A Villain's Will to Survive - Chapter 347: Destruction (2)
Chapter 347: Destruction (2)
“Wow…”
Within the Land of Destruction’s lighthouse corridor, where mana swirled, a youthful exclamation of admiration echoed.
“How amazing…” Leo muttered.
“I know,” Carlos replied.
The two muttering children, Leo and Carlos, were ten-year-old adventurers from the archipelago and members of the Red Garnet Adventure Team who were exploring various parts of the lighthouse.
“Right?”
The Altar’s priests pursued them as intruders, yet the truth was they had merely entered through an open window that seemed to invite them inside, and Ria had never, in the first place, instructed them to go into the lighthouse.
“Yeah, it is.”
Upon entering the lighthouse, even Carlos’s eyes sparkled as he took in the interior made solely of Snowflower Stone, featuring remarkably wondrous ceilings, floors, and walls all a spotless blue, while white lamps and decorations illuminated the darkness, filling this blue and white space with Deculein’s aura.
“… Wow. Carlos, Carlos, look at this.”
Their mission was to scout, but Leo kept peering around, led not by curiosity but by an animalistic instinct guiding him.
“What now?” Carlos said.
However, Leo was as intuitive and instinctual as he was foolish, and therefore Carlos thought that by following Leo, there might just be something important there.
“There, there, follow me.”
Leo ran first, and Carlos followed him.
“Here.”
Leo stopped before a certain door and peered through the narrow opening.
“Carlos, look here. There are many paintings.”
“What painting—”
The moment Carlos was about to say something, the door creaked open first, as if it had been waiting for them, inviting them inside.
“Oh, it opened.”
A shiver ran down Carlos’s spine, but Leo, without a shred of hesitation, stepped inside first and Carlos, surprised, grabbed Leo’s shoulder.
“Hey, don’t move without thinking.”
“Look at this, Carlos,” Leo said, pointing to the numerous paintings hung upon the wall.
Carlos initially scanned his surroundings but saw no immediate threat and soon looked at the same place as Leo.
“Look at the paintings.”
They were paintings—specifically a series of landscapes.
“… It looks like people trapped by Deculein,” Carlos replied, his eyes widening.
As Leo had said, the paintings contained people, houses, land, and many individuals, and Leo and Carlos slowly walked, admiring them as if in an art gallery—no, rather, utterly overwhelmed like children overwhelmed by something far more profound.
“Hmm?”
But then, among those numerous paintings, something rather anomalous was found.
“… What is this?” Carlos said, his brow subtly furrowing.
Leo’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
More to the point…
“Deculein?”
It was because a portrait of Deculein—this era’s enemy, the villain who would bring about the continent’s destruction—was unexpectedly hanging on one side of the wall.
— What are you guys doing?!
At that moment, their ears were pierced by a voice flowing from the crystal orb—it was Ria.
— Get out of there! You’re not supposed to enter there yet! I mean, why did you guys just walk in—
“Ria, this place is amazing,” Leo interrupted, showing the image of the gallery on his crystal orb. “It looks like people are trapped in here.”
— … Sigh.
With a sigh, Ria spoke her words.
— You did well to find that place. Wait there for now. I will come to that place too…
Snap—
The communication was severed, not by their own choice, as a large finger descended from above snatching away Leo’s and Carlos’s crystal orb.
“… Oh?”
“Hmm?”
Leo and Carlos, the two children, innocently tilted their heads, looking upward, and a heavy shadow fell over them.
“Well, well, there were these kids in this place.”
In contrast to the man grinning down at the two children, the faces of Carlos and Leo grew a little anxious.
“Greetings, I am Jaelon.”
Even young Leo and Carlos knew Jaelon well, a knight once called the Mountaineer of the continent who had cooperated with the Altar and was imprisoned in the Imperial Palace’s underground, and they also knew of his strength because his renown as second only to Zeit was widespread.
“Sirio, how should we deal with these ones?” Jaelon asked, his eyes glancing toward an unknown corner.
On one wall of the gallery, the blond knight Sirio of Iliade leaned casually, swept his hair back with a flourish, and his lustrous long hair shimmered down.
“What should we do with them?” Sirio asked someone else.
In the darkness of this space stood someone, and Carlos and Leo looked back at him—a man with eyes like a bird of prey and a pale, wasted appearance, skin stretched over bone like a skeleton, a man who had lost all his old ambitions, whose name was…
“Glitheon,” Sirio continued.
***
“I get it! I get it! I finally got it! I’ve got it—really! Am I not a genius?” Louina shouted, repeatedly exclaiming her eureka moment.
“I mean, what did you understand then?!” Yeriel yelled, gripping the car’s steering wheel in frustration over her lack of understanding of Louina’s eureka.
Vrooom—!
In the dark of night, Yukline’s sedan drove along the forest road, surrounded by the noise it made.
“Oh, my heart is pounding. Press the pedal quickly!”
“I mean, I am pressing it! What did you understand then?!”
“Press it! Press it!”
“Oh, come on!”
Vrooooooooom—!
The sedan advanced furiously, navigating through the steep and rough mountain slopes more smoothly than any steed, its nimbleness and speed owing to the Midas Touch imbued in Deculein’s personal vehicle.
“It won’t take long to get there, will it?!” Louina asked.
“It will take but a day,” Yeriel replied, nodding her head.
A single day was enough to reach the Land of Destruction, and the performance of this vehicle and the Midas Touch was impeccably smooth that Yeriel found herself marveling even while driving, feeling a renewed sense of annoyance toward Deculein.
To think, he kept such a fine vehicle all to himself until now… Therefore, we must share it from now on and take turns. One day I will ride, another day you, and so on until we are old and gray… Yeriel thought.
“Then make good speed!”
“I mean, more importantly, what exactly did you understand?”
“I understand this spell,” Louina said, her voice crackling with barely contained excitement. “I know what he plans to do!”
“… And?” Yeriel asked, attempting to calm her pounding heart.
Louina frantically nodded, trying hard not to lose any of the analyses that crowded her thoughts.
“He is not a villain.”
At that moment, Yeriel pressed the accelerator.
Vrooooom—!
The sedan accelerated to over sixty miles per hour, but at one point, the road vanished, and a forest path appeared, with all manner of obstacles blocking their way.
However, it mattered not, as Yeriel surrounded the sedan with a barrier and crashed directly through.
Thus, plowing through trees and brushes like a bulldozer…
“However, there is one issue,” Louina said, her expression hardening with seriousness.
“What is it?” Yeriel asked.
“The mages understand that what we think, others will eventually think as well, and it is merely a matter of time.”
Yeriel remained silent.
“It would be fortunate if I were the only one to realize this… but what if,” Louina continued, turning to Yeriel, who remained focused on her driving while facing forward. “If a mage who despises Deculein had understood it first…”
“For instance?” Yeriel asked.
“A man like Glitheon,” Louina replied, her voice low after a moment of brief contemplation.
***
… Glitheon was exploring Quay’s gallery, taking in the landscape of each painting and twisting his lips in what seemed like futility.
“Was Iliaide’s ambition for naught but this?” Glitheon muttered.
Sylvia, Glitheon’s daughter, was confined within the canvas, and the child, Iliade’s last hope, was wasting her talent playing a mere caretaker on the outer edge of the world, tending to peasants, commoners, and other utterly insignificant humans, who held no necessity for the continent…
“Is this, too, Deculein’s doing?”
With empty pupils, a withered and cracked voice, and trembling fingertips, Glitheon wished for Deculein to become Sylvia’s kindling, and he hoped Sylvia would burn Deculein to become the greatest mage—that was their agreement.
I, who was responsible for the deaths of his mother and father, and he for that of Sylvia’s mother… Glitheon thought.
“That devious bastard…”
However, Sylvia was now being exploited by Deculein, her talent—that radiant power meant to illuminate the world with Iliade’s radiance—being squandered for someone as insignificant as Deculein.
“What should we do with those two children, Glitheon?” Sirio asked.
Leo and Carlos, now thoroughly on guard, bristled with mana, and Jaelon watched them with affectionate eyes, as one might regard a hedgehog.
“Will you follow my will?” Glitheon replied, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Yes, haha, I am a knight of Iliade, am I not? And, Glitheon, you did save me from the Imperial Palace’s prison. Of course, I will comply.”
Glitheon stared at Sirio, saying nothing.
“You serve the Altar, do you not?” Glitheon inquired as if pausing to gather his breath.
“… Yes, well.”
“Then deliver word to the Altar’s priests that Deculein seeks to betray the Altar,” Glitheon said, drawing a bound book from within his robe—the Analysis Report on Deculein’s Lighthouse, penned by his own hand.
Then Glitheon continued, “My heart, shattered into fragments, and from delving into the emptiness of losing all, I began to understand. Naturally, the true intent of Deculein, who created the lighthouse, became clear.”
Glitheon’s voice faintly echoed, and he interpreted and analyzed Deculein’s lighthouse through his own strength, finally discerning his true purpose with complete clarity.
“Is that so?” Sirio replied, accepting the analysis but leaving it unread.
As a knight, I wouldn’t understand what this is, even if I looked, Sirio thought.
“What manner of betrayal is it?”
“… It is simple. The God of the Altar, it is said, seeks to destroy not only this continent but its very souls, does it not?” Glitheon said.
“Yes, it is a complete restoration,” Sirio replied.
“Deculein does not conform to that and he seeks to preserve the humanity within this continent,” Glitheon said, twisting his lips.
Because of that, my daughter is being wasted—for such worthless pursuits… Glitheon muttered, clenching both his fists.
“Notwithstanding this, Deculein claims to sacrifice himself, invoking a rather ridiculous cause. Of course, Yukline and Iliade have always been fundamentally opposed.”
Iliade and Yukline were like oil and water, magic houses that could never mix and were ultimately destined for conflict.
“Sirio, I would prefer that there be utter destruction,” Glitheon continued, turning to Sirio.
Sirio nodded without a word.
“Deculein’s ignoble cause—I will crush it beneath my heel, and I will not permit his desires to come to pass.”
“… Hmm.”
For Sirio, a confidant of the Altar, it was rather fortunate, though he was curious and therefore asked.
“Is it merely because Sylvia did not become an Archmage?” Sirio asked.
“Sirio, Iliade’s will is ambition, and ambition is naught but a flame,” Glitheon replied, a scoffing laugh escaping him as he shook his head.
Glitheon, having momentarily stopped speaking, let out a sigh, and Sirio, watching him release such an empty sigh from his hollowed body, felt that Iliade’s Glitheon had already been reduced to ashes from having burned too intensely.
“While my ambition, Glitheon’s, has crumbled to dust, Sylvia held such ambition—an ambition to become an Archmage… she had both the drive and the talent to achieve her House’s ultimate desire,” Glitheon continued, gritting his teeth and gathering a flame in his palm. “But that ambition, that very ambition that might have blazed like the sun, is now…”
Glitheon looked around the gallery filled with paintings while Epherene, by her own power alone, held the Floating Island, having already become an archmage, and Sylvia remained confined within the canvas, wasting herself by preserving humans of no value.
“Merely a fireplace providing meager warmth for someone else.”
Glitheon had used the fireplace analogy himself, and it seemed fitting that he burst into a bitter laugh.
“Iliade ought to be an eternal flame…”
Fwoosh—!
In that split second, a blaze ignited in Glitheon’s palm and consumed his entire body.
“Yet Sylvia would content herself with a mere bonfire.”
The last voice, bearing contempt, anger, and a blend of regret and sadness, was, in a way, Glitheon’s last words.
“No daughter of mine would behave as such.”
With that, Glitheon prepared the grand magic he had been conceptualizing.
“That damned continent, and Deculein, whom I would utterly crush.”
Glitheon, using his body—heart, veins, muscles, and organs—as a medium, along with all the mana, magic, and knowledge gathered by his mind…
“With all my heart, I will pray for utter destruction.”
Glitheon attempted to become an eternal flame, burning down the lighthouse and scorching the passage Deculein sought to preserve for humanity, thereby trapping them all on the outer edge of the world.
“… As the will of the Altar,” Glitheon concluded.
With his entire body blazing like a supernova, Glitheon muttered and closed his eyes.
And…
“No!”
A voice echoing from somewhere was Ria’s shout, and she, having rushed into the lighthouse, used her body to tackle Glitheon.
“Argh!”
Boom—!
Glitheon, wrestling with the little mass, rolled about on the ground.
