A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 228: Return (3)

God—the final boss of this world—was the last vestige of the Holy Era and the most dangerous blight left behind.

"Above all else, the top priority is to bring Her Majesty back," I said.

“Hmm... So this regression was meant for Her Majesty all along,” Epherene muttered.

“Indeed. It was Her Majesty's authority.”

It was called Authority, a proof of divinity.

"But why did it come to me?” Epherene asked, as if she'd been waiting for the right moment.

“Authority exists in this world like entropy—always in balance. And you, among all mages, are the one most aligned with the concept of time.”

“Ant... what?”

In the game’s setting, Authority never disappeared. However, if the one who held it died or lost it for any reason, it would always pass on—seeking someone new. And not just anyone; it chose based on talent, selecting the one whose nature fit like a key in a lock.

"You don’t need to know every detail. But your regression—it’s nothing like Her Majesty’s."

In the game’s system, Sophien’s death meant game over—and likely, the same held true in reality. Her regression carried the weight of creation itself, capable of tearing the world down and rebuilding it anew. However, Epherene’s regression was nothing like that.

Why?“

"It’s simple. Think of the gap between your magic and that of a mage who’s just stepped into the Tower."

"I could flatten someone like that in one blow... Oh—okay," Epherene replied, letting out a breath of quiet laughter and nodding. "Okay, okay. Loud and clear. Got it in one go."

Sophien’s regression wasn’t just stronger because of who she was. Compared to Epherene’s, it was inevitable—Sophien had carried it out for well over a century. With that kind of weight and time behind her, of course her power would outmatch Epherene’s.

"Should I just wait now, then?"

"What remains is mine to shoulder.”

“Umm... then, I think maybe you should keep this with you, Professor...” Epherene said, reaching to her side and pulling a wooden pocket watch from her waist.

“It belongs to you,” I replied, shaking my head.

“Oh? How do you know this?”

“Every step you’ve taken is marked on that watch.”

Through my Sharp Eyesight, I saw it—time and time again—marked deep into that pocket watch. Every cycle of regression she went through, every fragment of her mana, still lingered within it.

“Oh! Then do you know what this is for, Professor?” Epherene asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Old man Rohakan gave it to me.”

“If Rohakan gave it to you, then it’ll serve its purpose someday. You’ll understand when the time comes,” I replied.

“That’s a fancy way of saying you don’t know,” Epherene muttered, blinking with a strange look on her face.

I remained silent.

“Anyway,” Epherene said as she clipped the pocket watch back to her belt. “... Thank you. For keeping your promise.”

***

... Over the past twenty cycles of regression, during which both Deculein and the Empress had died, the Altar had molded the Empire to its influence. With each regression, the continent slipped further into ruin and collapse. Hope, it seemed, had long since faded from sight.

However...

"First, we must restrain the spread of unfounded rumors among the Empire’s officials—whether in cities, towns, or rural provinces. Silence the press before their disturbances breed chaos; still their pens before their ink turns poisonous."

With the return of just one life...

“We must deploy the standing army to tighten security along the capital and the borderlands. At the same time, we must dispatch a formal communiqué to the Eight Nations, making it clear that this is a domestic campaign to restore internal stability.”

The balance of the continent began to settle—unnaturally quickly, almost frightening in its silent harmony.

“Until the root of the disturbance is uncovered and exterminated, we must seal the Empire’s gates, as any departure from the Empire must be suspended. In the meantime, hold the Eight Nations’ merchants, envoys, nobles, and royals within our lands—not as declared hostages, but as leverage.”

Watching the turn of events develop, Epherene came to understand why the Altar had targeted Professor Deculein after Empress Her Majesty.

“Through this, we will be able to compel the continent to align with the Empire’s order.”

Deculein had become both the pillar and the center of the Empire. Even in the absence of Empress Her Majesty, the nation held fast around him. His natural talent for politics and his resolute determination were more than enough to stand in place of the Empress herself.

“... Your suggestions are sound,” replied Kreto.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Though this was the grand imperial hall of the Imperial Palace, the one seated on the throne was not Sophien, but her younger brother, Kreto.

“And beyond that?” Kreto asked, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow as he sought Deculein’s counsel.

“As for internal threats, you need not be concerned, Grand Prince. Yukline has already mobilized the full extent of its intelligence network to root them out,” Deculein replied.

“... Very well. Does anyone here oppose Deculein’s suggestions?” Kreto said, sweeping his eyes across the grand imperial hall.

The grand imperial hall was filled with officials, yet not a single voice was raised in objection.

“Very well. Then this grand hall session shall conclude here. You are all dismissed,” Kreto declared.

At the command, the officials bowed and slipped away in haste, like leaves scattered by the wind. Only Deculein and the nobles who followed him remained, their steps resolute and their dignity unshaken.

“Professor, do sessions in the grand hall always end so quickly?” Epherene asked as she hurried to his side, matching his pace.

"Because there was no one to oppose me."

"Why wouldn’t there be?" Epherene asked, tilting her head with a curious look.

"Because they're all dead."

“... Eh?”

"I had them eliminated."

"Umm..." Epherene murmured, momentarily in stunned silence.

In moments like these, the cold brutality of Deculein revealed itself.

“They’ll come back to life, after all.”

"... I know that, but still."

“But you, at least, will never be in danger.”

Epherene didn’t know if that was a kindness or a cruelty. All she could do was swallow the lump rising in her throat.

“Return to your stations and see to your duties,” Deculein commanded, glancing at the nobles who stood by him. “With Her Majesty in critical condition, the weight of responsibility we bear is not light. Yukline will lend its full strength—strengthen your defenses and remain vigilant. Leave nothing to chance.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Epherene, be prepared now,” Deculein said, after the nobles had left in an orderly fashion.

“Sorry? Prepare for what?”

“Since this time serves no greater meaning, I will use it to teach you.”

“... Oh.”

Epherene understood what he meant immediately. In the unending loops of regression, the only things that remained untouched were memory and knowledge. Even now, Epherene had not yet fully understood the thesis authored by Deculein and Luna.

"Yes, Professor," Epherene said, nodding with quiet determination.

***

... Time moved meaninglessly, the days floating by like scraps, all leading toward April 9th. To prevent those hollow moments from passing in vain, I taught Epherene. I revised her thesis, lectured her on theories crafted specifically for her, and ensured she completely understood the nature of carbon.

"Make sure you don't forget," I said.

After more than a month had passed, I stood by the lake behind the Imperial Palace on the night of April 8.

— You too. Take care of yourself, Professor, and don't forget about me.

Just in case, I left Epherene in a guest chamber of the Imperial Palace under the protection of Delic and Yulie, communicating with me over the radio as I moved ahead.

— By the way, what did you think of the list I sent? Midnight’s almost here.

“Every name has been noted.”

The names Epherene gathered over twenty cycles of regression—spies and hidden agents secreted within the Empire—formed a list that would, in time, become invaluable.

— Yes, Professor. And if you forget them, I'll remind you once again.

I gave a silent nod and looked into the still surface of the lake—the same lake where Sophien and I had once cast our lines together.

— How is the lake, Professor?

"It’s calm,” I replied.

Plop.

Just as I answered, a raindrop fell and disturbed the still surface of the lake, sending out faint ripples from which a shimmer of mana began to rise.

Plop. Plop.

Rain fell from the sky, and where it touched the lake, the ripples gathered into a faint outline—someone’s face. I watched in silence as the image, though blurred, appeared clear to me, as if the water had remembered.

“... You must be God.”

Plop. Plop. Plop.

However, as if it wasn’t time yet, His reflection rippled with the falling rain and slipped out of sight from the surface of the lake. I looked up at the sky in silence.

Drip, drip. Drip, drip.

Shielding myself from the growing rain with Telekinesis, I stood still, reflecting on the memories I must never forget—quietly repeating them, engraving them into my mind like a sculpture.

Drip, drip, drip...

As a subject, my most fundamental responsibility was protecting the Empress.

— It’s almost midnight, Professor. I’ll start the countdown. Five!

However, this world without Sophien was merely an imitation of what it once was, meaning the game was already over in such a condition.

— Four!

Therefore, Sophien—proof that this world is real—must live.

— Three!

For this world, with this world.

— Two!

And with me...

— One!

Midnight arrived. April 9th—the point where time turns back again.

***

I opened my eyes in Yukline’s underground crystal cavern, and almost instinctively, I checked the wristwatch—exactly midnight. But the memories that flooded in weren’t just from the most recent cycle. Every one of the twenty-some cycles of regression I’d stumbled through—those I wasted, those I survived—was still there, vivid and whole.

“Hmm,” I murmured, letting out a quiet breath.

Inside the crystal cavern was a sack filled with grains of sand—a task that once burdened me but now only brought a quiet smile. After watching it for a moment, I returned to the surface, stepped into the heart of the garden, and turned back to look at the cavern’s entrance.

Chirp, chirp— Chirp, chirp, chirp—

A birdcall—two notes, then three. A pale blue glow seeped through the underground cavern. Five slanted beams of light carved through the darkness at the same precise angle... but they were gone, as it was still night after all.

“Ren,” I called.

No reply came—of course not. It was still night, and even Ren would be asleep by now. So I moved on my own. I walked to the garage, pulled open the car door. I didn’t have the key, but Telekinesis was enough.

Vroom—

I hit the accelerator the moment the engine roared into action. I didn’t care what day it was, or whether I’d landed in a timeline where Sophien was still alive—or already dead. That didn’t matter. I’d find out soon enough once I got there.

***

Plop—

The fishing line slipped into the lake, and Sophien rested her chin on her hand, quietly watching the still surface.

“... How interesting,” Sophien muttered.

Just watching the line float... and yet I’m not bored. It’s oddly entertaining. I even find myself waiting in anticipation. Is it because, for once, even an Empress’s authority means nothing? Or is it merely the quiet thrill of wondering—will it bite, or won’t it? Sophien thought.

By the lake, Sophien's thoughts flowed with the ripples. Though the hour was late, moonlight spilled across the water, keeping the darkness at bay. Then, almost to herself, she muttered.

“I wonder if a single Manafin might take the bait.”

Just then, the line trembled—bubbling with motion. In a swift motion, Sophien pulled the rod upward and checked her catch—Manafin. With a faint chuckle, she changed the bait and cast the line back into the moonlit lake.

Plop—

The fishing line slipped into the lake, and Sophien rested her chin on her hand, quietly watching the still surface.

The next one might be—

“Out here by yourself, Your Majesty?”

At the sound of a voice breaking the stillness, Sophien turned slowly toward it. Lost in the quiet rhythm of fishing, she had let her guard down completely...

“Hmm?”

The man whose face surfaced beneath the moonlight was none other than Deculein.

“What brings you here?” Sophien asked, her brow knitting slightly.

“I came to see you, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied as he took the seat beside her.

“You came all this way just for me?” Sophien replied, shooting him a look of pure disbelief.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

"Did the guards of the Imperial Palace grant you permission to enter the inner Imperial Palace?"

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“... Have they all lost their minds?” Sophien muttered, letting out a scoff of disbelief.

“It was a privilege granted by Your Majesty herself—unrestricted access to the Imperial Palace,” Deculein replied, pulling out an Elite Guard Identification Card from within his coat.

Sophien muttered with a frown, “I must’ve been out of my mind back then—”

“Anyhow.”

Plop—

Deculein cast his line into the water, and the two fishing lines floated side by side in the heart of the lake.

“What are you—”

Sophien had been just about to chide him—of all the places in the expansive lake, why cast his line so close to hers. But then...

“I'm glad I found you here.”

Deculein’s sudden words caught her off guard, leaving Sophien momentarily silent. Sophien gave him a sideways glance, as until he appeared, everything had progressed with quiet familiarity, but now it felt like something didn’t quite belong.

“... You came here to fish?”

“I came to see you, Your Majesty.”

Sophien remained silent.

“And if Your Majesty will allow it, I would like to remain by your side—just for this coming week.”

“Have you completely lost it?” Sophien replied, her face hardening, her lips curling in disbelief. “What nonsense are you spouting—did you take something?”

“No, Your Majesty.” Deculein replied, his voice unshaken.

Then Deculein turned to her, with Sophien, once just an image beside the lake, now reflected in the quiet blue of his eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

“... You’ve lost your mind. I don’t know what got into you, but it must’ve been something strong.”

Sophien found his sudden earnestness overwhelming, and with a quiet cough, she stood up—half to compose herself, half to change the mood.

Squelch—

Just then, the line gave a sudden tug. Startled, Sophien dropped back into her seat and jerked the rod up in one quick motion.

Splaaaash—!

The fish leapt from the surface, slicing the water like a blade—one she had never seen before.

“What is this thing?” Sophien asked as she held up the fish and gave Deculein a questioning look.

Of course he’d know. There’s nothing that man doesn’t have an answer for, Sophien thought.

And, as always, Deculein didn’t disappoint.

“That would be an Arangfin, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied.

“An Arangfin?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Judging by its rounded belly, I’d say she’s carrying eggs.”

Sophien released the Arangfin back into the lake, as it didn’t feel right to take a fish that carried new life.

Pat, pat—

Sophien dusted off her hands and began to walk along the Imperial Palace. Deculein followed without hesitation, matching the graceful rhythm of her steps. Their footsteps, in perfect rhythm, echoed like a quiet waltz across the still night.

"You, Professor," Sophien said, turning back with her eyes narrowing as her voice cut through the night. "Why are you following me?"

“Allow me to stay by Your Majesty’s side—if only for a little while.”

“I don’t recall ever granting such permission.”

“Then let it be disobedience.”

“... What did you just say?” Sophien replied, letting out a dry laugh, half disbelieving.

“It is to keep Your Majesty from ever facing death again,” Deculein replied.

“... Death?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

A chill wind swept through the empty corridors of the Imperial Palace, whispering through the dark and silent halls.

As his eyes met the Empress’s, glowing crimson in the dark, Deculein added, “I have seen the future, Your Majesty—one where you have passed away.”