A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 164: Wall of the Northern Region (2)

A scholar, seated at a narrow desk, could envision entire continents stretching before them. Often referred to as a dreamer, a skeptic, or even a philosopher, they sat in quiet solitude, drawing insights from the world beyond their walls.

With a contemplative mindset, they charted unseen currents of change and crafted theories that reached far beyond the limits of their confined view.

However, the scholars’ words, born of pure thought and calculation without the grounding of real experience, were rarely given credence. Often dismissed as fanciful and hopelessly detached from reality, their theories languished in obscurity.

Even if they brushed close to the truth, they struggled to find acceptance across the Empire. Forecasting the future with only numbers and words drew sharp criticism, regarded by many as nothing more than a shimmering mirage cloaked in the guise of wisdom.

“With the deepest respect, Your Majesty, I must express that this theory lacks a solid foundation for complete confidence. Professor Deculein is, of course, a prominent figure in the Magical Realm, yet this study reaches beyond the bounds of magic. Even the esteemed scholars of the Floating Island have chosen not to lend their endorsement to his findings.”

It was hardly a coincidence that such intense debate flared within the grand hall of the Imperial Palace. Deculein, a scholar at heart rather than a mage, had crafted a unique theory and intricate calculations to foresee the scale of the impending monster wave.

“Of course, Your Majesty, we would have accepted a typical warning. However, Professor Deculein’s prediction seems unduly pessimistic and rather provocative. A wave fifteen times the scale of the one nineteen years ago?”

The monster wave from nineteen years past remained a disaster recorded even in textbooks. Many still bore the scars of that day, and countless villages in the Northern Region, unable to recover from the astronomical losses of lives and property, quietly slipped into the shadows of history.

“At its core, it is nothing more than the fantasies of a doomsayer. Were it not for Deculein’s reputation, no one would have given it a second glance, nor would this august grand hall be swayed by such baseless claims.”

With that, Romelock, the Minister of State, concluded his address.

The ministers’ reactions varied, but most chose not to speak up. Deculein’s warning—that this incident could be at least fifteen times more devastating than the disaster of nineteen years ago—was hard to believe. Even so, they withheld their objections out of deference to the Yukline family’s stature.

From her seat of honor, Empress Sophien asked, “So, does the Minister of State doubt this prediction?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Romelock replied.

“Is there no one present to challenge Romelock’s statement?”

No one dared to speak. Instead, the faction standing behind Romelock raised their voices, declaring, “We hold that Minister Romelock speaks rightly, Your Majesty.”

The other ministers held their silence, each hesitant to entangle themselves in the matter.

With the weight of a thousand unspoken judgments, Sophien said, “… Your insights are so limited that they may as well be nonexistent. Enough! I will turn to the true expert.”

The Imperial Palace brought in a scholar from the university to validate Deculein’s theory.

“Your Majesty, I am Professor Ruten from the Mathematics Department of Imperial University. It is my greatest honor to stand in your presence—”

“Explain it to them. I have no interest in hearing it myself.”

Sophien had already accepted the reality of the collision value, recognizing it as valid. To her, Deculein’s theory was flawless. However, she understood the ministers’ hesitation; even the strongest forecast, in the end, was still simply a conjecture.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Professor Deculein’s theory of the collision value requires intricate calculations. I have prepared a structured outline in advance…” Ruten began, motioning toward the chalkboard he had arranged to aid their understanding.

“This collision value, when examined closely, reveals itself to be a meticulously crafted concept. Professor Deculein appears to have developed it specifically to mitigate uncertainties in forecasting monster waves. What stands out most is his exclusion of any reliance on luck or randomness, achieving a level of mathematical precision that is rarely measured.”

The ministers struggled to follow the explanations, their expressions blank with confusion. They sat quietly, breaking the silence only with the occasional uncomfortable sound of clearing their throats.

“Just get to the point—the conclusion only,” Romelock interjected, his patience clearly at its limit.

Ruten nodded and replied, “Ah, yes, Minister. Professor Deculein’s theory has gained considerable favor within academic circles. Of course, other factors will need to be considered, but—”

“Are you telling me that a wave of ruin, one far beyond the devastation of nineteen years ago, is on the horizon?”

“Umm… I cannot be entirely certain. To establish accuracy, we would need to perform a direct analysis of the soil and atmospheric conditions in the Northern Region—”

“If the samples used in this study were flawed, then the conclusions would be inherently flawed as well, no matter how solid the theory,”Romelock interjected, his confidence unshaken.

Then he continued, “Clearly, Deculein must have mishandled his sampling. Moreover, according to the widely accepted Luhaman Theory, this year’s forecast should only indicate twice the typical levels—nothing more, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Minister, that is correct. Based on the Luhaman Theory, this monster wave’s threat level is projected to be approximately 1.87 times greater than last year’s.”

Luhaman, who passed away thirty-three years ago, was the pioneering scholar who designed the first theoretical model to predict the rise of monster waves.

Romelock bowed once more before Sophien and said, “Your Majesty, Luhaman’s theory has served us well for seventeen years. Let what is tried and tested remain undisturbed. There is no need to waste the Empire’s resources on the speculative ideas of Deculein—a mere mage, not even a true scholar.”

In unison, the ministers bowed deeply and pleaded, “Your Majesty, we humbly implore your gracious understanding—!”

Sophien surveyed their faces with the sharpness of a hawk’s eye and asked, “If Deculein is proven right, will you all be able to shoulder the weight of that consequence?”

“… Your Majesty, this matter extends beyond any personal interests—”

“Deculein has sworn to take full responsibility. He’s put his own neck on the line for this.”

All they do is spew hollow words, never once willing to shoulder their weight. If they’re so keen to let their tongues dance unchecked, the least they could do is have the backbone to stand by what they say, Sophien thought.

“I will see that our defenses are fortified. From this day forward, the Imperial Palace will hold exclusive control over all military provisions within the capital. Send Deculein’s report to the borderlands with clear orders to prepare,” Sophien declared.

“… Ah,” Romelock murmured, then fell silent, pressing his lips tightly together.

Sophien’s decisions had never once been reversed, and Romelock took quiet satisfaction in that fact. If Deculein was mistaken—and he almost certainly was—this offered the perfect pretext to shatter the Yukline family’s influence. In that light, it was a risk well worth taking.

“This concludes today’s council in the Grand Hall. See that each of you makes your own preparations for the coming winter,” Sophien said.

“Yes, Your Majesty. We remain deeply honored by your favor…”

Turning a deaf ear to their booming praises, Sophien rose from her seat, while Romelock and the other officials slipped away to confer quietly among themselves.

“It seems Deculein, that scoundrel, has shed his reckless past only to weave himself into these strange, misguided tapestries of ambition,” one of the officials said.

“All the better. It seems he’s determined to ruin the very reputation he worked so hard to build,” Romelock replied.

“Fifteen times the scale of nineteen years ago? One might think he has become lost in too much theatricality himself. We’ve heard a rumor that he has even begun sponsoring a few of those performances lately.”

Romelock, draped in a shroud of utter disdain, stroked his beard as if savoring the taste of contempt and said, “Hmph. That brute sponsoring the theatrics? His family is nothing more than a pack of hunters—a despicable lineage with blood stained on their hands.”

“Hahahaha! Yes, you are absolutely right, Minister!”

Lately, Deculein had become Empress Sophien’s most trusted and influential ally—a figure who wielded power that bolstered her reign.

“A demon hunter? Could he really be any different from a common boar hunter dressed in finer clothing?” one of the officials said.

“Exactly my point. A family whose legacy amounts to little more than hunting boars commands little respect. In contrast, the Yukline family, celebrated for their somewhat more refined pursuit of hunting, is still held in high regard for something so insignificant.”

“Hahahahaha! Minister Romelock, your wit flows like an endless river—ever-refreshing and full of depth!”

The religious faction’s animosity toward Yukline brewed like a fierce storm, their whispered slanders drifting like dark clouds through the night, still heavy in the air as dawn lingered on the horizon.

***

“Honestly, I really don’t think anyone’s going to buy this!”

Returning to the Mage Tower, I presented my theory to Adrienne. While it was a definitive result of my recent business trip to the Northern Region, the revelation was so startling that most regarded it with nothing but doubt.

“Is that so?” I asked.

“Yes,” the Chairwoman said, frowning as she skimmed through the report. “I am currently studying Professor Deculein’s collision value, but still, right here!”

The Chairwoman pointed to a section in the report—the conclusion, of course. It was the part forecasting a wave of devastation fifteen times greater than that of nineteen years past.

“Isn’t this a bit extreme?! You were there about nineteen years ago too, weren’t you, Professor Deculein?”

I wasn’t there at that time. Nineteen years ago, there was only a teenage Deculein.

“Most likely, yes, he would have been there,” I replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Either way, I just can’t bring myself to believe it~!”

“Trust me, Chairwoman; your help will be indispensable this winter.”

With Adrienne’s destruction magic, she could single-handedly defend an entire region. This wasn’t a metaphor or exaggeration—she could, in the truest sense, hold the line entirely on her own.

“Hmm~ well! Any chance to let loose with my magic is welcome—I get to blow off some steam! Though it seems the border regions aren’t exactly thrilled,” Adrienne remarked, handing over a document.

It was a review request form sent directly by the three Margraves of the Northern Region—Freyden, Dharman, and Delek.

“If you don’t retract this theory, Professor, they’ll end up pouring a fortune into their defenses! And if the monster wave turns out to be less than expected? Their territories would face heavy losses, wouldn’t they?!”

“I understand. However, I will not retract my position,” I stated.

“Wow! How stubborn!” Adrienne exclaimed, her eyes widening as she laughed softly and slapped her hands down on the table. “Well, that settles it, isn’t it! That means we’ll have to go and support the Northern Region, since you are part of our Mage Tower, Professor Deculein!”

“Yes, Chairwoman.”

“Here you go! It’s the deployment list!” Adrienne said, handing me the document, each assignment boldly marked with stars to indicate its difficulty.

“Is this your own work?”

“Yes! I took the initiative to make it since I’ll need to submit a fire support request form soon anyway. The more stars, the harder the deployment!”

Almost instinctively, my eyes settled on the very first line of the list.

Rekordak ★★★★★★

You might not make it back alive! Be extra careful—seriously, take every precaution!

Rekordak—a single name surfaced in my mind as I read about that place.

“Rekordak will push endurance to its very limits,” I murmured.

Rekordak, entrenched at the very front lines, would likely be riddled with death variables. For Yulie, overcoming it alone could prove insurmountable.

“Why don’t you go lend a hand yourself, Professor Deculein!” Adrienne chimed in.

I remained silent.

“Oh, that’s right! I heard that Knight Yulie is stationed at Rekordak as well!”

Yulie remained stationed at Rekordak, a reality that created a delicate yet unbreakable tension within me. Although I sought to distance myself from her, the tempest gathering over the Northern Region was a force she could never withstand alone—a maelstrom poised to consume her entirely.

“Think of everything you all have been through!” Adrienne exclaimed.

I shook my head.

“See? Even you seem hesitant to go, Professor Deculein!”

“It isn’t that I’m unwilling to go,” I said.

“Hmph! As if!”

“It would be most apt if you were to insist on it to me, Chairwoman.”

“… What?!” Adrienne blinked, her wide eyes rounding in surprise like a startled rabbit.

“As one who seeks the position of Chairman, I would probably consider any task—provided, of course, that it does not compromise my dignity.”

Understanding what I meant, Adrienne’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth rounded in surprise as she said, “… And besides, Professor Deculein, you did say you’d stand by your findings. So, going to the frontlines doesn’t seem so bad, right?”

“That may well be the case.”

“Alright! If that is the case, I will proceed to assign Professor Deculein to the Rekordak deployment!”

“Is that so?”

“That’s right! This will be the final trial for the Chairman’s position! In two months, Deculein and Ihelm will be on their way to Rekordak—to join up with Knight Yulie!”

“It seems inevitable,” I said, nodding expressionlessly.

Adrienne’s eyebrows arched like crescent moons, glinting with a knowing light, as a soft murmur of amusement danced upon her lips.

“Then, if you’ll excuse me, Chairwoman, I will take my leave.”

“Alright then, off you go!”

***

… Yeriel heavily fortified the Roharlak region, which bordered the unexplored regions of Hadecaine. She reinforced the walls, constructed watchtowers, built gates and fortresses, gathered new troops, and began combat training for the mages of her domain—all based on her trust in Deculein’s warning.

“Ugh, it’s so annoying. Why did he have to spread such outrageous and absurd theories to the central?” Yeriel murmured.

She could hardly bring herself to believe it; the idea challenged reason. A prediction of a monster wave fifteen times the scale of the disaster nineteen years ago felt almost mad. To her, it seemed no different from prophesying the fall of the entire continent.

“If our family doesn’t back this, our reputation will be in shambles, so I don’t have a choice here—! This is so annoying—!” Yeriel muttered, punching the car seat, her thoughts shrouded in a thick fog.

Doubt weighed heavily upon her. Covering the initial expenses had already siphoned three hundred million elne, and as winter pressed on, costs would rise exponentially. Soon, every elne she had painstakingly gathered through Marik’s underground passage seemed destined to scatter like ash in the wind.

“We’ve arrived, Lady Yeriel.”

Yeriel glanced out the window at the Roharlak Concentration Camp and fortress, which were still undergoing reinforcement.

“Should we proceed with the deployment as scheduled?” the butler asked.

At Roharlak, she planned to station not only the prisoners but also tens of thousands of troops from the territory—a combined force of soldiers and inmates, all set to face the monster wave together. Whether they could effectively cooperate remained uncertain; however, it was the approach Deculein had advised.

“Yes, proceed as planned,” Yeriel said.

Whether it was a wise choice or a reckless one, she could not say. For now, Hadecaine’s wealth held strong; even if every profit from Marik vanished, they would still break even. Given that nearly half of any savings would be swallowed by taxes, pouring funds into fortifications seemed to be the better course of action.

“If this prediction turns out to be false, we’re bound to look like complete idiots, right?”

“… Yes, Lady Yeriel.”

“And they might demand compensation from all those territories that invested funds into their defenses based on our warning as well.”

“They might, in good conscience, demand it; however, we are under no legal obligation to comply.”

“I know,” Yeriel replied, then paused, suddenly overtaken by a wave of dizziness. “What a mess… Am I really supposed to be hoping for the worst this winter or what…?”

Even so, Deculein would not have confidently made such a prediction without a conviction deeply anchored in the bedrock of his certainty.

“Lady Yeriel, there is still time to retract the statement,” the butler advised.

Yeriel glanced into the rearview mirror, shook her head slightly, and replied, “No. I believe in him. No—I need to believe in him.”

My fate is a strange one—to be no Yukline by blood, yet to stand here, counted as family by my brother.

“IBMB,” Yeriel murmured.

“Pardon?”

“It’s shorthand for ‘I believe my brother.’ It’s a trend among the younger crowd these days.”

The butler didn’t respond.

“He’s my brother, after all, and I believe in him,” Yeriel said.

“… Ahem,” the butler coughed, saying nothing. But Yeriel could clearly see the faint smile playing on his lips.

~

“Sigh… It is just as I expected.”

Yulie had appealed to Freyden’s inner fortress for reinforcements, her request specifically directed to Zeit. However, the response that came back was as icy as the winter winds, rigid and immovable.

Our resources are limited. Hold your position for as long as feasible, and withdraw if circumstances necessitate.

It was an irresponsible order, a message that danced on the edge of cruelty. Or perhaps it was simply a dismissal of Deculein’s findings, cast aside like an autumn leaf in the wind. Whatever their reasoning, Yulie had no intention of abandoning this front line.

“Knight Yulie…?” Reylie called, her voice woven with threads of concern.

Yulie turned to her with a hardened expression and said, “… Just across the stream, there’s a small village, home to thirty families. Among them live four or five children and six elders.”

In the Northernmost Region, many lives were tethered to Rekordak; indeed, Rekordak’s purpose lay in this fragile coexistence. It granted condemned prisoners a slim chance at redemption—a place where they might pour their final breaths into something larger than themselves, a final purpose, however bleak, that carried a hint of meaning.

“Beyond the forest lies another village, home to fifty families. Most of the men set out to hunt boar but met with tigers instead. Now, only the children, women, and elderly are left.”

Yulie remembered the faces of the villagers, each an unspoken testament to her duty as a knight, leaving a mark on her heart that would never fade.

“They’ll have no refuge if Rekordak falls—no place to turn to.”

In the villages of the Northern Region, those who struggled to survive clung to what they called their homeland, their last refuge. Even if they had tried to escape, they would have been struck from all sides and worn down bit by bit until there was nothing left to hold onto.

Reylie exhaled a heavy sigh and replied, “Yes, I know… which leaves us with only two choices—to hope Deculein’s report is mistaken or to fight to the bitter end.”

Yulie looked at Reylie in response to her words, and Reylie returned the glance with a small smile. In that moment, as the two shared a quiet sense of camaraderie and purpose…

Knock, knock—

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Yulie said.

“Yes, Knight Yulie,” the Rekordak officer replied as he stepped in, carrying a confidential letter sealed with wax. “A message has arrived for you; it appears to be a notice regarding reinforcements.”

Yulie nodded slightly and broke the seal on the envelope.

Mage Fire Support: Rekordak

The section caught her eye, widening it in surprise. In the Northern Region, mages had been an exceptionally rare and precious resource. However…

Deculein Division.

Ihelm Division.

The deployment of these two individuals to Rekordak appears to be part of the Chairman selection process.

The name Deculein on that list shimmered like winter’s breath, each letter carved in frost, radiating a piercing clarity that cut through the stillness and chilled her heart.