A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 90: Pendant? (1)

... Sylvia rested her head on someone’s arm in her dream, finding it warm and firm, just right as a pillow. But it wasn’t enough, so she moved closer, burying her face against his chest. Concerned she might be too forward, she felt reassured when he pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her.

Warmth filled her heart. The ground beneath her was soft, like grass, as flowers bloomed around her and butterflies and bees danced in the air. Everything was beautiful, as though the whole world were hers.

Yet, a lingering doubt caused a dull ache in her heart. He seemed to sense it, pulling her closer and whispering reassurances. Sylvia smiled, feeling a deep sense of peace in his embrace. She was no longer alone, no longer burdened by the weight of loneliness or sorrow, now that he was with her...

Sylvia’s eyes opened slowly to the sight of the ceiling in the artificial shelter she had made.

Scrub, scrub—

She touched her eyes, her fingertips coming away wet with tears.

“... Ah.”

The dream had been so blissful that it left her feeling empty. The emotions she had tried so hard to suppress surged within her, and the voice of someone refusing to let her ruin her life echoed in her mind once more.

Sylvia pressed her hands against her face, her breathing becoming erratic as panic began to overwhelm her. She shook for a moment before reaching into her pocket, pulling out a vial, and quickly swallowing the pill inside.

“Sigh...”

The overwhelming panic receded almost instantly, allowing her breathing to even out as she slowly regained her composure.

Whooosh...

She then began to break down the space she had formed with Primary Colors. As the hues slowly dissolved, the scene around her came into focus, revealing several people who had gathered nearby.

Epherene smirked and said, “Sylvia. I figured it was you.”

She stood nearby with Karixel and another woman.

Sylvia gave a slight nod and replied, “Foolish Epherene. You actually managed to pass.”

"Hmph. Of course I did. By the way, we were attacked earlier. Some strange people infiltrated the area—"

Epherene started to boast, but Sylvia remained indifferent, not even turning to look at her.

At that moment, the exam supervisor, Mimic, announced, “Alright, the 72 hours are up, and the exam is now over. Please gather around. Out of 1,013 participants, 113 have passed the first test. The remaining 900 will be assigned to different exams based on their categories.”

The examinees settled into their seats, their attention focused on the supervisor as he wrote names into the air.

"The second test is Mentor and Mentee. Consider it an interview. Select one of the listed supervisors and present yourself for evaluation."

The names of several esteemed mages appeared—Gindalf, Rogerio, Deculein, Ihelm, Crancia, and others. While Gindalf and Rogerio were particularly renowned, Sylvia’s focus had already settled on one name.

"You have 30 minutes to choose and position yourself in front of your selected supervisor's door."

The darkness in the corridor gradually receded, revealing a row of interview rooms. Each door displayed a nameplate with the name of a supervisor. Sylvia walked toward the door marked Deculein.

"Debutant Sylvia, Debutant Epherene, and several other Debutants are not permitted to be evaluated by Professor Deculein," Mimic abruptly announced.

Sylvia narrowed her eyes, and Epherene, standing behind her, frowned and asked, “What is the reason?”

“Because you are from the same university, which raises concerns about fairness.”

Sylvia hesitated before finally choosing the door marked Rogerio, a young mage who had attained the rank of Ethereal. After a moment’s pause, Epherene headed for Gindalf’s door.

"Please be aware that the higher the supervisor's rank and reputation, the more difficult the interview may be," Mimic cautioned.

Sylvia pouted as she glanced toward Deculein’s door. Two people stood before it—one was Karixel, whom she recognized, but the woman beside him was a stranger to her.

***

At the same time, only two participants, Karixel and Maiho, had chosen Deculein as their examiner. Deculein’s reputation for being difficult had apparently discouraged most of the hundred or so candidates, leaving only these two.

Karixel smiled brightly and said, “Miss Maiho, I’ll go in first.”

“Yes, please do~” Maiho replied cheerfully.

Karixel stepped into the room labeled with Deculein’s name. The room was minimalistic and neat, with Deculein seated at the far end.

“Good day, Professor Deculein. I appreciate your help earlier,” Karixel said as he closed the door behind him and approached.

He expressed his gratitude for Deculein’s earlier help, but Deculein showed little interest in formalities.

“Sit.”

“Yes, sir,” Karixel said as he took a seat. Before Deculein could speak, he added, “Professor, is this evaluation being recorded or monitored by a crystal orb?”

“What difference does it make?” Deculein replied curtly, glancing at Karixel’s report. He noted the details—age 33, three children, name Karixel.

Karixel continued with a serious tone, "It's important, Professor. Please, I need to know."

Deculein replied, “... I’m only writing a report. There are no recordings or monitoring.”

Karixel nodded, his expression firm.

“Thank you, Professor.”

Then, to Deculein’s surprise, he calmly stated, “I am a Scarletborn.”

Deculein looked up from the report, momentarily startled by the bold declaration. He tilted his head slightly, assessing the situation.

“Haha... My goal from the beginning was to speak with you in private. Though we’ve met twice before, there were too many eyes on us then, so I waited.”

“Were you aware of the test beforehand?” Deculein asked.

“Yes, Professor. To a certain degree,” Karixel admitted.

Deculein listened in silence, withholding any response.

“I’ve come to negotiate, Professor. The recent Grand Festival incident was not planned by our clan. We only wish for peace.”

Deculein remained still, the report held in his hands as he listened intently.

“That incident was planned by a religious cult known as the Altar. Our Great Elder will soon issue an official statement. If you desire, he is also prepared to engage in dialogue with the Empire—”

Deculein's face darkened without warning.

Thud—!

Leaning forward, Deculein fixed his gaze on Karixel and stated, “The Great Elder will be killed the moment he reveals himself.”

Karixel’s heart nearly stopped. He knew that Deculein’s words were not to be taken lightly. The Great Elder’s appearance would activate death triggers and sudden events, leaving no room for escape.

“I will correct myself. If he sets foot on Imperial soil or reveals himself in any way, I will personally ensure his death,” Deculein said, his voice cold and resolute.

This was the most dire warning that could be issued to the Great Elder, whose survival was essential to his people.

Deculein leaned back in his chair and said, “... Your courage is commendable. Since the Floating Island isn’t subject to the continent’s laws, what you’ve said will remain here. However...”

Deculein's stare weighed heavily on Karixel, the ghostly aura around him intensifying the pressure with every moment that passed.

"Don't misunderstand. This is not the time for Scarletborn like you to act, especially not in my presence. Disappear before you're eradicated. That's my advice to you."

Karixel had expected the negotiation to fail, but he was ready for this. His true goal was something else entirely.

“In that case, I request that you send me to Roharlak Concentration Camp,” Karixel said.

This request was even more bizarre. Deculein placed the pen and report aside.

“I’m more widely recognized as Brolin rather than Karixel.”

Deculein acknowledged with a slight nod. Brolin wasn’t a prominent named character, but he was on the Elite Guard’s wanted list of key fugitives.

“Professor, you could arrest me and enhance your reputation, while I would be reunited with my people in Roharlak. All I ask is that I’m permitted to bring a few personal items with me. Wouldn’t that be a fair exchange?”

Deculein scrutinized Karixel, who met his gaze without flinching.

"Why should I? I could capture you now and have you executed," Deculein remarked, his eyes narrowing as he gauged the sincerity in Karixel’s words.

"Of course you could, Professor. But do you remember Lokhak?" Karixel responded.

Lokhak, a Mage Killer from the Scarletborn, was the first of his kind that Deculein had ever met.

“Lokhak said you were a true noble, the only one who didn’t view the Scarletborn as demons. Was that untrue?”

Deculein was the only noble in Berhert who had protected the Scarletborn, sparing Lokhak’s life even after discovering his true identity. Karixel believed in Deculein’s honor and appealed to that sense of nobility.

“... And if you do go to Roharlak, what do you intend to do there?” Deculein inquired.

As a result, Karixel's plan had worked as intended.

“Are you aware that in Roharlak, every prisoner has their core forcibly removed, rendering them incapable of using mana, whether mage or knight?”

Karixel exhaled in relief and said, “I possess special items crafted through my attribute, the Midas Touch. Even if my core is removed, these items will remain functional. I request only to take them with me. They will not be used for any acts of terrorism or escape.”

Karixel possessed the same attribute as Deculein, a power originally bestowed upon him by Kim Woo-Jin. Deculein regarded him quietly.

Thump, thump—

Karixel's heart raced, but he remained composed. The agreement was beneficial to both parties, and finally...

"I could remove your core and sever one of your limbs."

"Yes, Professor. I’m prepared to accept that," Karixel replied.

It was a solemn agreement. Karixel then took out a notebook from his coat and began recording the details of his impending capture.

Deculein took the note, sliding it between his fingers, and warned, “If this is a ruse, I will annihilate your entire clan.”

“No, Professor. I trust that you won’t betray me, and I will uphold my side of the agreement,” Karixel replied, bowing deeply.

“Now get out of my sight.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Deculein watched Karixel depart, his broad back showing no fear of the trials ahead, only a quiet resolve to reunite with his people and lead them. Deculein found himself drawn to this man—Karixel was no ordinary figure, but a true leader.

As Karixel reached the door, Deculein called out, “I heard you have three children. Was that information false?”

Karixel paused, offering a faint, bittersweet smile as he replied, “It’s true, but they’ll be fine without me.”

“Hmph. A man of honor,” Deculein muttered, dismissing him with a wave of his hand, signaling him to leave.

***

Meanwhile, Sylvia sat in the interview room, conscious of Rogerio’s steady gaze. What stood out to her most was Rogerio’s striking pink hair.

“What d’ya see when ya look at this?” Rogerio asked, pointing to a magic circle on her desk.

Sylvia examined the circle carefully and said, “A city, with a mountain in the background and a river flowing through the center.”

“Good job, kid~ Ya passed.”

With her acceptance confirmed so quickly, Sylvia tilted her head in a childlike confusion.

Rogerio chuckled and explained, “This heah spell? Only folks who are real sensitive to mana and got a solid grasp on mana resonance and all those categories can make sense of it. To most mages, it’s just a buncha lines and circles. Even the more talented ones? They’d need at least ten minutes to figure it out. But you? You nailed it in ten seconds flat. So, we’re done heah.”

Sylvia held her silence, offering no reply.

“Oh? Don’t be givin’ me that look, this here’s usually wicked hard, yah know.”

Sylvia nodded and said, “So, may I leave now?”

“Sure thing. Take it easy, and we’ll catch up again. You’ll be headin’ to the Floating Island, yeah? Let’s hang out a bit longer there.”

Sylvia offered no reply to her final remark and simply walked out.

***

Gindalf

Epherene opened the door labeled with Gindalf’s nameplate, revealing a dimly lit corridor stretching out before her.

"This looks intense..." Epherene murmured, swallowing nervously as she stepped forward.

Gulp—

The ground crumbled beneath her, but she quickly projected her mana, forming a solid foothold. An arrow shot down from above, and she swiftly cast a Barrier spell to block it.

Whip-crack—!

Whips lashed out from all directions. Epherene cast the Flame Serpent spell, a fusion of flame and wind. The serpent, swift and fluid, wound through the air, engulfing the whips entirely.

“Phew! Well done, Epherene,” Epherene whispered to herself, wiping the sweat from her brow.

The corridor stretched on, cloaked in a thick, disorienting mist that made her head spin, whether it was smoke or something more.

“Huff... Huff...”

Epherene pushed forward, the dense mana weighing her down with every step. What felt like minutes stretched into what seemed like hours. Finally, a light appeared in the distance. As she neared it, she squinted and saw Gindalf, an elderly mage with a long white beard. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, resembling a figure from a fairytale as he watched her approach.

“... Ah!” Epherene exclaimed, quickly moving toward him.

Gindalf offered a warm smile and said, “Congratulations. You’ve successfully passed the interview.”

“... Sorry? That was all?”

“Yes. The corridor you traversed was a magical trap of my own design. It tests mental fortitude, mana control, and magical adaptability. If you made it through, that’s sufficient. There’s no need for a more complex interview or evaluation, particularly at your Solda rank.”

“Oh...”

It made sense now. For someone like Gindalf, who had reached the prestigious ranks of Ethereal or Monarch, a title like Solda was hardly impressive. To him, students of such a low rank were simply seen as charming novices.

“Let’s see... Your name is...” Gindalf began, glancing down at the documents on his desk.

Gindalf paused abruptly, his eyes widening as realization struck him. He lifted his gaze to study Epherene more intently. Startled by his sudden focus, Epherene straightened up, gripping her knees as she swallowed nervously.

“W-why do you look at me that way?”

“You are... Hmm...” Gindalf murmured, his brow furrowing in thought. “Smile for me and remove your robe.”

"W-what? M-my robe?"

“Go on.”

Epherene hesitated, puzzled by Gindalf's request. For a moment, she wondered if he could be a strange sort of kindly pervert, but she dismissed the thought. This was Gindalf, a highly respected figure. There had to be a valid reason. Reluctantly, she removed her robe.

“Now, smile.”

“But... w-why?”

“Quickly now!” Gindalf urged, his tone reminiscent of the stern, tiger-like chief from her hometown.

Epherene managed a strained smile.

"Not like that—no need to look like a monster."

"Monster? What do you mean—ah, haha!" Epherene burst out, laughing uncontrollably as Gindalf's magic tickled her sides. "Hahaha, stop it! Really, haha, stop! Hehe, haha!"

Gindalf leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh as he observed her bright smile.

“W-why are you doing this? I’ll report you!” Epherene said sharply, crossing her arms defensively.

Gindalf looked at her thoughtfully and murmured, “So, you’re the child from that pendant...”

“... What pendant?”

Gindalf remembered the moment well. A long time ago, Deculein had asked him to restore a pendant that held a child’s photo. Although he had only seen the image for a fleeting moment, his memory, sharpened by years of experience as an elder mage, retained every detail.

“What is your relationship with Deculein?” Gindalf inquired, his tone turning gravely serious.

"Sorry?" Epherene replied, thoroughly confused. "What do you mean by relationship...?"

"Be honest with me. You cannot hide the truth from my eyes," Gindalf said, his gaze sharpening as the power within them stirred.

Harmony, one of the categories of magic, dealt with connections—between worlds, between humans, and between anything and everything. For Gindalf, who had mastered the category, discerning truth from lies was a simple task.

Epherene, under the weight of his intense gaze, replied cautiously, “... He’s my enemy.”

“Your enemy?”

“Yes.”

“Deculein is your enemy?”

“... That’s all I’m going to say,” Epherene muttered, clamping her mouth shut. Gindalf crossed his arms, a look of clear confusion on his face. Epherene grew irritated, fidgeting with her fingers before snapping, “Why are you asking all these questions? Is this part of the interview?”

“... It’s intriguing that you regard Deculein as your enemy.”

"Why do you find that intriguing? If you do not explain yourself, I may have to report this."

“Report? For what reason?”

"You had me remove my robe and then tickled me without permission."

“What?”

"There has to be a reason for this, one that I can understand."

Gindalf stared at her in disbelief but mumbled, "You speak of him as your enemy, yet from what I perceive, Deculein seems to value you more than you might understand."

"... Sorry? He values me?" Epherene asked, her face contorting in disbelief.

The notion that Deculein could value her was so ludicrous it was hardly worth a thought.

“Why else would he go to the trouble of asking me, personally, to restore a pendant that was so worn and damaged?” Gindalf said, recalling the event.

“Elder Gindalf.”

“Hm? Deculein, is it me you are speaking to?”

"Yes, Elder Gindalf, I have a favor to ask of you."

Gindalf was surprised when Deculein approached him directly, given the longstanding animosity between their families dating back to his father’s time.

"This Deculein, whose father was once my enemy, came to me personally with a request. He possesses every ounce of his father's pride."

Deculein respectfully requested Gindalf to restore the pendant, paid the fee, and then quietly departed.

“What do you mean? E-explain everything from the start! Please, I’m begging you!” Epherene pleaded, her fists clenched tightly.

Gindalf regarded her, recognizing that there was nothing he could gain from the situation. In his younger years, he wouldn’t have entertained a request that didn’t promise some benefit. But perhaps he really was getting old, old enough to be amused and curious about things that once held no interest for him.

“Deculein once asked me to restore a pendant. Inside it was a photo of a child—of you, as a child. And now, you’ve grown up just as you appeared in that picture.”

Deculein had also mentioned about an assistant who had taken their own life, but Gindalf decided not to mention that part.

"As I mentioned, if it hadn’t been something truly significant, Deculein would never have asked me to restore it. His father despised me far too much for that."

Epherene stood motionless, her face empty of expression as she fixed her gaze on Gindalf. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze around her.

Gindalf said with a bitter smile, “He’s quite the curious one. For someone known to be so cold and detached, it was odd to see him carrying a pendant with a child’s picture inside... And that child turned out to be his student.”

Epherene stood in stunned silence, her expression rigid except for the faint flaring of her nostrils. Gindalf’s mouth twitched as he watched her reaction.

“Ah, it seems I’m truly getting old. Finding amusement in a young person’s confusion—perhaps this is what it means to be a meddlesome old man...”

Gindalf could almost hear Adrienne’s sharp voice ringing in his ears as he thought, Yes, that’s right!

Gindalf allowed himself a broad smile.