A Villain's Will to Survive - Chapter 349: The End of All (2)

Chapter 349: The End of All (2)

The celestial object descending from beyond was causing an unusual phenomenon affecting the continent’s nature and mana. Due to this, gravity was disrupted, the world’s inhibitory force was momentarily loosened, and this phenomenon would grow more severe the closer the celestial object drew near.

“… Glitheon,” Epherene said.

At the apocalypse, Epherene manifested herself and, for a moment, fixed herself to a specific axis of time, as this was the only moment she could break free from the constraints of causality.

“Can you hear me?”

Looking at Glitheon, Epherene was overcome by a somewhat conflicted emotion, for the exhausted and fragile Glitheon appeared to have already lost himself.

However, Glitheon’s eyes, which glared ferociously at Epherene and were as terrifying and predatory as a wild animal’s, were no different from when he had driven out the Luna house, but now Epherene was no longer afraid of him and rather felt pity for him.

“… Your magic was not dismantled. I only pushed back its time a little,” Epherene continued, though she was unsure if the words would be a comfort to Glitheon.

Epherene could only feel sorrowful, for there was no meaning in the grand magic Glitheon had manifested at the cost of his own life, in the magic that offered himself up as a living sacrifice.

Glitheon offered no words.

Could his vocal cords have been shredded because he just shouted, ‘How dare a lowborn like you—’? Epherene thought.

Epherene looked around at the paintings hanging here, which were passages leading to the outer edge of the world that Glitheon had attempted to burn completely, and she was still researching a method to facilitate the escape of the numerous people of the continent.

“But… I have a question,” Epherene muttered under her breath, her eyes again turning toward Glitheon. “Why did you hate me and my house so much?”

While Yukline and Iliade could be considered rivals or perhaps even sworn enemies, the same could not be said of Luna, as the relationship was more accurately that of a predator and its prey, with the latter being devoured completely.

“… Hate, you say,” Glitheon replied with a sneer, with a voice like ash flowing from his scorched vocal cords. “Child of Luna, I held no hatred toward you.”

Glitheon stared blankly up at the ceiling.

“Then?” Epherene asked in a hushed tone.

“… I was afraid.”

It was an all too honest answer from Glitheon.

“That your talent might one day exceed my daughter’s.”

Epherene said nothing and swallowed hard, the lump that had pooled in her throat.

“That… was what I was afraid of,” Glitheon continued, tilting his head and staring at Epherene with pupils that melted like candle wax. “Epherene, you, too, are being used by Deculein.”

However, the moment Glitheon spoke of Deculein, fury once again settled in his voice and face, and his persistent obsession flickered like embers.

“Do not trust Deculein. He will surely ruin you, just as he ruined my daughter…”

Ruin, he says. Could the dictionary definition of ruin have changed without my knowledge? Epherene thought.

“What is the problem? Sylvia became what you wished her to be, did she not?” Epherene muttered after a moment of consideration, her voice barely a breath.

“… What I had wished her to be?” Glitheon repeated, his voice returning with immediate anger.

“Yes, you said you wished for Sylvia to be a sun,” Epherene replied, sitting down on the ground beside Glitheon.

What Glitheon desired from Sylvia, like the sun, was for her to become an archmage who reigned over the sky of all mages—a Celestial Realm that even the proud Floating Island would have no choice but to look up to.

“She has already become a sun.”

However, Epherene stretched out her finger and pointed to the paintings in the gallery, and to the innumerable people preserved within them.

“For without sunlight, life cannot survive…”

Because so many people rely on her, her talent is the hope of this world, and her power can become the warmest of nature, giving life and softness to the continent, Epherene thought.

“And in that same way, Sylvia will save this continent,” Epherene concluded.

However, Glitheon laughed out loud, a sound that was nothing more than a mockery.

“How foolish. That is not what ambition is…” Glitheon muttered.

Click, clack—

At that moment, a distinct footfall announced the arrival of someone, and Epherene gave a nod while Glitheon knew who that someone was without having to see them.

Click, clack. Click, clack.

However, from nothing more than the rhythmic sound of the footsteps, he could already know.

“… Dad.”

As a voice called him as Dad—a voice as dry as it had always been, but with the purest, most beautiful tone in the world—Glitheon slowly closed his eyes.

“It has been a long time.”

Glitheon’s expression became somber once more at her words saying it had been a long time since they last met, as she was a daughter without ambition, a sight merely unfitting of Iliade.

“Do you hate me,” Sylvia asked.

The sight of Sylvia having given up on her house was a disappointment to Glitheon.

I believed it was you who could bring my great hope to fruition, the aspiration of my house, and I never once harbored a doubt… Glitheon thought.

“… You are being deceived by Deculein,” Glitheon said, as if his words were laced with blood, and a trickle of crimson seeped from his tightly bitten gums.

“Dad.”

Sylvia neither denied nor affirmed because she did not want to force herself upon Glitheon’s will and her father’s heart.

“I have reconciled with myself.”

However, Sylvia could only state that she had reconciled with her.

“Deculein, who killed my mother, and you, dad, who instigated it…”

After Sylvia’s words came to a stop, Glitheon’s eyes, which had been closed, slowly opened.

“In the end, it was a matter of reconciling with myself. There was no one to blame,” Sylvia continued, approaching Glitheon, sitting by his head, and placing a hand on his chest. “… So.”

Though Sylvia’s voice remained emotionless, the feelings within it were brimming like the sea and sparkling like starlight, like tears gathered in a puppet’s eyes.

“Wouldn’t it be possible for you, dad, to reconcile with yourself,” Sylvia concluded.

Glitheon burst into laughter without realizing it at his daughter’s words asking for reconciliation.

“Hahaha.”

Nearing the end of his life, Glitheon faced his child’s earnest request, which had become Sylvia’s wish for him to abandon his ambition.

“No.”

However, Glitheon shook his head because he was the head of the family of Iliade before he was Sylvia’s father, and the time he had lived as Glitheon was far longer than the years he had spent as Sylvia’s father.

“… I do not think I can do that,” Glitheon continued, looking directly into Sylvia’s golden eyes and glaring with reproach at the child he had wrongly thought was the truest reflection of Iliade. “I am disappointed in you… immeasurably disappointed, my child.”

Though his voice trembled and Glitheon’s heart continued to flicker with flame, Sylvia was rather proud of that very image of her father.

“Yes, I understand,” Sylvia replied, wrapping her hands around Glitheon’s. “Because that is how you are, dad.”

… During the silence that fell for a moment, Glitheon and Sylvia looked at each other without a word.

Crackle, crackle—

As the sound resembling a bonfire reached his ears, Glitheon slowly came to a realization and now understood why Epherene had said that Sylvia had already become the sun.

“… You are right.”

Though she was a world away from Glitheon’s expectations and far too alien for a child of Iliade, and though she was terribly flawed and utterly pathetic, Glitheon accepted it.

“You have taken after Cielia, rather than me,” Glitheon continued.

That she had more strongly inherited the warm image of Cielia rather than the Iliade bloodline or Glitheon himself.

“… Yes,” Sylvia replied.

Sylvia accepted it in the same manner, and she did not let go of the hand of Glitheon that she was holding tightly.

“And… Sylvia,” Glitheon said, closing his eyes.

Glitheon’s body and mind, both completely worn out and exhausted to their limits, had now reached their breaking point—but before he could end his own life…

“I loved Cielia with all my heart.”

Although Glitheon killed Cielia to ignite his ambition, it did not signify a lack of love because ambition had merely taken precedence over the emotion of love.

“Therefore, Sylvia…” Glitheon continued, a smile gracing his lips as he spoke each word with great care. “Although I am disappointed that you have no ambition…”

Suddenly, Glitheon’s pupils darkened, and his blond hair crumbled into ashes, but without letting go of Sylvia’s hand, which he was holding tightly…

“Even in this moment, I… love you.”

He left his last words with her…

Crackle, crackle…

A bonfire burning somewhere in someone’s heart—that was precisely the level of comfort that was Glitheon’s end.

***

Yulie swung her sword, and with every motion, a frigid wind arose, flowing as a blizzard of ice while the mana of winter settled coldly, preventing the Altar’s priests, Sirio, and Jaelon from breaking through that current of absolute zero or approaching even an inch, as Yulie manifested her domain.

Thus, Yulie continued to guard the path leading to Deculein, and even when faced with hundreds, she did not give way at all.

However, a reckless offensive was forbidden because the enemies were attempting to bait Yulie out by purposely exposing weak points to draw her into an attack.

But Yulie’s purpose was not an offensive one but merely one of guard, as she would protect this door until the meteorite fell, until her body could no longer move, until her soul withered, and until her mana was utterly spent…

With each passing moment, Yulie felt a sense of happiness, knowing that if she could buy even a single second of time like this, her happiness alone would be beyond words.

Clang—!

Yulie’s body shattered every time she swung her sword and broke every time she unleashed mana, but she did not mind, because she had her convictions and a heart for Deculein, and dying this way was, on the contrary, her wish.

Claaang—!

With the resonance of swords striking swords, Yulie’s battle continued as she deflected Jaelon’s sword and froze Sirio’s…

***

“It seems we won’t be able to get past her,” Sirio said.

“I agree, she is a wall of steel,” Jaelon replied, an awkward expression on his face as he scratched the back of his neck.

Yulie, a knight gripping her sword with both hands, was utterly an incarnation who could not be penetrated no matter how much she was attacked or taunted, and neither swordsmanship nor magic could get past her.

Every time we make a move, she just freezes it, Sirio thought.

“The Empress, it is reported, has entered the lighthouse,” the priest said, announcing what was but the latest bad news.

“Oh dear, if we can’t get past what’s in front of us, won’t the Empress coming from behind kill us first?” Sirio said with a smile.

“Hmm… I can’t argue with that. Is this death, then, the path of our faith?” Jaelon muttered, shrugging his shoulders.

The two of them, even when facing death, seemed to be detached from the world—no, they appeared composed.

“Hmm… but Jaelon, I have a question,” Sirio said, his sword balancing on his shoulder as he turned to face him. “Why did you turn to the Altar?”

That was a rather innocent question from Sirio, since they were all well aware from the outset that the ultimate conclusion of the Altar—or more precisely, the desire of Quay—was the destruction of the continent.

“… What reason could there be for a question like that? Is there ever a reason for one’s religion?” Jaelon replied.

Sirio furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin, but soon let out a chuckle and nodded.

“Well, that is true.”

There was no reason for faith, and just as Yulie’s faith in protecting Deculein had no particular reason, neither did their faith in serving Quay, for believing in faith was ultimately believing in oneself, and it was a contest to measure the size of that belief.

“… Then,” Sirio continued, his sword once more alight with mana.

Jaelon and the other priests were no different.

“Since we are to die whether we turn back or not, what choice do we have?”

A refreshing smile blossomed on the clear face of Sirio, the Master Swordsman, whose face was like the wind.

“We must break through the front,” Sirio concluded.

***

Claaaaaaang—!

Amid the clanging of swords, flying ice fragments, and a commotion where mana and demonic energy swirled together, Ria walked up the stairs that Sylvia had drawn, hiding herself secretly, and one step at a time, she reached the lighthouse’s uppermost floor.

Gulp.

There was a small and simple door at the end of the stairs, and if it were opened, what lay on the other side was…

Creeeeeeeak—!

While she hesitated, the door opened, causing Ria and the children to shudder as a voice was the first thing they heard.

“… You have come.”

It was Deculein’s voice, and he was sitting in a chair, remaining noble, with wine poured into an antique glass.

“Yuara,” Deculein continued, the name falling from his lips.

At that moment, Ria felt as if her heart was pierced with a needle, but she maintained her composure and walked toward him with measured steps.

“… Hoo.”

Then, Ria took a deep breath, for she had always had doubts about Deculein, and even now, the blue forget-me-not on his desk only served to heighten her doubts.

“What is it you mean to do?”

Deculein slightly furrowed his brow, and Ria prepared her method, which was simple—if he was a human, or at least a person, and if her hypothesis was correct, Deculein would inevitably hesitate the moment he heard a certain name.

“… Well,” Ria replied, the words taking their time to come out. “You know.”

Of course, the probability of it not being true was higher, but since he had called her Yuara first, she, too, wanted to answer that way, just for this one time.

“… Woo-Jin.”

Woo-Jin.

Sometime in the distant past, it was the name that Ah-Ra would call dozens of times a day.

“Kim Woo-Jin,” Ria concluded.

Pretending to be mad, Ria called out the name Yoo Ah-Ra loved more than any other, and then watched for a response from Deculein.