A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 255: Event (2)

Endlessly swimming through the sea of the Voice, I gained more than just the blossoming of my mental strength. In simplest terms, my body—enhanced by the Iron Man attribute—bore a likeness to that of a whale. Of course, in a world where men broke stones and cast magic, thinking of a whale as nothing more than a whale would have been to miss the point entirely.

However, just as the tiger of the continent reigned over the mountain, the whale remained the sovereign of the sea.

Therefore, no matter the era or place—be it the distant modern world or the continent I now live on—humans have always felt the same before the whale. Faced with that noble form, we can’t help but feel a quiet awe, shrinking into small, humble beings beneath the immensity of nature.

“... Hmm.”

That wasn’t to say my body held the same overwhelming presence—after all, I was still no larger than any other human.

However, this Iron Man body of mine had grown tougher than most armor, its skin like that of a whale. Though it lacked a whale’s mana capacity, every magical ability I possessed—Telekinesis foremost among them—had evolved. Advanced Telekinesis, a skill I once thought would take five years to reach, I had mastered in the sea.

"The time has come," I said.

Tick—!

As the minute hand of my wristwatch struck ten, I took a step forward—and in that instant, the ground beneath me gave way.

Cruuuuuuumble...

The earth, trees, and grass crumbled piece by piece, falling away in whole, while the magical trap beneath swallowed them into swirling darkness. Yet, I stood suspended in midair, my feet touching nothing.

It was the simplest application of Advanced Telekinesis—delicate strands of force applied to every fiber of my clothing, carrying my body effortlessly into flight. And because the levitation was so seamless, not a shred of my dignity was disturbed.

Boooooooooom—!

At that moment, dozens of massive pillars came rushing toward me from the distance—they were siege rams.

With nothing more than a glance, I dismantled them.

Shhhhhhhhh...

Each siege ram that met my eyes shattered midair, its trajectory crumbling into nothing but falling stones.

Thwwiiiiiiiiiiip—!

The second wave followed—archers. Hundreds of iron arrows tore through the air, only to be caught mid-flight by Telekinesis and sent whirling back toward their attackers, while the faint cries of those struck down reached my ears.

Then came the third wave—magic. A mass of mana descended from the sky like a falling meteor, while tendrils of water wrapped themselves around my ankles.

Then came the fourth wave—warriors. Before the meteor could descend, dozens of Vigilantes charged toward me, storming forward like men with nothing left to lose.

“... How foolish.”

They brought their full might—land, sea, and sky alike arrayed against me—and yet, despite it all, a quiet sigh slipped from my lips.

They don’t even know the road that leads to survival. Then again... with so many Intelligence Agency operatives nearby, I couldn’t tell them even if I tried to, I thought.

“Tch.”

I dismantled their magic, wrapping the warriors in strands of Duct Tape and leaving them suspended in the air, while the earth itself rose around them.

Ruuuuumble—!

Then, I raised a great dome over the entire area, sealing Padahal completely—closing off even the slightest chance of escape.

“Ah!”

Forty-three warriors charged at me—some tangled midair in Duct Tape, others watching their weapons and mana dissolve into particles under Telekinesis. As they turned their heads back, every face was locked in rigid silence.

Of course, it was their plan to buy time—to get the remaining Scarletborn to escape.

"How shortsighted," I said, brushing the loose buttons on my sleeve. "The Scarletborn never thinks beyond the moment."

I floated forward, meeting the eyes of one among them, and they held my eyes without flinching or looking away.

“Hmm.”

I couldn't yet tell if they were men or women, but my Sharp Eyesight saw it clearly—the rare resolve, the raw talent burning beneath those eyes—and so I moved toward them.

“... Not a bad eye.”

Hummmmm...

I raised the Wood Steel from my inner pocket, letting it hover at my side with Telekinesis.

"I like it. That conviction—hold onto it for as long as you can," I said, smiling slightly as I gestured, sending Wood Steel straight into their eyes.

“Arghhhhhhhhh!”

Crunch—!

I heard the wet crunch of crushed eyes and the screams that followed—but paid them little mind as I reached for the radio.

***

Over three thousand four hundred from the Scarletborn village of Padahal—everyone confined to Roharlak concentration camps.

Stamp—!

I stamped the seal that would send the Scarletborn into confinement.

However, sitting across from me, Bethan's expression held a hint of dissatisfaction.

“... Will that be alright, Professor? There are already an overflowing number of Scarletborn in Roharlak,” Bethan asked, his lips pressed into a wary line.

"If you're referring to the detention allowance, I will place the full sum in your hands," I replied.

"No, Professor," Bethan said, shaking his head. "It's just that I wonder what might happen if so many Scarletborn are pressed together..."

"Then we will kill them."

Like Bethan said, Roharlak was the only concentration camp that had never once activated its gas chamber—which meant more Scarletborn were held there than anywhere else.

“You’re right, of course... Yes, Professor—you’re always right. But what will you do about Primien?” Bethan asked, sliding the official document into its file.

"I heard she passed the blood test," I replied, nodding.

"Yes, Professor. But even so, I cannot shake the doubt. There's something in her that leans toward the Scarletborn."

Primien, whom I’d sent away under the excuse of the Voice, had recently undergone a direct blood test from Bethan. I didn’t know how she managed it, but she passed—though Bethan’s eyes, and the nobles’, hadn’t softened.

"It doesn't matter. Primien will be brought down from the ministry soon enough."

"Oh, is that so? May I ask where you plan to send her?"

“To Roharlak.”

"Haha!" Bethan murmured, a chuckle escaping him.

Moving from Deputy Director of the Ministry of Public Safety to assistant administrator of Roharlak was a staggering demotion. But for Primien, it was the only chance she had to survive.

"Whether Primien is a Scarletborn or a daughter of the Empire sympathetic to them, she will reveal herself there through some sign or act. The agents in Roharlak will be watching—every hour, every moment."

"As expected... Professor, no one compares. But lately, I've noticed strange shadows gathering around you."

I nodded.

Whether it was the Intelligence Agency of the Empire, the Shade reporting directly to the Empress, or both—or neither—I couldn’t be sure, but many hands were digging into my past.

"I have no idea who would dare follow the Professor's footsteps—"

“It’s none of your concern.”

"Yes, yes, of course. More importantly, how would you have us set the schedule for the core harvest?" Bethan asked, opening the names on Padahal’s list.

"Erase this one from the list," I said, my eyes gliding across the list, scanning the names and faces before pointing to one.

Lucy—I had my suspicions even back then, and sure enough, she was a Scarletborn named character, whose role was written for the latter parts of the scenario.

"Pardon? This one is a member of the Vigilante. If we confine her without harvesting her core..." Bethan said, his brow furrowing in uncertainty.

“It violates the Scarletborn Law,” I said.

“Scarletborn Law...?”

“All Scarletborn, upon being confined, are to have their core—or an organ of equal worth—harvested.”

Either the core, or an organ close enough to stand in its place—just one, not both, taken for the process.

“I have already extracted her retina.”

"... Oh, so that's the Scarletborn who dared to glare at you, Professor. However, I doubt anyone would speak against it if we harvested her core too—"

"It’s Her Majesty’s law, written by her own hand, and I am bound not to break it."

Of course, it wouldn't matter either way, but Deculein's pathological commitment to principle was infamous across the Empire.

"Yes, Professor—your loyalty is beyond reproach. I, too, would not wish to transgress the law. I will see this Scarletborn treated only with a light touch of drug treatment," Bethan replied, his smile returning as he nodded in agreement.

“Very well.”

***

At the same time, elsewhere, Primien stepped alone onto the grounds of Roharlak.

"It’s stupidly hot,” Primien muttered.

Primien arrived with no escort, no guard, and no one at her side; demoted, she carried no luggage, no money—only the weight of her fall.

"Oh, she's here," Yeriel said, waving from the gates of the Roharlak Concentration Camp, sunglasses gleaming on her face as she issued orders to the prisoners, as if they were little more than slaves.

"Lady Yeriel, an honor to meet you," Primien said, approaching with a slight bow of respect.

“Honor? Please. You were dragged here.”

In silence, Primien looked out over Roharlak. It wasn't her first visit, but here—where tens of thousands of Scarletborn were confined in a place no different from a desert—every return felt just as barren.

No, they’re dying. Or are they living? Primien thought.

“The prisoners are over there, Deputy Director,” Yeriel continued, pointing them out.

On the truck, the prisoners sat trembling, their hands and feet bound, and as Primien silently swept her eyes over them, she froze—her breath caught—spotting a face she recognized among them.

... Lucy.

"It’s your job to transport them in, Deputy Director. Here—your identification card and pass," Yeriel continued, handing everything meant for Primien.

Primien swallowed hard, then quickly cleared her throat, as if to cover any sign of what she’d just felt.

“Yes, but... what’s with the prisoner wearing the blindfold?”

However, Primien couldn’t help herself, so she made the mistake of letting her interest show.

"Oh—that one? Apparently she challenged Lord Deculein and ended up like that. But in exchange, her core will be spared," Yeriel replied, throwing a glance her way.

“Meaning her core will be spared...”

"In other words, her eyes were harvested in place of her core, Deputy Director. Oh, but adding that title is a bit too much. I’ll just drop the formality from now on."

Looks way younger than me. What a little bitch, Primien thought, glancing over Yeriel from head to toe.

"But, why? Do you know who that is?" Yeriel asked.

"Yes, her name was on the Ministry of Public Safety's wanted list."

“Hmm, who is it?”

“She is one of the pillars of Padahal.”

"Really? Then I suppose I’ll have to find a chance to harvest her core later. Our oh-so-noble lord was obsessed with the law of harvesting only one—either the eyes or the core."

Primien threw Yeriel a casual glare, pretending nothing was wrong, but when her eyes moved to Lucy, her face tightened in a way she couldn’t hide. On the other hand, Yeriel calmly watched the scenery, and in truth, no one alive could match her skill at keeping the depths of her heart hidden.

“Hmm? Deputy Director Primien... or is it assistant administrator now? Either way, what’s with that face?”

“... It’s nothing important. We had been chasing her for a long while."

Lucy—she was the direct descendant of the Great Elder, the one who had stood at the head of the Scarletborn.

***

Meanwhile, outside the windows of the timelessly beautiful Imperial Palace, petals floated on the spring breeze, while inside the Empress's chamber, Sophien listened as today’s reports arrived—news of Deculein, passed from the Intelligence Agency and from the Shade.

“How do you find it, Your Majesty?” Ahan asked, bowing low.

“It seems he’s managing his duties well,” Sophien replied with a chuckle, nodding in approval.

“... I’m relieved to hear it, Your Majesty.”

“It may not be such a relief after all,” Sophien said, sliding Deculein’s file into the drawer.

In truth, Sophien’s eyes barely skimmed the report, and she added nothing of her own—no thought, no judgment; only the words remained, taken as they were.

“... If Your Majesty finds no relief, then...”

“I couldn’t say.”

Could he be thinking something else? A damn fool's mercy, seeking to spare the Scarletborn? Sophien thought.

“Doesn’t matter either way."

If it were true, even Sophien wasn’t certain how she’d respond, as her hatred for the Scarletborn burned from a depth she could no longer name, darkening with each passing day. And so, she let herself skim only the surface, afraid of what lay beneath.

“Some depths are best left unsearched—so it ends with me.”

... The Empress of the Empire, Sophien, wanted to believe in Deculein.

"With Padahal cleared, that leaves three remaining, does it not?"

"Kelmeck has already been cleared, Your Majesty."

"Hmm? When did that happen?" Sophien said, furrowing her brow.

"It was reported by Professor Deculein ten minutes ago, Your Majesty," Ahan replied, presenting the crystal orb from her inner pocket.

"... He’s quick with his work. Like a man who's got something on his heels."

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Without a word, Sophien sank into the chair.

"The place has already been prepared, Your Majesty," Ahan said, observing the Empress’s mood.

“Place.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. All preparations for your event have been prepared."

Holding an event was one of the greatest powers granted to the Empress of the Empire, for with this authority alone, even the most incompetent ruler could summon every noble to the Imperial Palace—and gamble everything on a single, desperate attempt at restoration.

"Indeed," Sophien replied, nodding with a grave expression on her face.

At that event, Sophien would reveal everything about the crimes of the nobles and their houses—the ones who had assassinated her as a child, bartered the Empire’s pillars to the Altar to protect their own interests, and secretly protected and hidden the Scarletborn, exposing every disgrace and transgression without exception.

“I find myself curious.”

Sophien would bring it all to light—every secret, every shadow exposed to the open...

***

Officially, the Imperial Palace called the event a commemorative event, but the whole continent knew better—it was merely a demonstration of the Empress’s authority. Once the Empress declared an event, the continent’s most powerful nobles had no choice but to gather at the Imperial Palace and attend.

However, what the event would be—and how it would proceed—was entirely up to the Empress.

“... Wow. But am I really allowed at an event like this?” Epherene asked.

Which made Epherene’s presence here feel like an anomaly, as she wasn’t a noble—only a promising talent, still in the midst of becoming.

“Of course you can! You’re the famous protégé of Professor Deculein! And the Empress called you here herself?”

The one who spoke just now was Adrienne—and unlike Epherene, Adrienne belonged here, as she had the kind of talent worthy of this place.

"Her Majesty inviting you herself means you've caught her attention. So be happy, Leaf," Ihelm said.

“What did you say?”

Even though Ihelm was speaking perfectly reasonably, Epherene glared at him anyway, her eyes sweeping up and down his Imperial Mage uniform before she shook her head.

"But what are we supposed to do here?" Epherene asked.

“Even I don’t yet know,” I replied.

I found no explanation for it. Though we were indeed within the Imperial Palace, the space itself wasn’t any ordinary room. From the moment of our arrival, we were shown into a chamber blanketed in white—walls, floor, and ceiling all awash in pale sterility, with only the sparse furniture interrupting its oppressive sameness. It was a room fit for madness.

"Hmm... Is this some kind of magic test?" Epherene muttered, tapping lightly on the wall. "Hello? Anybody there?"

Plop—

At that moment, something dropped from the ceiling—and all at once, the world was swallowed by darkness.

“Seems like the event’s about to begin. Sit down, Leaf. And try not to make a scene,” Ihelm said, brushing the air as if shooing away a stray breeze.

Epherene plopped onto the sofa, puffing her cheeks in a pout.

I, on the other hand—though I didn’t show it—scanned the room in silence, a faint tension simmering beneath my skin.

... And, I wasn’t mistaken.

“A death variable,” I muttered.

“Sorry? What variable?”

The whole room was steeped in thick, deathly variables, threading their way through the space...