A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 268: Magical Expo (2)

Beneath the full moon, in the library of the Imperial University, Yeriel was secretly studying magic. Hadecaine had started to weigh on her lately—so she’d slipped back to the Capital, if only for a little while.

The reason, of course, was the Altar’s attack on the Imperial Palace. Ever since, Yeriel had been living each day with her nerves stretched thin.

Of course, no one would dare ask Yukline to prove their bloodline, but that might not last forever, Yeriel thought.

“… Hoo. I’ll finish the rest later,” Yeriel muttered.

Around ten, Yeriel packed up her things and dragged her feet out onto the university field. As expected, several escort knights kept their watch in the shadows—given the state of things.

“Hmm?”

Yeriel was on her way back to Deculein’s mansion when she suddenly spotted a familiar group of mages—Epherene, Maho, Drent, and the other members of the Common Magic Research Club.

“How are we supposed to make this safe? Any ideas?”

“I mean, Ephie—why not just bolt it with something tough?”

“If we do that, it will be too heavy to lift off.”

“What if we just go for Optimization?”

“Too expensive for us.”

They were gathered in a circle, speaking as if they were discussing a broken machine at the center.

“What are you all up to?” Yeriel asked as she made her way over.

“Hmm? Oh~ Lady Yeriel,” Epherene replied, smiling as she waved with both hands.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me senior, not lady… But what exactly are you guys doing?” Yeriel said, her brow furrowing.

“It’s an aircraft,” Epherene said. “We’re preparing it for the expo.”

“Oh… That’s an aircraft?”

The aircraft was a wreck—too round to be called a plane, with no wings to speak of, and a propeller awkwardly mounted on top.

“We’re thinking of calling it Helicopterosio Sauron Mister Sparta.”

“Really? You guys will need a runway just to say that name. But why are you all wrestling with it yourselves? Shouldn’t you ask Deculein for help? He’s your supervising professor, isn’t he?”

Even though those words left her lips, Yeriel’s hand found her robe and gripped it tightly, though she tried not to show it.

I can’t get close to Deculein. I can’t pretend we’re close, and I can’t pretend to be kind. Publicly, everyone thinks we hate each other—and we have to stay that way. Because to him, I’m his most dangerous Achilles’ heel, Yeriel thought.

“I imagine that would be difficult. Professor Deculein seems rather busy these days,” Drent replied.

“Yeah. I showed it to the Professor, and he completely shut it down,” Epherene said. “We’re working on revisions now, but… it’s rough. Honestly, I don’t think he’s going to lend a hand.”

Epherene let out a sigh, her eyes falling to the stock certificate in her hand. But soon enough, a small smile returned to her face, with a little curve of her lips.

“Hehe… I’m gonna get rich.”

Leaving Epherene mumbling behind her, Yeriel gathered a little courage and looked up at the towering Mage Tower. Deculein’s office on the 77th floor was still glowing with light.

“Want me to talk to him?” Yeriel said.

The members of the Common Magic Research Club widened their eyes.

“Really?” Epherene asked.

“Yeah, we’re not that close, but I can talk to him more easily than you guys, and I’ve got something to say, anyway.”

“Oh! Thank you so much!”

Yeriel let out a chuckle, turned on her heel, and headed straight into the Mage Tower, stepping into the elevator without hesitation.

“Hoo…”

Ding—!

With a deep breath, Yeriel stepped onto the 77th floor—and she heard Deculein’s voice spilling out from the office.

“… If you’re referring to Yeriel.”

Mana thickened in the corridor like a drawn wire, and Yeriel instinctively cloaked herself and moved close to the room. Through the cracked door of the Head Professor’s office, a pale light shimmered and danced. And then she realized that there wasn’t just one presence in the room. Deculein wasn’t alone. Someone else was with him.

“She doesn’t even make the list when it comes to negotiation,” Deculein said.

***

About thirty minutes ago, in the Head Professor’s office, I managed to gain Comprehension of the core structure of Decalane’s Study of Art Magic—at least, to a degree. If I had to sum it up in one line—it was the kind of theory that only comes around once in a generation.

Decalane’s magic, built on engineering, science, biomedicine, and magical theory, made it possible to create living works of magical art—and its compatibility blended seamlessly well with other categories of magic. Most magic theory resembled pure mathematics—geometry, analysis, strict and abstract—but this magic was closer to a living, practical art.

“However…”

However, its biggest wall was clear—it relied on demonic energy as its medium. If the same level of output could be achieved with mana, it would become the ultimate dream for every mage in the Ductility category—their guiding light, their greatest aspiration.

“It isn’t impossible,” I muttered.

And now, I was closing in on the method that could make it a reality.

“But, Ductility…”

Even among mages, bias between categories was very real—and Ductility, unfortunately, was often treated as the lowest of them all.

Historically, before Decalane, mages who majored in Ductility weren’t even called mages—they were written off as mere technicians. It wasn’t until after his work that the field earned true recognition. Even now, among all Ethereal-ranked mages, Rogerio is the only one from the Ductility category.

There must be a reason, at least in part, why Decalane’s personality turned out so crooked, I thought,

“This will require a curriculum of its own.”

With the main quest approaching, there was no longer any point in keeping knowledge to myself. I would gather every talent I could find and make sure they grew fast before time ran out.

What disgrace could be greater than letting an entire continent fall to ruin out of greed?

Therefore…

Whooooosh—

At that moment, a breeze swept in through the window. But I had never opened it—and the uninvited guest who came in must have known that just as well as I did.

“… The Scarletborn of the desert,” I said, my eyes narrowed and a twist at my lips.

— Yes.

Elesol—an uninvited guest, second elder of the desert, and a woman with a hefty bounty on her head—raised her hands and spoke in sign language.

“What brings you here? Are you that eager to die, or is Ellie somewhere nearby?”

— You need not know that. I’ll be direct with my question—why did you break the promise you made to Roharlak?

“A promise? Are you referring to Roharlak’s gas chamber?”

— That’s correct.

Elesol’s face twisted as she signed with forceful motions—and in the next breath, a wave of mana released outward.

— If you don’t uphold the promise, then we’ll have no choice but to bring the truth about her to the Empress.

At that moment, my expression stiffened, and I said nothing—just straightened my posture.

“… If you’re referring to Yeriel,” I said, raising my chin and glaring down at the arrogant Scarletborn as if to drive my eyes straight through them.

— Yes.

“She doesn’t even make the list when it comes to negotiation.”

— What did you just—

The moment Elesol tried to continue her sign language, I caught her hand with Telekinesis—and she stood motionless like a statue.

“I’ll remind you again—if you have any hope left, it lies with her. I suggest you don’t even think of doing anything foolish or having such ideas.”

“Hup!”

Elesol let out a cry as she released her mana, and it slammed into my Telekinesis, shaking it loose.

As expected, she is not just any regular Scarletborn, I thought.

“For someone mute, you sure know how to make a proper sound,” I said.

— Do you believe the Empress would remain silent once the truth reaches her ears? Treat this negotiation with the seriousness it demands, Deculein. I came to you in person for one reason—we both understand that Yeriel is our only hope.

Elesol moved her fingers with controlled precision, forming each word in sign with clarity.

— Mutually. Assured. Destruction.

I remained silent.

— If we bring the truth to the Empress, we will die—and so will you. So at the very least, show that you’re willing to negotiate. You gave approval for the gas chamber’s installation far too easily.

I looked at Elesol in silence and sneer slipped out—it was too laughable a threat to warrant a real reaction.

— What, exactly, do you find so funny?

“Before she is Scarletborn, Yeriel is—and always will be—my younger sibling,” I said.

Elesol remained silent.

“If her life is threatened because of the likes of you, I swear upon the name of Yukline that I will see your bloodline erased from this world.”

Night spilled into the office, but Elesol didn’t so much as blink; her silence was deeper than the dark itself.

Elesol let out a sigh, her face unreadable from start to finish.

— Even if the Empress finds out, you won’t abandon her?

Elesol’s question was so insignificant that I didn’t need to waste a second thought on it.

“Even if it means costing me everything.”

Elesol closed her eyes in silence to think it over, then gave a nod with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

— Well, you’re someone we can trust, so we’ll share what we’ve found. Altar’s next plan has come to light—it will be in Yuren.

“Yuren?”

— We will be needing your help.

“Was that your purpose from the start—just to deliver information?” I said, my brow tightening.

— Of course not. I’m not foolish enough to gamble everything on a threat. Whether ally or enemy, it’s important to consider what someone hides in their heart.

“Hmph. You’re not entirely without sense. Then what is their purpose?”

— As you know, not far beneath Yuren lies the volcano of the Ashes—a dormant volcano, untouched by activity for three hundred years.

With just that one line, Elesol had given it away—I could see exactly what the Altar was after.

“A volcano.”

— That’s correct—they plan to trigger the volcano by artificial means. And when it happens, the Ashes—and Yuren along with it—will be at risk. The mountain itself will collapse.

Yuren was an essential base for the expedition to the Land of Destruction and the final act of the main quest. If it fell too soon, clearing the game would be completely out of the question.

“Fortunate timing indeed—the magic I’ve been studying happens to belong to the Ductility category,” I said.

— It is no volcano that can be held back by Ductility magic alone.

“Hmph. This world holds more mysteries than minds like yours could ever understand.”

Elesol furrowed her brow, then shook her head with a sigh in her eyes before raising her hands to sign.

— We request your help—and this time, we too will offer our strength. But before that… do you mind if I ask just one thing?

I nodded.

Elesol fell silent, her eyes locking onto mine, and then, with a tremble in her fingers, she signed a question.

— What is the difference between Yeriel and the Scarletborn? You despise the Scarletborn, yet you care for Yeriel. Can such a contradiction ever coexist?

“The answer is simple. Yeriel may be a Scarletborn, but the Scarletborn are not Yeriel. Or are you claiming you’re her now?” I replied without hesitation—there was nothing to consider.

Then a chill breeze brushed past again, and Elesol’s hair swayed, the only thing left moving.

A breath of a smile touched Elesol’s lips, and she gave a nod.

— I understand, Professor Deculein.

With that final sign, Elesol leapt through the open window and disappeared into the night.

“… But let there be no misunderstanding,” I muttered.

Of all the kinds born into this world, the Scarletborn were the most complicated of all.

“Leader of the Scarletborn.”

Whether they’re listening or not…

“I do not despise you all. If anything, I find you pitiful and pathetic.”

With that, I pushed myself up from my chair and pulled open the door to the office. Through the open window, moonlight spilled into the corridor, catching on droplets that gleamed on the floor—proof that someone had just been here.

“Tch.”

Of course, with the Iron Man’s heightened senses, I felt the subtle presence of someone nearby.

I paid it no mind, believing it to be one of Elesol’s guards.

“… It must have been Yeriel.”

I watched them in silence—those faint droplets of tears left behind.

***

… Three days later, in a VVIP cabin aboard the aircraft to Yuren, I stared at the formula inked on a sheet of magic paper, while also drafting a letter to Yeriel in my head—logic and language, split down the middle.

“Tch.”

Honestly, both were difficult—I didn’t know what to say to my younger sibling after the tears she shed that day, and I still had no idea how to solve this damned transformation formula.

“Professor, what’s that?” Epherene asked, glancing over from the seat beside me.

After watching it out of the corner of her eye since earlier, I thought.

“It’s a transformation formula,” I replied.

“Ahem… it looks pretty easy to me.”

“… Easy?”

How should I deal with this arrogant one? A flick to the forehead, or should I let my words do the stinging?

“Or is this supposed to be difficult?” Epherene asked.

To be fair, it didn’t look too complicated from the outside, as it barely took up two lines, and at a glance, it seemed like a simple math problem in its simplicity.

Transformation: A/(B+C) – B/(A+C) + C/(A+B) = 1

If I had to name it, there were only three independent equations in existence that reached this level of complexity.

“What exactly is it transforming? And what are A, B, and C supposed to be?”

“It’s a relational equation between demonic energy and mana. They’re similar, as they stem from the same origin, so a transformation formula this simple was the result.”

“Hmm~ let me see. I think I can solve this,” Epherene said as she took the paper from me. “Let’s see…”

I glanced at Epherene, then shook my head.

… Fifteen minutes later.

“It’s not coming together as easily as I thought, but it still looks easy for some reason,” Epherene said.

Epherene still had no idea what she was dealing with—foolish as ever—and I showed her half of the solution.

“Take this, this is my solution,” I said.

“Sorry? Oh, I think I can solve it too in a few more minutes—wait… Umm… W-What am I even looking at?” Epherene said, her eyes going wide the moment she saw the solution to the equation.

“They say two heads are better than one. Go ahead—take a look and give it some thought,” I said, my lips twisting into a smirk.

The equation took up just one line, yet the solution stretched across hundreds of pages and still wasn’t finished, and at this rate, even that wouldn’t be enough.

“It’s a transformation formula that incorporates not only magical spell structures but also mathematical principles, including functions, geometry, and beyond—all to postulate a theoretical state of mana neutrality called void mana.”

Epherene swallowed hard.

Did she honestly think the transmutation of demonic energy into mana would come so simple? I thought.

“What takes the form of simplicity often hides the deepest complexities,” I said.

“Oh… but are there theories even you can’t solve, Professor?”

“It’s not the theory, but the time it takes to prove it. I could sketch a rough transformation formula and test it by process of elimination—it might even be easier. But each confirmation takes three months,” I replied, shrugging at Epherene’s question.

“And how do you even test something like that?”

Epherene’s barrage of questions was exhausting—but then again, curiosity was a quality no mage could do without.

“You infuse mana, refined through this transformation formula, into a mana stone charged with demonic energy. Then you wait three months for the result to surface. Now, no more questions,” I replied, turning my eyes back to the equation.

The aircraft remained in flight, gliding through the clouds on its way to Yuren.

However…

Tap, tap—

Epherene tapped my shoulder again.

“Epherene, are you hoping to try skydiving today? I might make that happen,” I said, staring directly at her.

“Sorry? Oh—no, not that. But this,” Epherene said, pulling out her pocket watch. “There’s one more use for it I haven’t shown you yet. Here, take a look.”

Epherene placed a crumb of snack on the watch, released her mana into it—and in the next instant, the hands of the pocket watch spun wildly in a blur.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock—

Epherene kept her eyes closed, and a smile curled on my lips.

Perhaps thirty seconds passed…

“… Whew! What do you think?” Epherene said, holding up the snack with gleaming pride.

I watched as Epherene held up the snack that had molded in less than thirty seconds—mold blooming like bruises, the crust collapsing into dust—a clear effect of time travel.

“How far into the future is this?” I inquired.

“Exactly three months. This feels like nothing anymore,” Epherene replied, arms crossed and chin tilted high with pride.

For perhaps the first time, I found Epherene likable.

“… That’s the first useful thing you’ve done in ages.” I said.

“Hehehe!”

At that moment, the paper holding the transformation formula slipped from my seat, rustling as it slid beneath, and just like that, the magic paper was gone without a trace—clearly, some sort of spell at work.

“Oh?! What was that?!” Epherene said, the first to react. “No!”

While I remained perfectly calm, Epherene jumped up from her seat, shouting as if the sky were falling.

“Thief! Hey—there’s a thief! Over here, somebody help! I’m telling you, there’s a thieeeeeeeeeeef!”

There were only thirty in the VVIP cabin, and all of them turned toward us with furrowed brows the moment Epherene screamed, but I didn’t bother explaining, unconcerned whether it was a thief or something else.

“Please remain calm, miss. There is no possibility of theft in this VVIP cabin,” replied one of the cabin crew.

“What do you mean there’s no theft?! They just used a spell to take it right in front of us! Oh, dang it! I never learned Reverse Tracking since it’s part of the Harmony category. What should we do? Professor, can you do it?”

“… Epherene, close your mouth.” I said.

After all, the transformation formula itself wasn’t anything special.

Even with the formula and its solution in hand, they’ll never reach the answer—

“No, you don’t understand—someone just stole Professor Deculein’s magic theory! It hasn’t even been announced yet, and someone snatched the whole thing!”

“I beg your pardon—is that true?!” asked one of the cabin crew, turning to me with their face pale with shock.

I said nothing, but imagining what headline would grace the Empire’s papers tomorrow morning.

Breaking News! : Theft of Professor Deculein’s New Magic Theory Reported

“We’re talking one hundred million elne—no, wait, what’s one hundred million? It’s worth one billion elne!”

“That can’t be true!”

Breaking News!!! : Theft of Professor Deculein’s New Magic Theory Reported, Worth One Billion Elne!

And then, an alarm began to blare throughout the aircraft.

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