A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 354: The End of All (7)

… The most pure and virtuous magic, the simplest yet most fundamental spell engraved into the body of an Iron Man, was the truth that drove my Telekinesis, using my heart as a sacrifice and this lighthouse as a catalyst, along with the most perfect mana on the continent—Sophien’s.

At the scene of that miracle, I looked at Sophien, who was also looking at me with resolute eyes, without a single tremble.

“… Your Majesty,” I called, a sense of unease stirring within me because of her last words, her wish for my happiness.

However, Sophien had no answer and, as if to stop me from speaking, flooded the sword blade she was gripping with mana.

Whoooosh…

The flawless mana of Sophien ran through my body, bringing the magic to completion and manifesting a beautiful miracle.

With a resonance originating from within the skeleton of an Iron Man, the world at that moment was being stained by darkness—no, my eyes and ears were failing, and the entire world felt as if it was moving away from me, a void as if I were drifting through a faraway universe, while above that darkness, a tiny voice seeped in.

“… Deculein, and Kim Woo-Jin,” Sophien said.

A voice calling my name—Sophien’s—came to me like a mirage.

“… I remain with but a single question.”

The sensation of her hand brushing my cheek was faint.

Am I alive at this moment, or am I dead? And if I am alive, do I stand with dignity, or am I sitting in such a pathetic state? I thought.

“… What is the meaning of your name?”

Her Majesty, the Empress, asked for the meaning of my name, and although it had no grand meaning, if she asked, it was only right that I should answer.

“… Home Woo and Genuine Jin—Woo-Jin, that is my name,” I replied.

Then, Sophien muttered and nodded as if she were satisfied.

“… Indeed, those words are right, and they are a warm sentiment,” Sophien said.

Before I had a chance to ask what was right and what was warm, Sophien had already begun to speak.

“… It is you who have become my true home.”

Sophien’s voice was filled with laughter, and I, too, smiled in response, feeling as if her heart was at peace and finding great satisfaction in that.

“… Then, you may find your rest at last,” Sophien concluded.

Sophien’s words telling me to rest were as if she were gently and warmly holding me in her arms, and like a pardon for me, who had never rested, allowing me, in truth, to rest in peace until this end was finished…

***

In the silence that had fallen, Sophien looked down at Deculein, who was lying comfortably, without a word.

“This is the first time…”

It was, in fact, the very first time.

“I’ve seen you so at ease.”

Deculein’s disheveled clothes and untrimmed hair were utterly lovely as he lay there beautifully…

“Deculein,” Sophien continued with a smile. “I have learned a great many things because of you.”

Shing—

Sophien pulled out the sword that she had driven into Deculein’s heart, but the body of an Iron Man held back even the bleeding. Deculein refused the filth of being soaked in his own blood to the end. Looking at his clean appearance, Sophien put away her sword without a word, rose to her feet, and looked out the window of the lighthouse.

… Drip.

… Drip.

In the rain that fell on the Land of Destruction, a puppet was standing, his face set toward this side as though staring at Sophien, and his explicit stare and fiercely fluttering emotions were enough to make a person infer his identity.

“… Are you Quay?” Sophien asked in a hushed voice.

“I am here, waiting for you,” he replied with a nod, his lips barely moving.

Crackle—

Mana flared up from Sophien’s heart, manifesting anger, sadness, and perhaps a sense of relief.

“My final moment…”

Sophien fell silent for a moment, then took one last look at Deculein, taking in his beauty in every way with her eyes before turning her eyes back to Quay.

“… It is in that place,” Sophien muttered, her voice laced with hostility.

Sophien took a step forward.

***

… Once Sophien had gone, a presence abruptly stirred in the stillness of the lighthouse’s uppermost floor where Deculein was falling into sleep.

Rustle— Rustle—

What began as a mere rustling suddenly evolved into heavy, stomping footsteps…

“Huff!”

From between the eternally frozen passage appeared a woman—Yeriel, Deculein’s younger sibling—with black bobbed hair, breathing out hot breath and rapidly looking around.

“… Brother!”

Yeriel appeared to have found Deculein and rushed to him in alarm, looking at him—with a hole in his heart but showing no sign of bleeding—with a look of confusion.

“What is…”

Creak—

At that moment, Yeriel was startled by the sound of a door opening somewhere, and she turned to look in its direction, readying her mana.

“… Huh?”

However, the person who appeared, with a click of their shoe heels, was not an enemy but rather an ally and someone who should not have been in this place.

“Sylvia?”

It was Sylvia.

“I thought you were locked up,” Yeriel asked, her brow furrowed.

“… I am still locked up. This is just a puppet,” Sylvia replied politely, glancing at Deculein, who was lying down comfortably on the floor. “Professor…”

“He’s still alive,” Yeriel said in an agitated tone.

Then, Sylvia raised her hand and pointed somewhere—it was toward the door that Yeriel had come through.

Yeriel tilted her head in confusion, but soon came to understand the meaning.

Craaaaaaack—!

Beyond the door that Yeriel had come through, Yulie’s frigid cold was spreading.

“How did you manage to get through,” Sylvia asked.

“Huh? Umm… I just came through,” Yeriel replied, shaking her head with a look of confusion.

Sylvia’s eyebrows trembled slightly as she was lost in thought for a moment, as if she were a little doubtful, and glancing alternately between Yulie’s passage and Yeriel…

“… Yes.”

Sylvia then let out a dry laugh and went over to Deculein, kneeling beside him.

“Are you listening, Professor.”

When Sylvia asked if he was listening, Deculein, of course, had no answer, but for the moment Yeriel also took a seat beside Sylvia.

“Professor, you have to keep your promise.”

Sylvia spoke of a promise, the meaning of which Yeriel, of course, didn’t know, but in that moment, she felt as if her heart was burning in her chest.

“Professor, you told Yulie he wouldn’t die before her, didn’t you? So…” Sylvia continued, turning to Yeriel. “I’m asking for your help.”

Craaaaaaack—

In the midst of all that, Yulie’s frigid cold was steadily approaching, freezing this space and this moment solid.

“I need you to stay with the Professor, Miss Yeriel.”

Craaaaaaack…

The spreading frigid cold caused Sylvia’s hair to freeze, but Yeriel remained unharmed and did not feel even the slightest bit of cold.

“I need you to take the Professor into the heart of this frigid cold… and freeze him.”

With a smile on the unfrozen half of her face, Sylvia, whose other half was already frozen, made a polite request to Yeriel.

“I need your help, Miss Yeriel… for the Professor to keep his promise,” Yeriel concluded.

***

… Drip.

… Drip.

As the falling rain soaked Quay, raindrops struck his retina and drenched his face while he looked up at the sky and stared at the water shaking his shoulders, seeking some form of answer.

… Drip.

… Drip.

“It’s raining,” Quay said.

Thud—

A footstep sounded near Quay.

“Will God really come to me… just as Deculein said?” Quay muttered, slowly lowering his eyes to look at her standing beyond the horizon.

“… Sophien.”

It was Sophien, a woman whose long crimson hair blazed like fire, whose mana caused raindrops to evaporate before they could even touch her, and who held a sword at her side that contained a thick murderous intent.

“Sophien, have you ever seen the Holy Era?” Quay asked.

“I have experienced it in a dream,” Sophien replied.

A hazy memory appeared in Sophien’s dreams—the scenery of an unknown temple, a sanctuary where revelation and the language of God were recorded.

“Yes, that’s right,” Quay said with a smile. “I showed you on purpose, because you—your very body—was originally mine.”

… Drip.

… Drip.

In the persistent rain, the two stood in stark contrast—Quay was drenched while Sophien stood burning away the rain.

“Sophien, you are my creation.”

In response to Quay’s words, Sophien nodded, accepting his claim without the slightest tremor of emotion or protest even though he dared to call the Empress a mere creation.

“I am aware.”

“… Yes, I suppose that’s what it’s like to be a creation,” Quay replied with a chuckle, a drop of rain tracing the corner of his twisted mouth. “A creation tries to kill the very being who created them. How arrogant, and completely without gratitude.”

Quay’s lips pressed together tightly.

“Just like the humans clinging to this continent right now.”

Sophien stared at Quay in silence.

“The followers of the Holy Era also killed their God, blind to His grace. By killing the God who created them, they committed an unforgivable sin—a sin that can never be washed away.”

At that moment, the Empress’s mana faded and the crimson mana that burned the rain receded, allowing moisture to begin seeping into Sophien’s body.

“Sophien, you are trying to kill me, just like they did.”

… Drip.

… Drip.

Under the downpour, Sophien gradually broke into a smile, drawing a fine curve upon her face.

“No, God died by His own hand,” Sophien replied.

Sophien delivered to Quay the very revelation she had interpreted with Deculein.

“For the freedom of humanity.”

In silence, Quay shook his head.

“Your interpretation is wrong. You humans always think very arrogantly—”

“No,” Sophien interrupted Quay, stepping forward and lowering her sword. “… You do not know.”

Drip— Drip—

The rain flowed down the blade of Sophien’s sword, collecting in a puddle on the ground below.

“When you care for someone with all your heart…”

Drip, drip.

In the center of the gradually intensifying downpour, the celestial object that had already surpassed the moon in size—the satellite poised for the destruction of this continent—loomed as Sophien spoke.

“When you love someone with all your heart…”

Sophien spoke with the voice of the Empress, recalling the man who now filled her heart.

“It means that…”

Whooooosh…

A gust of wind blew, carrying the mana—the magic of Deculein—which was Telekinesis.

“You are willing to die for them…”

Before the celestial body could bring about the destruction of this continent, Deculein’s Telekinesis would preserve the humans, the animals, and all life on this continent.

“That you can willingly accept even your own death,” Sophien continued, looking at Quay, “and if even a mere, imperfect human can do that…”

For some reason, Sophien felt relieved because it was a precious experience to confess all her feelings and pour out her every emotion to another, even if that person was her last enemy.

“A perfect God, who would surely love His creations above all else…”

However, Quay appeared somewhat different, as his face was now as sinister as a devil’s, and an intense malevolence filled him as though he wished to rip Sophien’s mouth apart immediately.

“Would have found it a simple decision to die for them… no, not merely easy…”

Quay’s mana flared up viciously—intense enough that the body of the puppet began to crumble—yet Sophien stared at him with a serene expression, gripping her sword.

“But a decision made with abundant simplicity,” Sophien concluded.

“Shut your mouth,” Quay muttered, his expression contorting as his teeth ground together with a sound like a hammer hitting an anvil while a violent rage boiled in his heart.

… The reason was simple.

“No, my mouth will not be shut,” Sophien replied.

The reason was simple—Quay feared that Sophien’s realization, this absurd insight, might indeed be the truth, for Sophien was the body and soul he had sent forth…

“You created me, you should know, shouldn’t you?”

… A creation of his own, and resembled him more than anyone else.

“You created me, you should know, shouldn’t you?” Sophien repeated, a bright smile on her face.

Booooooooooom—!

At that moment, the crumbling air currents in the sky were felt, along with sparks of mana that flashed like lightning, and the turmoil of the celestial object roared around them.

“… As I am the Empress of the continent and for the sake of the one I love…”

And so, with her sword gripped tight, Sophien leaned forward, crouching her body into a hunched shape—like a rhinoceros charging ahead or a warhorse breaking through—and unleashed a torrent of crimson mana at the enemy across from her…

“I, myself, shall be the one to kill you,” Sophien concluded.

Quay, her own creator.