a puppeteer."

"I'm not squid-headed like you. I'm not just a puppeteer—I'm the best in the field."

"Hmph," Jukaken scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. "But Arlos, even if what she said is really true, wouldn't that be the best method? Isn't it better that we die here than let the Voice consume the whole continent?"

At Jukaken’s words, Arlos turned toward him, her eyes widening in shock at something she had not expected to hear from him.

What’s with him all of a sudden? Arlos thought.

"Are you really Jukaken of the Six Serpents?"

“I am.”

"You’re the last person I’d expect to say something like that," Arlos said.

"... What the hell. Didn't I say it before? I trust in myself," Jukaken said, pulling a sweet potato from the fireplace.

I was saving that for myself, this motherfucker, Arlos said, licking her lips.

"I think it’s better to die an unsung hero who saved the continent than live forgotten within the Voice after losing myself. I'm sure the Professor will at least do that for us."

"... Leave thoughts of dying for another time. More importantly, where were the Professor’s traces found today?" Arlos said, spreading out a map and handing over a pen.

"Right here," Jukaken said, pointing at the map with his finger.

“Hmm. Looks like he died somewhere strange again...?”

Sizzzzzle—!

... At that moment, a sudden flash of thought struck Arlos like a spark catching dry tinder, burning brightly in her mind.

Fluff, fluff...

From outside the guild room, snow fell in a silent blanket, layering the roof with a sound almost too soft to hear.

Whoooosh...

Through the wall’s narrow cracks, a chilling gust of air crept into the guild room, where Arlos, as silent as stone, shared the space with Jukaken, who busied himself eating his sweet potatoes.

"You want a bite?" Jukaken asked, stuffing the sweet potato into Arlos’s mouth.

Deep in thought, Arlos chewed the sweet potato Jukaken had placed in her mouth, allowing her mind to continue processing.

“... It’s different.”

At last, a single word slipped from Arlos's lips as she spread the map across Deculein's magic circle, aligning it with the tracking locations marked by each point of his death.

“It’s very different...”

Then, Arlos compared the two positions, her eyes tracing the points where the map and magic circle overlapped.

Here, between the overlapped locations, Arlos sensed something—something Idnik had overlooked, or perhaps something she had never been able to see.

"... I mean~ There’s no way you'd understand it just by studying it," Jukaken said, tossing out a clumsy jab.

Ignoring Jukaken’s words, Arlos leaned in with a concentration deeper than she had ever given to creating a puppet, throwing her mind against the link between the magic circle and Deculein’s death, thinking until the strain nearly split her mind apart.

And as a result...

"... Jukaken, I think I understand," Arlos said.

"Pfft, bullshit," Jukaken said with a mouthful of sweet potato.

Then, noticing the rare weight of seriousness on Arlos’s face, Jukaken cleared his throat and asked, the teasing from before slipping away.

“Ahem. W-What did you understand?”

Arlos knew, and now she was certain that she knew.

"The location where Deculein will die next, and where Deculein is right now," Arlos said, gathering the map and magic circle into her arms before pushing herself to her feet.

Bang—!

Without hesitation, Arlos threw open the door and rushed outside.