A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 211: Mage Tower of the University (2)

In the Hall of Learning within the Imperial Palace, Sophien received Deculein’s message from a maid.

“... My deepest apologies, Your Majesty,” the maid said.

“... It doesn’t matter. That’s just the kind of man that Professor is,” Sophien replied.

Sophien understood his reasoning—he would come on the scheduled lesson day, next Wednesday, not today. Deculein had always been defined by his principled commitment. A man of unshakable conviction, rooted like an ancient tree, never bending to anything that challenged his sense of what was right.

Then Sophien added, “If anything, seeing this has drained whatever interest I had in meeting him. Honestly, it’s for the best.”

As Sophien stared at the wooden box containing Rohakan, a bitter taste settled on her tongue for reasons she could not quite place.

How strange. This man deserved nothing but death—the one who assassinated the Empress, a disgrace upon the Empire’s history... and yet... Sophien thought.

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Creak—

Sophien lifted the lid of the wooden box and fell silent. At first, she thought it couldn’t be Rohakan—the face inside was that of a boy. But as she looked closer, recognition settled in. Though his eyes were closed in stillness, the faint trace of mana around the head belonged to none other than Rohakan.

“... So, he is indeed dead,” Sophien muttered, staring down at Rohakan’s severed head in the wooden box.

Even in death, Rohakan did not seem like a corpse. At any moment, it felt as if his eyes might snap open, his voice breaking the silence—just as it had that day—admitting that he had killed her mother.

“... This damned fool...”

Sophien’s memories of the day Rohakan assassinated the Empress were scattered, slipping through the gaps of her mind. Though she had a gift for deciphering events and reading between the lines, those moments remained unreachable. Whenever she tried to recall them, her thoughts recoiled, as if an unseen force pushed them away.

“Died with a face younger than mine,” Sophien muttered.

However, one fact remained unshaken—on that night, beneath the glow of the Blue Moon, Rohakan had admitted to assassinating the Empress.

“... You,” Sophien said as she raised her eyes, settling them on the maid.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty,” the maid replied with a flinch, her head still bowed low.

Just then, Rohakan’s voice stirred at the edge of Sophien’s hearing once more.

“Sophien, you must already know. Everyone who walks alongside you meets misfortune. Not a single one is spared.”

Among those she had once wished to keep by her side, Rohakan had been one. And in the end, he had proven it in his own way.

“What is your name?” Sophien asked, for the first time in her life, asking a maid's name.

“... Ahan, Your Majesty,” the maid answered.

“Ahan, I have an imperial command for you,” Sophien said.

At the Empress’s words, Ahan lowered herself even further and replied, “Yes, Your Majesty. I remain deeply honored by your favor. I will follow your command—”

"Steel yourself and do whatever it takes to escape misfortune."

“Without question...?”

Ahan's voice trailed off in uncertainty, but as she cautiously raised her head and met Sophien’s eyes, she dropped it again, pressing her forehead to the floor.

"Never let misfortune consume you," Sophien repeated.

"... Yes, Your Majesty. But how could misfortune ever reach me? Simply standing by your side is already a blessing beyond measure..."

Sophien paid no mind to the maid's formal pleasantries and closed the lid of the wooden box. Setting Rohakan aside in a drawer, she opened the Advanced Tsumego once more—a collection of Go problems Deculein had prepared for her.

Grit—

As she worked through the problems one by one, a burning frustration swelled within her—no, it wasn’t sudden, but rather something she had been holding back had finally broken free.

"... They say patience is a virtue, yet now that he’s been called, he chooses not to come."

Lost in thought, Sophien muttered about that damned man, Deculein, as she worked through problem after problem. Before she realized it, she had reached the final page. Every challenge had been solved, leaving only a blank space at the very end—where two lines of text remained, and her eyes settled upon them.

For you, whose nobility stands above all.

May this serve as a small comfort along the solitary road you travel.

The final lines of the book were undeniably meant for Sophien. As she read those two lines, she let out a scoff, as if mocking them, yet couldn't hide the bright smile that followed on her lips.

***

The Imperial University’s grounds were expansive—so much so that one could call it a city unto itself. Even if it were cut off from the continent, it had the infrastructure to sustain itself. Aside from its students, hundreds of thousands passed through its gates daily, and the trends born here quickly spread to the Empire’s youth.

It was a beacon of culture, a source of pride, and the cradle of legions of brilliant minds. I walked through its grand campus, letting the weight of its legacy settle around me.

“... Hmmmmmm!”

With the Chairwoman eyeing me with suspicion and Epherene dragging her feet beside me, her face drowsy from whatever she had been up to the previous night, we walked together.

“There is no way!” the chairwoman shouted after staring at me for a long moment.

“What are you referring to?” I replied.

"How could you, Professor Deculein, possibly kill Rohakan? That doesn’t make any sense!"

“Is that so?”

"Yes, that is so!" Adrienne puffed up, her nose flaring like a steaming kettle, frustration written all over her face. "I thought you’d lose to Rohakan and come running to me for help!"

Well, in a way, fairies could be considered a martial race, I thought.

"I used physical force," I replied.

“What?! Physical magic?!”

"I felled him with my sword."

It was not completely a lie.

“... Oh,” the Chairwoman gawked, gripping my arm with wide eyes. “You've got some real muscle! But was it really a fair victory if you caught Rohakan off guard?!”

"I never said I caught him off guard," I replied.

“Yes, you did!”

“Yaaaaawn—ugh!” Epherene yawned, only to lose her footing with a startled gasp.

“Yes, you did! Yes, you did! Yes, you did!” Adrienne continued.

Through the noise and chaos, I walked on without pausing until I arrived at the Head Professor’s office.

“Yes, you did!”

Tuning out Adrienne, who persistently followed behind me and shouted, I settled into my chair.

“Yes, you—”

"More importantly, it seems the Altar will be making its move soon," I said.

“... The Altar?” Adrienne replied.

"Yes, they are the ones that instigated the southern advance."

“Instigated the southern advance?”

“Yes.”

With Rohakan now dead—though not entirely, as what remained of him was now confined to the vineyard—the Altar would soon begin its advance.

“... I never thought Professor Deculein would believe in such conspiracy theories!” Adrienne said with mild disappointment.

I paused in thought before giving a slight nod.

The Altar, on the continent, was much like the Illuminati in modern times—not that the Illuminati actually exists, of course—but most dismiss the Altar as nothing more than a distant religious sect or an obscure cult.

Few understood that the massacres and oppression of the Scarletborn, the instigation intensifying the southern advance, and nearly every ripple of social chaos were the Altar’s doing. Even those who knew had no way to prove it, and only a few named characters were aware.

"Yes. If there is no further news, I ask that you take your leave. I have much to attend to," I said.

“... There is more!” Adrienne exclaimed, pulling a stack of papers from her robe. “The entrance exam! This time, nobles from the Principality and Kingdom will be taking it! And these—documents for the entrance festival!”

I scanned the list—names of high-ranking nobles and even royalty from the Principality of Yuren, the Leoc Kingdom, the Gahala Desert, and beyond. With so many gathered in the Empire, unexpected sudden quests were inevitable to follow.

"And Professor, you're one of the judges!"

“Is that so?” I said.

"Yes! Please be strict but fair in your evaluation! But, there are donation-based applicants too—I marked them with a gold star!"

The number of gold stars seemed to correspond to the amount of the donation—one, two, or three. But in this world, admission through wealth was nothing unusual.

Then Adrienne added, "Please go easy on them!"

"I would suggest that you not make such a request of me."

"Oh, come on! Still!"

Thud—

"If they are capable, they will earn their place," I said, shutting the list.

"... You really don’t understand how the Mage Tower works! We need donation-based students for the funds to keep flowing! How do you expect to become Chairman like this?!"

"Yes, that will do. Now, I suggest you take your leave."

"Sheesh! Professor Deculein, you’re no fun anymore!"

By this point, it almost seemed like she was trying to pick a fight on purpose.

The Chairwoman narrowed her eyes, staring at me for a moment before turning away and stomping out of the room.

"Epherene," I called, ignoring the Chairwoman as I picked up my fountain pen.

“... Eh?” Epherene mumbled, blinking drowsily as she raised her head.

"Submit your thesis."

"Ah..." Epherene mumbled as she staggered over, handing me a thick stack of papers.

With the spring season bringing a flood of thesis reviews and evaluations, my responsibilities as both Head Professor and PCO Director left no room for distraction. Beyond reviewing papers from assistants like Epherene, I was planning to personally assess the work of professors and even graduate-level mages.

"And yet, why do you look so miserable?" I asked.

“... Why do you keep forgetting? You’re the one who said I shouldn’t sleep without your permission. So I didn’t,” Epherene grumbled, her cheeks puffed in annoyance as she glared at me.

"... You follow instructions well, at least. Get some rest."

“Okay,” Epherene muttered before dropping her head onto her desk, burying her face in her arms.

As Epherene returned to her desk, I began reviewing her thesis.

***

The next day, chaos broke out in the Mage Tower of the University before the semester had even started—an unprecedented event before the semester had officially begun.

"Professor Relin, have you submitted your thesis?" asked Relin's assistant.

“... I—”

"Professor, by any chance... is it true that Head Professor Deculein—"

"Hey, I know! That’s why I’m revising it right now!” Relin shouted.

It was because of the official notice that had come down from the office of the Head Professor on the 77th floor of the Mage Tower—who was all but certain to become the next Chairman.

All professors of the Mage Tower, as well as mages aspiring to a faculty position in the Department of Magic, must submit their spring theses to the 77th floor.

I, Deculein, will personally review each submission. Deficiencies will be corrected where possible, while those deemed irredeemable will be discarded.

How exactly the Head Professor planned to review the faculty and graduate students' theses personally remained uncertain. After all, combined, their papers would amount to hundreds—if not thousands—of pages.

“Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”

As a result, Relin and the rest of the faculty were far from pleased.

Spring was usually a season of leniency, where things were overlooked. And now, with the upcoming admissions, even preparing to receive the royal entrants was overwhelming enough, Relin thought.

"... Can’t believe I’m rushing to finish a paper like some student at my age," Relin muttered, holding up his thesis, revised in a hurry.

"A full review like this is practically a complete investigation, isn’t it?" the assistant professor added beside him.

"Exactly. As if that even makes sense... Come on, let’s go submit it. Knowing that professor, who knows what he’ll say if we’re late."

Relin stepped into the hallway, stroking his mustache, his grumbling continuing without pause.

"Does he really think he can review thousands of pages on his own? If that professor becomes Chairman, I might as well pack my bags and leave for the Kingdom,” Relin said.

"Yes. If you leave for the Kingdom, Professor Relin, I will follow," the assistant professor replied.

"Of course, that’s only natural... Huh? Hey! Professor Siare!"

On the way to the elevator, they ran into Professor Siare, whose face was pale with exhaustion. Fatigue weighed heavily on her, like a heavy cloak, leaving her slumped as if she might collapse—like a wilted scallion left out for too long.

"Did you also spend the night revising your thesis?" Relin asked.

"Yes, it turned out that way," Siare replied.

"... What a mess this has become," Relin muttered, shaking his head as he stepped into the elevator.

"Professor Relin, I heard you've built connections in Leoc," Siare said with a hint of envy.

"They’ve offered me the title of Head Professor if I join the Mage Tower of the Kingdom. I’m still considering it... but if Head Professor Deculein keeps pushing us like this, I just might take them up on it," Relin said, clearing his throat.

"I envy you... Head Professor Deculein’s insistence on this exhaustive complete review is wearing everyone thin."

A complete review—Deculein’s decision to personally evaluate every professor’s spring thesis—was nothing short of impractical undertaking. Even among scholars, assessing a colleague’s research demanded significant time, often stretching to at least a week.

The variety of magic categories only compounded the challenge, as understanding the complexities of an advanced field beyond one’s own specialized categories was no easy task.

However Deculein...

Ding—!

The elevator came to a stop, and as they stepped onto the 77th floor, Relin and Siare let out heavy sighs. After exchanging a glance, Relin gave a small nod before knocking on the office door.

"Come in," Deculein commanded from within.

With the Northern Region settled and Rohakan executed by the Head Professor, Yukline’s influence now soars to the heavens. If I am to leave for the Kingdom, I must face him with nothing less than perfection, Relin thought,

"Yes, Professor. This is Relin and Siare," Relin said, adjusting his tie as he opened the door.

The moment the door opened, the first thing they saw was Deculein, seated in his office chair, his blue eyes—the most commanding and fearsome presence in the Mage Tower—watching them in silence.

Wearing a servile smile, Relin stepped forward and said, "Head Professor Deculein, I heard the news! Rohakan has been—"

"Just hand over your thesis," Deculein interrupted.

“... Yes, Professor.”

Relin and Siare stepped forward in turn, submitting their theses. Deculein took Relin’s first, skimming through it with a glance.

"Professor, you may find page thirteen somewhat intricate," Relin said, gauging Deculein’s expression. "I faced quite a challenge with the calculations myself..."

Deculein spared Relin a brief glance at Relin before turning to page thirteen.

"No matter how capable you are, Professor, this will take a great deal of time... Do you intend to review all the theses on your own—”

"13%. One hundred seventy-three."

“... Pardon?”

"Was the question not about the mana concentration of the mana stone and the number of circuits?" Deculein said.

Relin swallowed hard. A mana stone with over 13% mana concentration and exactly one hundred seventy-three spell circuits—those were the correct answers.

It took me three days, Relin thought.

“Oh... hahaha... Yes, that is correct, Professor. But with conventional methods, the calculations take quite some time. As expected, Professor, you have already mastered Deron’s Inverse Calculation—”

"I calculated it using standard methods."

“... Pardon me?”

"It has been about three months since Deron’s Inverse Calculation was introduced. That calculation formula is flawed—an unstable theory riddled with weaknesses. It is a shortcut, not the proper path, and such methods inevitably lead to problems. When working with equations, always take the most standard approach. Follow the proper path," Deculein added.

I used standard calculations and still couldn’t solve it in three days—no, even then, I had to rely on Deron’s Inverse Calculation just to barely find the answer... Relin thought.

Relin, completely at a loss, turned to Siare with a look of confusion.

“... Ahem,” Siare muttered, glancing between Deculein and Relin before discreetly retrieving her thesis. “It seems my paper requires further refinement, so I’ll take it back for another revision. Professor Relin, best of luck. And Head Professor, I wish you success as well.”

Relin watched in disbelief as Siare hurried away, leaving him behind.

Thud—!

Left alone with Deculein in the closed office of the Head Professor, sweat began to bead on Relin’s forehead.