A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 84: Tempest (2)

Under the scorching sun of the Kahal Desert, a people endure with only camels and tents for survival. Once natives of the eastern continent, they have become an unfortunate clan, exiled by competing interests. These are the Scarletborn, living symbols of discrimination and suppression.

Whoosh...

In the darkness, while the sandstorm pounded the tents, their leader was burdened with worries about the future of his people.

“This is dire news, Grand Elder. They have finally taken action...”

Grand Elder Jubekren watched the dark whirlwind raging over the desert. Hatred is like that storm—a relentless, swirling force that never ends. Resentment breeds resentment, and hatred only fuels more hatred.

This cycle can only be broken through complete annihilation or through harmony and reconciliation. In an age where the latter has become nothing more than an illusion, Grand Elder Jubekren turned his attention to the Altar, a group whose beliefs seemed to mirror those of the Scarletborn.

“There are widespread rumors that Professor Deculein intends to establish a concentration camp in Roharlak.”

Frustrated by Jubekren’s inaction, the radical faction of the Scarletborn aligned with the Altar, a group whose beliefs appeared to mirror their own. This alliance ultimately drove them to commit a terrible act.

“And the clan will be eventually dragged to that place,” the member in the tent said.

Jubekren nodded. Deculein, the heir of Yukline. His defense of the Scarletborn in Berhert had caused some confusion, but they had been grateful nonetheless.

“Yes. The new head of Yukline bought us time in Berhert, but this terror attack was carried out by our clan. He will undoubtedly view it as a betrayal...” Jubekren stated.

Jubekren thought of Decalane, the former head of Yukline and Deculein’s father. A hunter devoid of mercy, he was a man too hardened to understand love. He embodied the spirit of Yukline more than anyone in the family, yet he was never bound by its constraints. For this, Jubekren had feared him.

“The cost of betraying Yukline has always been severe,” Jubekren declared.

“... Yes, we are well aware of it. Fear the demon.”

Fear the demon—the creed of Yukline.

It was a phrase that emphasized both the need for vigilance against demons with the strength and tradition of the Yukline family. After centuries of hunting demons, the Yuklines had, in some ways, come to resemble them. The demon they warned of was not only the demons themselves but also the Yuklines, who had the potential to become demons to their enemies.

“The tempest is approaching. Our words will be dismissed as mere excuses, and achieving peaceful unity will become even more difficult.”

The Scarletborn were a scattered people, spreading like water seeping into cracks. Among them, some had formed sizable militias.

“It will be impossible to control all the hot-headed youth of the clan, and if we attempt to suppress them, others will rebel and act out, just as they have now.”

“... Yes, Great Elder.”

“Let us entrust this to the Cradle of the Tree. I trust that Elesol and Karixel will guide them well,” Jubekren stated, before turning his gaze to the distant whirlwind.

The gusts swelled, drawing in the desert’s sand and mana. Beyond the storm, he glimpsed the faces of long-lost friends. The howling wind carried their screams, and the sand felt like droplets of their blood. It was as if they were calling out to him.

“I have been short-sighted... Yet what can be done? In a world like this, there is no answer,” Grand Elder Jubekren declared, his voice heavy with resignation as he sank into despair.

The tent was soon buried under the desert’s sandstorm.

***

Three days later, in Hadecaine, in the heart of Yukline County.

“What do you mean, a concentration camp in our territory?!” Yeriel shouted at the family head, who had returned after a long absence. “This is absurd!”

Deculein kept silent.

“Answer me! Right noooow!”

Deculein remained silent as he took the lord’s chair, the seat Yeriel usually occupied.

“Of course I hate the Scarletborn too, but a concentration camp? That’s a detestable facilityyyy!” Yeriel’s voice rose, growing louder with each word.

“Stop dragging your words,” Deculein ordered, his tone firm as he waited for Yeriel’s outburst to subside.

After venting her frustrations for a while, Yeriel let out a long, weary sigh.

Only then did Deculein speak with a firm, controlled tone, “The camp will be far from the civilian population.”

“Where exactly are you planning to build it, it, it?” Yeriel asked.

“... Are you trying to annoy me?” Deculein asked coldly.

“What, what, what?”

“Let me ask you once more.”

“No, I’m not,” Yeriel replied with a scoff.

Deculein shook his head before responding, “The camp will be established in Roharlak.”

“... Are you serious?” Yeriel asked, her expression hardening.

Yukline County was vast, comparable in size to the entire Principality of Yuren, but only half of it was usable land. The rest, including the cursed region of Marik and parts of the Land of Destruction, fell under the county's jurisdiction.

It would be more accurate to say the county oversaw this territory rather than owned it—a land burdened with the responsibility of keeping the rampaging demonic beasts from spilling into civilian areas.

“Even if they’re Scarletborn, they’re still human,” Yeriel said.

Among them, Roharlak was the worst, lying close to the Land of Destruction. It was as dreadful as Rekordak, the infamous prison in the far north of Freyden County.

“That’s no place for people—”

“It’s not up for debate, Yeriel,” Deculein stated coldly, his gaze slicing through her like a blade.

Yeriel flinched and stepped back. Though she had long since broken free from Deculein’s influence, moments like this still filled her with fear.

“... Fine. Let’s say the Scarletborn are taken care of. What do we gain? Nothing but the stigma of being the land with a concentration camp!”

“The specific benefits will be communicated to you by the Imperial Palace soon,” Deculein said, rising from his seat and heading toward the door.

Yeriel hurried back to her seat, taking back the chair she had just been forced to leave.

“I’m leaving. The necessary materials for the foundation will be taken from the land,” Deculein declared.

“... Do whatever as you wish,” Yeriel muttered.

This was yet another decision made without her input, one she couldn’t change no matter how much she resisted. Yeriel shot a glare at Deculein’s back as he opened the door of the lord’s office.

Creak—

Beyond the door, his entourage of Imperial knights and officials stood ready, their faces alight with eager smiles. Their enthusiasm for the Scarletborn’s suppression was evident.

“As expected of Professor Deculein—no, I should address you as Count Yukline in this setting.”

“With the Count who subdued Rohakan and swiftly quelled the Imperial Terror, we could conquer the very stars—”

Creak—

As the door closed, the flurry of flattery abruptly ended, leaving Yeriel alone in the silent office.

“Roharlak...” Yeriel murmured, exhaling a long sigh. “Roharlak...”

Yeriel had never considered confining people in Roharlak, but she understood Deculein’s reasoning. The benefits were clear. The Imperial family would provide significant support, and the concentration camp could serve as a human barrier, much like Rekordak, to keep the monsters from the Land of Destruction at bay.

The Scarletborn would be forced to fight for their survival, and even if they were annihilated, it wouldn’t be a loss. It was a cold, calculated plan—so characteristic of Deculein.

“Just when I thought he was becoming less ruthless...” Yeriel muttered, pressing her fingers to her temples. Lately, Deculein had become increasingly unreadable. “... Then again, what does it even mean to be humane? After all, it was those fuckers who committed the terrorist attacks.”

As Yeriel mumbled to herself, the door to the lord’s office swung open, and the butler stepped inside.

“The week’s income from the underground passage in Marik has been tallied.”

“Okay, let me see,” Yeriel replied.

Yeriel’s eyes widened as she flipped through the ledger. Hundreds of thousands of elne—money was streaming in.

“How is this possible? Our weekly income has far surpassed expectations! I thought it would take longer for word to spread?!”

“Yes. Many more adventurers have flocked to the passage than we anticipated. Consequently, sales in the underground market have also increased...”

Although prices were 30% higher than in most cities, adventurers prioritized convenience over cost and paid willingly for everything, from food and tools to gear and magical items.

"Th-this is great, really great. But we must stay calm and make sure this cash flow doesn’t stop. We need to keep it steady. Understood?!"

“Yes, of course.”

To Yeriel, the Scarletborn meant nothing. Her sole focus was her territory. The Empire, the Imperial family, even the Empress—none of them mattered. From childhood to adulthood, the only thing she had ever truly possessed was this land.

“Now you can go,” Yeriel said.

“Yes, Lord Yeriel.”

Once the butler left, Yeriel pressed her hands to her cheeks, a delighted giggle escaping her lips. She looked again at the ledger, which showed profits ten times greater than she had expected. The sheer joy threatened to overwhelm her.

“Hooray! Yay! Yes!” Yeriel screamed, laughing and her excitement bubbling over as she swiftly started up the turntable.

??~ ???~ ??? ?~

Classical music filled the room as Yeriel, now alone, moved through a waltz with a touch of clumsiness.

***

The relentless heat and blinding sun bore down on a barren wasteland, a desert in all but name, where not a single blade of grass could survive—this was Roharlak. The landscape, far from just desolate, was utterly devastated, like something torn straight from a game.

"Professor," Yulie said, tugging at my sleeve as she stood beside me.

I shifted my gaze toward her.

Hesitating, her voice unsteady, she said, "The ground... it seems too unstable for building a concentration camp, wouldn’t you agree?"

Yulie’s cautious tone revealed the deep-seated animosity her family, Freyden, harbored toward the Scarletborn and the Altar. Zeit had probably given her specific instructions as well. That’s why she approached the subject so timidly, hinting indirectly that Roharlak might be too severe a choice.

"It’s fine. Containment is better than extermination," I replied.

I planned to build the largest concentration camp possible here in Roharlak. In time, the camps constructed by other mage families would turn into sites of brutal massacres. My objective was to make sure that as many Scarletborn as possible could survive here.

"But... I’m not certain. Can anyone... truly survive in a place like this...?"

Relying on the vision provided by my Wealthy Magnate attribute, I quickly located the water sources around Roharlak. The camp would be established near these underground reservoirs.

"Yulie."

"... Yes?"

"Trust me. What you fear won’t come to pass," I said with a reassuring smile.

After a moment, she nodded.

"Professor, the raw materials are prepared!" someone called out from nearby.

Whooooosh—!

Several carts piled high with steel and iron beams awaited. I employed Telekinesis to lift them all. My task today was to erect the steel walls marking the camp's perimeter. Construction moved quickly, with Telekinesis and Ductility working together—two spells exceptionally well-suited for the task.

At that moment...

"Ah!"

A soft whimper cut through everything else, hitting me harder than any noise could. I turned around at once.

"Oh, it’s nothing. I must have stepped on a cactus," Yulie said with a strained smile.

I silently observed the sweat dripping down her chin, uncertain whether it was due to the heat or the pain.

Yulie awoke in the middle of the night at Yukline Castle, gripping her chest as if her heart were being torn apart.

"Huff... huff..."

The sharp pain left her chest tight and her body tense, a suffocating pressure that slowly subsided as she managed to breathe again. Still unsettled, she stepped out into the hallway.

"Sigh..."

Yulie wandered through the grand corridors of Yukline Castle, her steps unsteady.

"Yulie."

The unexpected voice sent a chill down her spine. Startled by the thought of a ghost, she turned and saw Deculein standing in the dimly lit corridor.

Deculein looked at Yulie and asked, "Is your condition stable now?"

"Yes, I’m fine," Yulie replied with a smile that had gradually become more genuine over time.

Deculein approached her in silence, a quiet sadness etched in his expression.

Yulie, with an overly bright tone, asked, "So, when does the Imperial mission start~?"

"... What?"

"Oh... Ahem. My throat's a bit dry," Yulie said, clearing her throat before continuing in a more composed tone. "I've heard everything. It's fine. I understand. I've learned to be more adaptable."

Yulie placed a hand over her chest, smiling with a sense of pride.

Deculein nodded and replied, "It begins next week."

"Understood. Ensure there is no failure; otherwise, I will be very angry," Yulie replied.

Deculein watched her smile quietly, his thoughts returning to a long-held concern.

"... Yulie."

"Yes?"

If revealing his change had, in truth, been a curse for Yulie, it would mean Deculein was never meant to stay by her side. The Villain’s Fate seemed determined to strip him of any chance at redemption, ensuring he would never become a better person.

"Yulie."

"Yes? Why did you call me twice?"

Deculein removed his gloves and gently smoothed her disheveled hair. Yulie flinched initially but soon relaxed, allowing him to continue. The light from the full moon streamed through the window, highlighting his features. His sapphire eyes glimmered with a sorrow that seemed to rise and fall like the tide.

"I am aware that your injury was my fault," I said.

"... Why mention that now? That's not the case at all. Besides, I’ve already received more than enough compensation," Yulie replied.

Deculein shook his head, recalling the moment in Marik when Kim Woo-Jin had discovered his diary.

“No. What you received was far from sufficient.”

Yulie, the knight who had stood by Deculein even in the direst of circumstances, was left with a wound that would never heal. The only compensation offered was the cancellation of Freyden's thirty-million-elne debt to Yukline. Yulie received neither a single coin nor a word of appreciation.

At that time, Deculein was a man who preferred to place the blame for the failed mission on her rather than face his own fear of his father’s reprimand. Yulie had understood this all too well.

"So... no matter what, I will make it right," Deculein said, his hand pausing as it moved from her hair to rest on her shoulder—too uncertain, too afraid to offer her any genuine comfort.

Yulie stared at him, momentarily frozen. If this had been the old Deculein, she would have been consumed by fear. But now, for reasons she couldn’t fully grasp, she felt an unexpected sense of calm.

"... No," Yulie said, shaking her head with a soft smile. Her tone was composed and resolute. Though her heart ached slightly, it also brimmed with a warm reassurance. "I can overcome this on my own."

Her smile brushed over Deculein like a soft ray of moonlight.

"So please, let me handle the matter.”

Then, she gave his ear a quick flick with her finger.

Snap—! Snap—!

Deculein's expression shifted, becoming difficult to read.

Yulie chuckled and said, "Your expression is far too serious. You should smile more. Your usual stern demeanor frightens the students—"

Just then...

“Meow—!”

A piercing cry suddenly filled the hall.

"Eek!" Yulie yelped, darting into Deculein's arms.

Thud!

Yulie nearly body-slammed into him, but Deculein’s firm stance took the impact without faltering. Intrigued by the solid feel of his chest, she lightly tapped it with her fingers before raising her gaze to meet his, her eyes slightly dazed. Deculein shook his head with a hint of restrained frustration.

"Have you been reading fairy tales? That startled act of yours is far too clichéd. Is this why you held me back earlier?" Deculein said.

"N-no, no! Absolutely not! I-I wasn’t pretending to be scared! A-and besides, you’re the one who called me over in the first place! S-so, um... it’s just... over there!" Yulie stammered, pointing frantically. "That cat... it suddenly..."

“Meow—!” cried the coal-black cat as it approached them.

"Is it a cat you recognize?" Yulie asked.

"Unlikely," Deculein replied. "If it belonged to an attendant or Yeriel, it wouldn’t be this unkempt. Perhaps someone left a window open."

“Meow—!”

The cat meowed softly, winding itself around Yulie's leg.

"It appears to have chosen you."

Yulie cast a quick, uneasy glance at Deculein as the cat continued to meow, pressing its body against her leg.

"Why is it acting this way?" Yulie asked, her gaze gradually settling on the cat. "It kept meowing and pressing against me..."

"I should find its owner," Yulie said, lifting the cat with one arm and then rushed back to her room.

***

“University’s not my lover; I’m just a student, on a break getting away from the books~” Epherene sang, playfully altering the lyrics.

Epherene enjoyed herself for three days straight. Yet, she didn’t neglect the magic training manual Rohakan had given her or her review of Deculein’s Understanding Pure Elements. After all, she still hadn’t figured out the final problem on Deculein’s midterm exam.

“Phew.”

However, today, she had something much more important to attend to. It wasn’t related to Deculein’s review, her magic training, or even Roahawk.

“Pheeew.”

Today was the day Epherene would apply for the Solda Promotion Exam. She stood by the elevator to the Floating Island, her body and mind trembling with anxiety as she took a deep breath.

“Ephie!” Julia called from behind her in line.

“Oh, Julie! You’re here?”

“Yeah. The others will be a bit late today. Why don’t we have some meat at my place after your orientation?”

“Absolutely!” Epherene replied with exaggerated seriousness. Today, she was resolute—she would feast on Roahawk.

"Please ready yourselves for boarding," announced the attendant.

“It’s here. Let’s go, Ephie.”

“Yeah.”

Epherene and Julia boarded the elevator side by side. Though the tickets were typically costly, today’s fare was waived, courtesy of a professor’s recommendation.

Whirr—

The magical elevator swiftly rose, traveling several meters per second.

Ding—!

After about a minute, the elevator reached the Floating Island. Epherene exited and headed straight to Megiseon, directly approaching the counter on the first floor’s Proma level.

“Excuse me, I’m here to register for the Solda Promotion Exam,” Epherene said.

“May I have your documents and your identification, please?”

“Yes,” Epherene replied, pulling a bundle of certificates and her identification from her backpack.

“Debutant Epherene, your details are confirmed. The application fee for the promotion exam is 10,000 elne.”

Ten thousand elne. Epherene steadied herself with a deep breath before handing over her card, her hands trembling.

"Thank you. The orientation will take place in the auditorium just beyond the counter. Please proceed inside," the staff member instructed, gesturing toward the hall behind the counter.

“Okay.”

"Good luck, Ephie! I'm heading to the magic shop now~" Julia said.

“... Okay..”

A branch of the Flower of the Pig had recently opened, achieving such success that Yulie had quickly amassed considerable wealth. It was said she was now spending ten to twenty thousand elne each month, a fortune anyone would envy.

“Oh, I’m so nervous...”

Epherene drew in a deep breath, clenched her fists, and carefully stepped into the auditorium.

“... Oh?”

In the expansive auditorium, her eyes fell on a familiar head of blonde hair—it was Sylvia.

Epherene took a seat beside her and said, "I figured I'd run into you here. Hi."

Sylvia gave Epherene a brief glance but remained silent. Unfazed, Epherene shifted her attention to the room, observing her surroundings.

Epherene leaned closer and said, “Oh? Sylvia, it looks like there are adventurers here too, don’t you think?”

Sylvia remained silent.

“Right?”

“It’s fairly common,” said a man, appearing to be in his early to mid-twenties, seated next to Epherene, answering in place of Sylvia. “Many adventurers are also mages. Graduates of the Mage Tower who have maintained an adventurer’s license for more than two years are eligible to take the exam without completing the standard credit requirements.”

“Oh, really?”

“Additionally, this year, the adventurer’s exam and the Solda promotion exam are being conducted concurrently. Certain parts of the process might overlap,” the man said.

Adventurers and the Floating Island might appear worlds apart, yet they share a significant link. Both the early members of the Floating Island and the founder of the Adventurer’s Guild were, in fact, the same person—Rehefel.

"Oh, really? How do you know so much?" Epherene inquired.

The man smiled, holding out his adventurer’s license for her to see.

“Wow, you’re an adventurer?”

“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Karixel, a third-year adventurer.”

“If you’ve been an adventurer for three years, is it necessary for you to be promoted to Solda?”

Adventurers were generally ranked by the number of years they had been active. With the risk of losing their license after just one year of inactivity, the length of their career was a reliable indicator of their skill level.

“Haha, I have three children. The pay for a Solda is two to three times higher than that of a Debutant.”

"Ah... wait, three children? How old are you?" Epherene asked, her eyes widening in surprise. The man didn’t look a day over his mid-twenties.

“I’m thirty-three. I got married around ten years ago.” Karixel said.

“Whoa!”

Epherene gasped, covering her mouth, just as the auditorium lights began to dim.

"The orientation will now commence. Today’s session will be conducted by one of the supervisors who will oversee the promotion exam."

As the male mage stepped onto the podium, Epherene’s eyes widened in shock. Sylvia, sitting beside her, trembled so intensely that her entire body seemed to vibrate in her seat.

“Greetings.”

The voice was all too familiar to them.

“I am a Monarch-rank mage in charge of elements.”

The supervisor for today’s Solda Promotion Exam orientation was none other than the Head Professor of Mage Tower of the Imperial University, Deculein.

“I am Deculein.”