A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 31: Berhert (2)

Berhert was a village perched on the snowline, an independent state of a thousand people amidst the perpetual snow. It was divided into five gates—the First Gate, the Second Gate, the Third Gate, the Fourth Gate, and finally, the Elder Gate.

Each gate had its own entry and residence restrictions. While civilians, including knights and adventurers, could enter the First Gate, only mages were allowed beyond the Second Gate.

Sylvia had already spent two nights at a hotel in the Second Gate and found herself growing bored. She had anticipated something extraordinary, but apart from the occasional magical phenomena, there was little to captivate her. With time to spare before the Berhert meeting, her only option was to study.

"Intelligence," Sylvia muttered. Her father's warning about the train attack kept bothering her.

Was it truly intelligence, or was someone behind it all?

"Lady Sylvia, fourteen families have already arrived," Sirio said as he entered her room, savoring an ice cream made from Berhert's famous eternal snow.

"Which of the twelve traditional families have arrived?"

"Hmm? Oh, except for the Yukline and Rewind family, everyone else is here. There are also several assistants around your age. They might be a bit older, but would you like to meet them? Some are even from the kingdom. It could be a great opportunity to expand your horizons."

Yukline. That family worried her the most.

"No, I'm fine," Sylvia replied with a casual shake of her head. "I think I'll go for a walk."

"Oh, okay then. By the way, those assistants are having tea at a coffee shop called Snow and Rain~"

Ignoring Sirio's words, Sylvia left the hotel. She found a secluded spot and rummaged through her pocket, pulling out a blue stone. It was a mana stone, a reward for passing Deculein's test.

"... With this," Sylvia murmured as she closed her eyes and slowly released her mana.

The mana stone acted as a medium, drawing the surrounding energy into a specific outline. At first, the silhouette was barely visible. Sylvia then infused the empty form with color. Her red, blue, and green magic spread like multicolored smoke, breathing life into a flawless creature—a hawk.

This was her first attempt at creating a living creature. Sylvia felt momentarily dizzy but was impressed by her own talent. I'm a genius, she thought.

However, she couldn't afford to be careless. The hawk flapped its wings and blinked its eyes, but its true function was what mattered. Taking a deep breath, Sylvia closed her eyes. Although her own sight was blocked, a new landscape slowly came into view—the hawk's vision had transferred to her.

Pleased, Sylvia opened her eyes and said, "Fly and show me what you see."

The hawk nodded, as if understanding her command.

"Follow the train tracks and show me what's going on."

With a piercing cry, the hawk soared into the sky. Sylvia watched as it vanished into the swirling snowflakes, her gaze lingering for a long time.

***

Thirty minutes later, just after the express train passed the fourth station, the observers on the mountainside detonated the bombs attached to the train's undercarriage. It was the agreed place and time.

Boom—!

The explosion shattered the train's frame, causing it to derail and tumble down the cliff, expected to be reduced to nothing. At least, it should have. But the train hung suspended in midair. Three of its cars floated calmly, defying expectations. As anticipated.

They were momentarily surprised by this display of power, but they hadn't underestimated Deculein's magical prowess. After all, they had gathered here to deal with him. Killing him wasn't necessary; they only needed to stop him from attending the Berhert meeting.

At the assassin's signal, dozens of them leaped at the suspended train, shattering windows and swiftly infiltrating. In that instant, unknown metal objects sprang into action.

Ping, ping, ping, ping, ping—!

As if they had triggered a trap, needle-like shards scattered in all directions, piercing vital points. The steel spikes easily cut through flesh, reducing their numbers from dozens to just five in an instant. However, the remaining five were the core members.

Deculein sat calmly, watching them. His composure made the assassins hesitate. Though he appeared vulnerable, they knew better than to be deceived. The metal he controlled could react at any moment.

“Yawn...?”

At that moment, Allen awoke and looked at Deculein with sleepy eyes. Using a technique from his martial arts training, Deculein pressed a pressure point on Allen's neck, causing him to pass out again with a soft sigh, like a balloon slowly deflating.

Then Deculein felt something strange. Distracted, he glanced at his hand, feeling an unusual softness at his fingertips. He had expected to uncover one of Allen’s secrets, but another one caught him off guard. Deculein looked at the unconscious Allen, then out the train window. He saw Veron approaching from a distance. It seemed the situation was under control.

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"It's over," Deculein said.

At his command, the assassins retreated through the windows, laughing quietly to themselves. Deculein wanted to capture them but didn't have enough mana.

Deculein finally stood up, ready to leave the train. He addressed the man crawling away, "Roen, was it?"

Roen flinched and turned back, sweating profusely and replied, "Yes, sir."

"Take the boy with you."

"Yes, sir!" Roen replied. He hurriedly picked up the small Allen and headed for the exit, but paused when he realized the gap between the floating train and the ground was too wide. "Um... could you lower the train a little bit...?"

Deculein shook his head. He could keep the train, made of the same metal as his own properties, suspended despite its immense weight, but he couldn't move it any further.

"Figure it out yourself and get off."

At that moment, Veron jumped into the train.

"Oh, Sir Knight!" Roen exclaimed with relief.

Veron effortlessly picked up both Roen and Allen as if they were light objects and said, "I'm jumping down."

"What? Sir, I'm not ready—"

"We'll be fine."

Veron leaped to the ground. Roen screamed all the way down and fainted upon landing. Veron set them on the tracks and then jumped back into the train. He stood quietly, staring at Deculein.

Deculein initially assumed Veron had come to retrieve him, but then realized something crucial—Veron had walked all the way here. Deculein calmly summoned his cherished item as Veron surveyed the floating train.

"... The front of the train is already on its way to Berhert. Follow-up actions will begin soon," Veron said.

"I see," Deculein replied.

"Yes. Now, it's just the two of us."

Deculein glared at Veron, his previously contained killing intent rising. He questioned whether he had been too complacent or if Veron was simply too perfect. Either way, it was astonishing that Veron had managed to deceive Deculein's attribute-enhanced vision.

"Veron."

"I've saved all the other passengers," Veron said, assuring Deculein that there was no need to worry. "Now, it's your turn to die."

Amused by the twisted logic, Deculein let out a dry chuckle. He then said, "... Think carefully."

"I've thought about it hundreds of times. You must die."

There was no time to ask for a reason. Veron sprang forward, launching himself off the ground. Deculein's cherished shuriken intercepted him just in time, but Veron swiftly drew his sword, swinging it in a wide arc.

Clang—!

With a single sweeping motion, ten of Deculein's shuriken clattered to the ground. The deflected blades quickly rose again, circling Veron and launching repeated attacks.

Clang, clang—!

The sharp clash of metal and the shower of sparks filled the air. Veron's skillful swordsmanship left no openings; his defense was impeccable. The difference in their abilities was clear. Deculein would undoubtedly lose once his mana was exhausted.

Therefore, Deculein recalled his shuriken. Seizing the moment, Veron attacked with renewed ferocity. Deculein kept his eyes open. He simply lessened his Telekinesis. Better to fall than be struck by that blade.

"—Argh!"

Boom—!

As his Telekinesis waned, the fall resumed, and time seemed to rush forward. The derailed train plummeted, yielding to gravity's pull.

***

The train didn’t fall off the cliff entirely. Luckily, it got caught on a sharp edge, with only the VIP car impaled.

“... Ribs,” I muttered.

The impact from the fall broke a few bones, but that was it. Thanks to my Iron Man attribute and the added protection of my suit, my body healed quickly. A sudden surge of killing intent jolted me awake. Seeing the sharp glint of a blade approaching, I instinctively rolled to the side and called my shuriken to me. It darted up and struck Veron's shoulder.

Thunk—!

Surprisingly, his protective aura lessened the impact more than I expected.

"You're resilient," Veron muttered, raising his sword. As he slashed, his sword aura shot toward me.

I tried to use Telekinesis to interfere with his blade, but his skill deflected my efforts. Forced to backflip to gain distance, I saw him closing in fast. I dodged his slash and aimed a punch at his neck, but he was quicker.

Wham—!

He struck my side with his elbow, the impact sending me flying and sliding down the train's sloped surface. A gust of sword energy followed, cutting me from collarbone to hip. Blood trickled from my mouth. His attacks were outpacing my healing. As I gripped a seat for support and tried to stand, I glanced back and saw the sheer cliff edge looming behind me.

"You're annoyingly persistent," Veron said, advancing toward me.

I had to admit, he was much stronger than me at this moment. Even under optimal conditions, he would be a tough match. I had exhausted too much mana holding the train.

"... Are you trying to betray Yulie?" I asked, feeling my energy waning. Despite the danger, my voice remained steady, thanks to my unyielding nature, a blend of both my personality traits and attributes.

───────

[Resolute]

◆ Grade

Rare

◆ Description

Unyielding, never bending or breaking.

When activated in combat, mental fortitude remains constant until the battle ends, rendering almost all forms of mind-altering magic ineffective.

───────

It was one of Deculein's innate attributes, not something I had manually added. Even when facing death, I felt no tension. Despite being on the brink of danger, my heart maintained a steady rhythm.

"It's not betrayal. For my lord to live, you must die," Veron replied.

I laughed involuntarily and said, "Am I dead? Is Yulie dead? If neither of us is dead, no one needs to die."

He didn't answer and swung his sword. I used telekinesis to align the Wood Steel into a shield, blocking his path. With a simple horizontal slash, he shattered it, and through the scattering fragments, he charged like a ghost. There was no reasoning with him; he wasn't listening to anything I said. He was the embodiment of killing intent.

Veron raised his sword. For a moment, time seemed to slow down. As I watched the scattering sword light, I had a simple thought—how to survive, how not to die. That was all.

... But then, something strange happened. As Veron brought his sword down, the space around his wrist distorted. The air shimmered and wavered like a mirage on a hot day. Veron looked at his wrist in confusion.

Crack—!

Suddenly, his wrist twisted, and blood splattered. His hand was cleanly severed, and his sword dropped to the ground. Veron's eyes widened in pain.

I couldn't fully comprehend what had happened, but I couldn't miss the opportunity. I hurled my shuriken at his unsteady ankle.

“... Argh!”

He lost his balance and slipped off the train, carried away by the wind. Finally, an unexpected calm settled. But he wasn't dead yet; his killing intent still lingered. Gripping my side, I stood up. Leaning on a seat for support, I looked under the train.

The wind howled around us. There he was, clinging on with his left hand, a dagger embedded in the train's underside, keeping him from falling.

"... So, you had a hidden dagger all along," Veron said calmly, with a smile.

Anger welled up inside me, nearly overwhelming. But when I finally spoke, my voice was calm.

"Veron, do you think this situation is right?"

Veron shook his head, swaying in the biting wind. For someone who would die if he lost his grip, he seemed unnaturally composed.

"Of course, it's not right. But I remember all the wrongs you did to my lord," Veron said, his voice filled with anger. "You might not realize, but—"

"No, I do know," I interrupted.

I knew this deadly situation was the result of Deculein's many past misdeeds. Nothing could atone for what he had done. ... Even so.

"Veron, you are a sick man."

Veron laughed bitterly at my harsh words and replied, "Yes and no. A sick man can hope to recover, but I have no such hope. I’m not just sick; I’m already a dead man."

"I still remember the day my lord saved me, a worthless wretch destined to be trampled to death by horse hooves. I remember her smile. I remember everything about that day. The moment I took her hand and stood up, I died and was reborn," Veron said.

The rough currents of the cliff swirled around us as he slowly opened his eyes and smiled and said, "My life belongs entirely to her."

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly and said, "... You could’ve asked Yulie's opinion."

"My lord obviously would have refused."

At some point, a snowstorm had started raging. The dagger he had driven into the train was cracking, and it wouldn’t hold much longer.

"I know my feelings are a burden to my lord. My obsession alone is a heavy weight on her," Veron said, gripping the dagger tighter.

"But I had to kill you now. One day, you will become a threat and destroy her," Veron continued with certainty.

Looking into his eyes, I nodded and said, "... You might be right."

He could very well be right. I once saw a future through a simple monitor, where Deculein's twisted love drove Yulie to shatter her own beliefs and ultimately kill him with her own hands.

"But now, that’s no longer true."

I'm not Deculein, so things are different. I will change Deculein's future. I have no doubt that I can do it. And for that reason...

"... Trust me," I said, extending my hand to Veron. "I won't harm Yulie."

If you die like this, Yulie will be heartbroken. I want to give you a chance.

Veron remained silent. He simply extended his right arm, as if asking me to take it.

I didn't take his arm. Instead, an intense heat burned in my chest, like embers smoldering in the depths of my mind.

"...Ha, Veron," I said through gritted teeth. "Even if I save you, you still plan to kill me, don't you?"

Veron's murderous intent, visible in his eyes, intensified into a fierce, raging fire—Villain's Fate. It was an eternal flame that could never be extinguished, a primal hatred that couldn't be quenched or soothed. He was determined to kill me, no matter what. This was Deculein's karma, and also Veron's foolishness.

"Yes," Veron admitted honestly. "I've already lost one hand. With just one hand, I can't wield a sword effectively. I can't help her or stay by her side. I want to use my remaining hand to kill you."

I couldn't contain my anger and muttered, "... You foolish, ignorant man."

I used Telekinesis to bring my cherished Wood Steel shuriken into my hand. Gripping it tightly, I continued speaking.

"Yes, as you said, I will destroy Yulie..."

Boom—!

The train shook violently. Veron's murderous intent was relentless, and he was still determined to find a way to kill me. He twisted the dagger, trying to pull it off and push the train over the cliff.

"I will let her go."

This bastard isn't a knight. He's a brainwashed fanatic, blindly devoted to one person. A madman. A crazed lunatic.

"But your choice today..."

Drip, drip, drip.

Blood dripped from my hand as I gripped the shuriken. The droplets splattered on Veron's forehead.

"Will haunt her forever."

My mana was already exhausted. I had to kill Veron with my own hands.

"You... are a miserable wretch who abandoned your humanity."

I hurled the shuriken with all the strength in my wrist and arm.

Thwack—!

It flew like an arrow and pierced Veron's neck.

Now, only silence remained. Even the wind had stopped. It felt like all the sounds in the world had disappeared.

Veron quietly released his grip on the dagger. With that, his murderous intent vanished. The end of his intent marked his death.