A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 135: Snow Globe (3)

Home Woo and Genuine Jin—Kim Woo-Jin. I spoke my true name to the giant. It had been so long since I’d last said it aloud that it felt almost foreign to my ears.

The giant smiled, looking down at me in silence. His stillness wasn’t threatening; instead, it carried a warmth.

"Human, this place is neither a prison nor a cradle. It is a grave," the giant spoke, addressing the unvoiced question lingering in my thoughts. "A grave prepared for me."

I remembered reading about the giant's design ages ago, probably while going over the game’s storyline.

A species that had traversed continents and seas, reaching the farthest corners of the world. A sage beyond human understanding, one who knew all and saw everything. To him, humans were nothing more than ants.

And yet, he had not crushed me, thanks to his wisdom and kindness.

"Human... Your presence reveals that there are realms beyond this world still shrouded in mystery to me."

“... Is that so?”

"Yes," the giant said, his voice echoing through the depths of my soul. "Your entrapment here is the result of my failure to properly conceal this grave."

I held my silence.

"The way out lies here, and I can open it at any time. Yet, even then, I know you would not leave alone."

There was no need for me to answer his inquiries. The giant had already read my thoughts and given me the answers I sought. Still, one odd word in his explanation caught my attention.

“By failure, are you saying it was intentional rather than a mistake?”

The giant smiled once more and said, "Indeed, I have long foreseen that such a meeting would come to pass. When one has lived for thousands, even tens of thousands of years, encounters like this become inevitable."

“... How fascinating.”

The giant’s wisdom went far beyond human understanding; he had mastered this world. Maybe he had seen my arrival coming, grasping that I was someone from Earth now woven into this game's world.

"The time for answers has not yet come. Every human endeavor unravels the moment it reaches its end—just as we giants, too, bowed to the relentless march of time..."

In short, I had to forge my own path. I nodded; nothing about this was new. Ever since becoming Deculein, that was simply how things were.

“This cliff spans thousands of feet, with currents that shift unpredictably. As the boundary of a world I have shaped, it will be nearly impossible for any human to withstand. Climbing back up will prove as arduous as the descent,” the giant declared.

Crack—!

I dismissed his warning and drove the Wood Steel into the icy wall, carving out footholds to grip as I climbed.

I turned to the giant and said, "I will return, and I’ll bring my companions with me."

The giant's lips curled into a faint smile as he closed his eyes.

***

Meanwhile, Gindalf guided Epherene toward an odd-looking, cylindrical winged vessel—a small aircraft.

“Step inside,” Gindalf said.

"... Inside here?" Epherene asked, her voice tinged with hesitation.

“That’s right. Take the back seat.”

Epherene hesitated but climbed into the back seat, muttering, "This doesn't feel very safe..."

Vroom~

As soon as she secured the helmet, the aircraft surged into the sky.

“Wait—ahhh!”

The aircraft shot through the Floating Island's orbit, the intense air pressure making her lips tremble.

“Oooooh— Aaaaah—”

“Hahaha. Enjoying the ride, are you?” Gindalf said with a chuckle.

“Gaaaaah—!”

“Quite the thrill, isn’t it?”

“Wooooooah—!”

... At last, they reached one of the smaller islands surrounding the Floating Island, known as the Inn.

“We’ve arrived! How was it? Quite the experience, wouldn’t you say?” Gindalf said, with a warm chuckle.

"... That was the worst, no cap," Epherene grumbled.

“Hmm, no cap, you say? What an odd phrase. These youngsters do have a way with words these days.”

“No cap, it means it wasn’t fun at all... Ugh, my mouth feels weird,” Epherene muttered, shaking her head as she pressed her fingers to her chapped lips, wincing at the sting left from the aircraft’s vibration.

“Well, that’s to be expected for a first-timer,” Gindalf remarked as he pushed open the door to the Inn.

Jingle—!

Gindalf stepped inside, the bell above the door ringing softly. Epherene lingered outside, her eyes scanning the scenery around her.

“... Wow,” Epherene murmured.

The dock stretched out, lined with dozens of small aircraft poised for takeoff. Beyond its edge lay a vast emptiness, not a cliff, but an endless, yawning abyss.

“Quickly, get inside. It won't be safe if the wind starts to blow,” Gindalf called out.

"Oh, okay!" Epherene said quickly, rushing inside the Inn. “Oh?”

Though its exterior was grand, the inside was unexpectedly plain and quiet. Rows of tables filled the area, and the menu featured an array of enticing dishes.

“Epherene, this way,” Gindalf called out, raising a hand from his seat.

Beside him, the pink-haired woman winked and greeted, “Ah, there ya ah.”

“... Mage Rogerio?” Epherene’s eyes widened.

Ethereal-ranked mage Rogerio was picking her teeth with a toothpick as she fanned herself with a magic thesis and replied, “Yup, that’s right. Been a hot minute, huh? Go on, grab a seat.”

“Oh, okay,” Epherene replied as she took a seat beside Gindalf, her eyes drifting toward the thesis in Rogerio’s hands.

“... Ah, this?” Rogerio said, noticing her look, then shrugged. “It’s all the rage on the Floating Island. Everyone’s got these badges showin’ how many pages they’ve read. If ya ain't keepin’ up, ya can’t even join the conversations.”

“... I see.”

“So, I figured I’d give it a go, but honestly, it ain’t really my kinda thing, ya know?” n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Haha...” Epherene muttered with a bitter nod.

After all, a thesis like that wouldn’t come easily to Rogerio, who specialized in Ductility.

“Haha. And yet, this young one here insists she’s grasped up to a full hundred and thirty pages of that thesis!” Gindalf announced in a booming voice for all to hear.

The Inn fell silent as all eyes briefly turned toward Epherene’s table. A flush of embarrassment washed over her, but soon enough, the room returned to its lively chatter, dismissing Gindalf’s words as simple nonsense.

Rogerio narrowed her eyes and asked, "... That true, or ya just pullin’ my leg?"

Epherene explained, “It’s not a lie. I got my hands on the thesis earlier than most, so—”

“Gettin’ it early don’t mean a Solda like you would get through a hundred and thirty pages. After thirty, each page’s like a big win to read, ya know?”

Beneath the Floating Island, among the addicts, a thesis reading relay was in full swing, viewed by many as a rare opportunity for underdogs to rise. If they heard a low-ranking student in Solda had managed to comprehend up to one hundred and thirty pages of the thesis...

“Haha, but let’s put that conversation aside for now. Epherene, this Inn is quite unique. Take a look around,” Gindalf said, pointing across the room. Epherene’s eyes followed his gesture. “There, you see? That’s Carla and Jackal.”

Epherene's mouth dropped open. Just a few steps away, Carla and Jackal—the ones she had encountered on Ghost Island—sat casually. Jackal was lazily chewing on a twig, yawning, while Carla stirred sugar into her latte.

“And there sits the Jukaken of the Six Serpents.”

Jukaken, one of the leaders of the Six Serpents, was a strikingly handsome man with long hair. He sat conversing with other male mages, each of them possessing an unusual beauty.

“And over there... Haha. Even in a place like this, that fellow managed to slip in.”

“Who is it?” Epherene asked, looking in the direction Gindalf was pointing at.

Rogerio snickered, taking a sip of her coffee, and said, “That’s Gerek. They call him the Multi-Persona. Wicked dangerous, that guy.”

Gerek, a strikingly handsome man, acted strangely, muttering things like, "Big brother's got you... Dad’s got it..." while some unknown elderly woman stood beside him.

“And over there, in the corner, is Ihelm,” Rogerio added, pointing with her thumb to a corner of the Inn.

Epherene quickly looked in that direction.

"... Therefore, we must thoroughly analyze this section. Even if Astal and the addicts refuse to assist, we cannot allow the mages of the Mage Tower to surpass us," Ihelm stated, his hair slicked back as he studied the thesis with his protégés, deliberately seated in the shadows.

Ihelm clearly preferred to keep his research on Deculein's thesis out of sight from others.

“Assign your assistants to verify the calculations. Leave the routine tasks to them.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll reach out to them right away," one of Ihelm’s protégés replied.

Gindalf stroked his beard and said, “Haha. Fascinating, isn’t it? Any mage of high rank can step into this Inn on the Floating Island, even those from the Volcano, which the Mage Tower has yet to officially recognize.”

The Volcano—the official name for the Ashes. Epherene's face grew tense.

“Especially those two—Gleifer and Helgen. Take note of their faces; they’re a couple of loose cannons,” Gindalf continued, gesturing toward the two men covered in tattoos and scars.

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. But why did you bring me here, old man?” Epherene asked.

“Hmm. Do you not feel the heavy pressure in this Inn? The aura of each person here bearing down on you?”

“... Aha~ You are right. Now that you mention it, it has been a little hard to breathe,” Epherene replied, nodding as she suddenly became aware of the heaviness she had felt in the Inn all this time.

Gindalf continued, “To stand against that man, Decalane, you’ll need to build up your mental strength. And for that, you must be in the presence of the strongest on the continent—”

Jingle—

At that moment, the bell above the Inn’s door gave a soft ring. It was an unspoken rule not to acknowledge new arrivals, but Epherene, unaware, found herself glancing in that direction.

“Oh!”

Epherene leaped to her feet without thinking, drawing the attention of everyone in the Inn. She smiled brightly, spotting a familiar face she hadn’t seen in quite some time.

“Sylvia!”

It was Sylvia, dressed in a black robe embroidered with gold, marking her rank as Monarch. She had simply planned to have a meal with Idnik, but to her irritation, she unexpectedly ran into Epherene. With a hint of annoyance, Sylvia glared at her.

“Hey, it’s been a while. So, you actually made it to Monarch, huh?”

“... Foolish Epherene. You shouldn’t act like you know anyone here—”

"Over here! Come sit with us!" Epherene grinned, gesturing toward their table.

Of course, Sylvia planned to ignore her.

“Hmph.”

“That’s a good idea,” Idnik said, taking hold of Sylvia’s arm and leading her along.

“What’s so good about it?”

“Come, I’d like to be introduced to your friend.”

"She's not my friend," Sylvia protested, trying to pull away, but was still dragged to Epherene's table.

Smiling brightly, Epherene gestured toward the stack of papers in Sylvia's hands and asked, "Is that Professor Deculein's thesis?"

For a moment, Sylvia clenched her teeth. Then, with a cold shake of her head, she replied, “No.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Idnik spoke up for Sylvia and said, "It's a novel."

“Ah,” Sylvia muttered as she flinched, then shot Idnik a sharp glare.

Ignoring Sylvia's glare, Idnik continued, "She's writing this novel on her own, herself."

“... Why are you telling her that?”

“Well, once it’s published, it will be available to everyone. So, does it really matter?”

“No, seriously, what’s wrong with you, Idnik?”

Idnik dismissed Sylvia's irritation, while Epherene, buzzing with excitement, couldn't let the news slip by.

“You are writing a novel?! Let me read it! Please hand it over to me!” Epherene beamed, reaching out with both hands.

***

Four more weeks had come and gone, and Sophien decided there was no point in waiting any longer.

“Your Majesty, I must object. This cannot be allowed,” Keiron objected, his stance firm against her decision.

“Hmph. How dare a mere knight object to the Empress in such a manner?” Sophien remarked, her lips twisting in disdain as she glared at him.

Even so, Keiron remained unshaken and continued, “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but my duty is to protect you, no matter the circumstances—”

Sophien recited a spell of wordcraft. In an instant, Keiron’s body lost balance, but he quickly regained his footing, gripping his sword with unwavering resolve. Letting go was not an option; he knew all too well that Sophien favored methods that guaranteed absolute death.

After all, this was the very reason she hadn’t hurled herself off the cliff. If that crevasse turned out to be a magical void of endless descent, she would remain trapped forever, unable to trigger regression.

"Keiron, if you believe taking that sword away will stop me, you’re sorely mistaken. I've smashed my skull against rocks before."

Keiron held his tongue.

“Why are you so agitated? We’ll meet again eventually,” Sophien added.

Keiron stood still, rejecting his master's command. He had become a statue, encased in a Defensive Mana Barrier so powerful that breaking through it seemed almost impossible.

"... You stubborn fool. I’ve considered it thoroughly, but there’s no way out of here, whether I choose death or not. Starving or suicide—it’s all the same in the end."

Keiron didn’t respond. Frustration building, Sophien found herself struck by a sudden thought, one that sparked her curiosity. She wondered if her spell of wordcraft could make it happen.

“... תעשה חרב.”

With a single syllable, magic took shape. Her voice surged with mana, weaving through the snowflakes, sharpening them as they merged into a blade, as pure and sharp as steel—an Ice Sword.

“No, Your Majesty!” Keiron cried, advancing swiftly to snatch the sword from her grasp.

With another spell of wordcraft, Sophien made him lose his footing once more and ordered, “Enough of this obstinance.”

"Your Majesty, I must insist that you stop."

"That’s enough. This is where it ends for now. Until we meet again, Keiron."

Just as she was about to draw the Ice Sword across her throat...

“... Just as I expected, Your Majesty,” came an unexpected voice from nowhere.

Startled, Sophien and Keiron glanced around, but found no one. They searched every direction—east, west, north, and south—yet saw nothing.

“You have mastered the lesson admirably.”

The voice continued its praise. Sophien glanced up but found nothing, only the dazzlingly bright sky. It wasn’t coming from the sides or above, so that left only one option. Sophien peered into the crevasse, a small, disbelieving laugh slipping from her lips as she shook her head.

"Fortunately, I arrived just in time."

It was Deculein. He had climbed up from the depths of the endless chasm, using the Wood Steel as handholds. Keiron let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Sophien’s eyes narrowed, irritation flaring within them. She replied, "... Not too late, you say? I’ve been waiting long enough."

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied.

“Hmph. And yet, if there's still no way out, my only option is suicide. Now, tell me, what did you find down there?”

Deculein adjusted his clothing, his limbs thawing naturally due to his Iron Man body, and said, “I have found a way out of this snow globe. However...”

Then, Deculein observed Sophien intently, his Sharp Eyesight evaluating her condition. Her tolerance for the cold would be key.

“The cold will be relentless.”

"Worse than death? If the cold is unbearable, then I’ll simply die, and that will be the end of it," Sophien said.

“No, Your Majesty, I cannot allow you to die,” Deculein declared, drawing the Snowflower Stone from his coat. Though it was a small fragment, he infused the power of Authority with Iron Man into the stone before pressing it to Sophien.

This would offer her some protection, at least for the time being. Yet, one concern remained...

“Keiron,” Deculein addressed, turning toward the knight who stood close by.

Deculein thought, Could he endure it? In these depths, the cold is more brutal than anyone can imagine. Even a knight renowned across the continent would struggle without the aid of his attribute—

“I have no fear,” Keiron declared.

“... Very well,” Deculein replied, nodding as his eyes locked with Keiron’s. The knight held his ground, both men standing firm.

Sophien observed them, her face a blend of irritation and resignation.

Deculein continued, “... We will proceed at once.”

"Wouldn't it be wise for you to take a rest first?" Sophien asked.

“Resting would be pointless; we have no supplies left."

“In that case, we move forward—”

The moment she agreed, Sophien's body moved involuntarily. The Snowflower Stone lifted her onto Deculein’s back.

“... Explain yourself,” Sophien said. The situation was strange and completely unexpected. Now clinging to Deculein’s back, she added calmly, “Well, go on then.”

She was simply asking for an explanation, her voice betraying not the slightest hint of embarrassment.

“You must stay as close to me as possible to shield yourself from the cold,” Deculein replied.

“That’s not a valid reason. I don’t feel cold right now.”

“It grows colder the farther we descend. You’ll see for yourself soon.”

“What?”

“Your Majesty, place your trust in Professor Deculein,” Keiron said, his lips curving into a faint smile that Sophien found irritating. “He’s the one who climbed up from the abyss. We have no option but to rely on him.”

Sophien clicked her tongue in annoyance. This situation was unfamiliar to her, and frustration creased her face. Still, laziness got the better of her, and she gave in; arguing simply wasn’t worth the effort.

“Fine.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. We will continue onward.”

And so, carrying the Empress on his back, Deculein began their descent into the abyss.