I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 490  [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [29] Quarrel.

A day had passed since I parted ways with Freyja, and the morning found me in the quiet morning of training. Or rather, a meditative practice disguised as exercise.

I sat cross-legged, the dawn light filtering through the windows, casting soft hues onto the particles of white sand floating around me. They danced with a rhythm I could now command much better than before. My progress had clearly leaped forward.

Opening my palm, I watched as the grains swirled in perfect harmony, responding to my will with precision. A faint smile tugged at my lips.

If only Nevia could see this... how far I've come.

Well maybe it was possible but it depended on whether Celeste would awaken her memories or not.

With a thought, I dismissed the sand, letting the particles fade like whispers in the air. Then, I raised my right hand.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a tremor began, faint at first, growing stronger. Dark purple particles shimmered into existence, swirling ominously around my arm. The energy felt alive, volatile.

Samael's Wrath.

"Urghh!" A sharp jolt coursed through me. My arm throbbed, trembling violently under the strain. Clenching my teeth, I gripped my forearm tightly, grounding myself against the tide of chaos. Slowly, with calm breaths, I wrestled control from the surging emotion.

My amber eyes caught the reflection of the Wrath's particles. They hovered, seemingly harmless, but I knew better.

I closed my fist, forcing the energy to dissipate. The particles vanished into nothingness, leaving only the faint tremor in the air.

[<Are you sure about this?>]

"About what?" I asked, standing and heading toward the bath. Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the shower.

I ran a hand over the faucet's tactile interface, and a moment later, water cascaded from the showerhead, soaking my hair and washing away the tension clinging to my body.

[<About training the Wrath. I thought you had no intention of using it after Nihil revealed its purpose.>]

Nihil's warnings were clear—terrifyingly so.

Samael wanted me to gather all the Sins, to act as a vessel for his twisted resurrection. A soul from who-knows-how-many millennia ago, vying for control of my body. If he succeeded, I would cease to exist, erased entirely to make room for his return.

There was no way I'd let that happen.

But...

"Durathiel is already using a Sin," I muttered, brushing my wet hair back as the water cascaded down. "I don't have a choice. To beat him, I need to wield a Sin of my own."

The voice in my mind carried a rare note of concern.

A faint smile tugged at my lips. "You know, Cleenah, if this had been when we first met, you'd probably have been thrilled to teach me how to use it. You're unusually calm—and much too worried—lately," I said, glancing up at the steam rising in the bathroom.

[<...>]

I laughed softly at her silence. "You don't have to answer me. But don't worry—I won't overuse it. I just don't have much choice right now. I'm up against a Sin Holder. If I take another attack from his Sin without a way to defend myself, I might not survive this time."

[<You're carrying too much on your shoulders. You know you're not alone in this, right? I understand that he can't be defeated through conventional means, but from the game you've talked about, wasn't he never meant to be beaten alone anyway?>]

In the game, Durathiel had been a team effort—a fight shared among Victor, Cylien, Celeste, and the others. Victor had delivered the final blow, but now...

"It's not like in the Game anymore," I said. "Victor has his own battles to face. I've delayed his awakening as an Apostle, and I can't risk him or Celeste going up against Durathiel. It's too dangerous for them."

[<You're underestimating Celeste. Have you forgotten who pulled you out of Nemes' control back then?>]

"I haven't forgotten," I admitted, though my tone faltered. My expression darkened, conflict warring within me.

It wasn't about doubting Celeste's strength—I knew she was capable. But the stakes were different now. What if someone else intervened at the last moment? What if they took her?

She was safer in Zestella, far from Durathiel's or the Iris Project's reach.

With a resigned sigh, I turned off the shower and stepped out. Drying off, I dressed in fresh clothes, ready to leave my room. My mind was already set on what came next.

It was time to face that stubborn woman again, one last time before I leave.

[<Off to see Freydis again?>] Cleenah asked I stepped inside the elevator and pressed Alvara's floor button.

"What? Don't tell me you're tired of her too," I replied, raising an eyebrow.

[<Not at all, but do you remember what Freyja said?>]

I grimaced immediately, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

"I'm not playing the Hero here," I rumbled. "I know what will happen if she snaps."

[<Worrying even about an Antagonist? Layla would surely be jealous.>]

"What? Do you want me to let her die now?" I snapped, a frown pulling at my face.

[<I never said that. In fact, I believe Freydis will be just as important to you as Layla in the future.>]

"What are you talking about?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, but I didn't push the matter. My attention shifted as I reached the door of her room.

Knocking lightly, I said, "It's me. I need to talk."

The silence that greeted me wasn't unexpected, but it didn't make it any less aggravating.

"I'm leaving tonight," I added after a pause."This is the last chance we'll have to talk until I return."

Still no answer.

I sighed. "I have an idea about how you could kill Durathiel."

-Creak. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The door opened slowly, its sound cutting through the silence.

This woman…

I stifled the urge to let my irritation show and stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

As expected, Alvara was perched on her sofa, legs crossed and a book in hand, as though she hadn't just ignored my knocking. She didn't even bother to glance up as I entered.

"You're still reading," I said, my voice tinged with forced lightness. "I hope it's not about torture methods."

The attempt at humor fell flat. Her mood visibly darkened as she snapped the book shut, her piercing gaze locking onto me.

"Unless you have a joke about humans, half-bloods, or high elves dying, don't waste my time. Just tell me how to kill that trash," she said bluntly, raising a cup of coffee to her lips.

I bit back a retort, deciding it was wiser not to escalate things.

Taking a seat across from her, I met her gaze with seriousness. "First, I need to confirm something," I began. "You won't reconsider? You won't return to Vanadias and live peacefully with your sister until the war ends?"

-Crack

Her grip on the cup tightened, a sharp sound fracturing the tense air. I hurriedly continued before she could erupt.

"I see. Let's focus on Durathiel," I said quickly, avoiding the risk of her shattering more than just the cup.

Durathiel wanted her alive, and Bryelle was safe, so the chances of Alvara reaching her breaking point were slim. Still, I preferred her to stay in Vanadias as a precaution. Safety measures aside, if she was so determined to kill Durathiel, I might as well give her some ideas.

I leaned back slightly, meeting her gaze. "Durathiel has a high mastery of mana, like all High Elves, and he excels in Wind Spells. He can easily conjure Six-Layered Mana Circles, and more importantly…" I paused, my tone turning serious, "he wields the Sin of Sloth."

Alvara, who had remained calm until now, furrowed her brows in confusion. "The Sin of Sloth?"

"Have you heard of Samael, the Fallen Angel?" I asked, watching her reaction carefully.

"Lucifer, you mean?"

"No," I said, scratching my head in frustration. That bastard Eden must have erased all records of Samael to prevent others from understanding the true nature of the Sins and gathering them recklessly.

The distinction between Lucifer and Samael was confusing, but they were entirely separate entities.

"It doesn't matter," I continued. "What you need to know is that Durathiel has the power of a God embedded within him—specifically, the Sin of Sloth."

Alvara's skeptical stare made me feel like I was trying to explain a fairy tale. She didn't say anything, but the look on her face was enough to make me feel self-conscious.

"Sloth's ability," I pressed on, "is quite annoying. When I fought him, it was as if my body froze completely—I lost control over my movements and couldn't channel mana. That single moment of vulnerability was all he needed to overpower me. If you experience even a fraction of that, it's enough to kill you."

The only reason I survived was pure luck—or perhaps Durathiel wanted me to crawl away half-dead.

"And how do you know this?" Alvara asked me skeptical.

"I fought him and barely made it out alive," I replied, unwilling to elaborate further.

She curled her lips faintly in disdain. "Am I supposed to be worried because you lost? That's supposed to impress me?"

A vein throbbed on my forehead. I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "You know what? It's my fault for wasting my time worrying about an arrogant, racist woman like you," I snapped.

"What did you just say?" Her eyes narrowed as she rose to her feet. "You know nothing about me or the hell I've suffered at the hands of scum of your kind—"

"And you know nothing about me!" I shot back, my voice rising to match hers. "I may know not much about you but I could say the same about you toward me."

"..."

"Believe it or not, I've endured my fair share of annoyance, pain, and loss—enough to fill several lifetimes," I said.

"From my childhood on Earth to where I stand now, it's been one blow after another. And yet, I have to keep going. I have to. Because there are still people I care about—people I can save. If I stop, if I falter even for a moment, I risk losing everything and everyone." My fists clenched at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as the memories surfaced.

Being the Vessel of that bastard and his cursed Sin of Wrath, I knew all too well that I was a magnet for destruction. And by extension, so were my family and the people closest to me. I'd already begun to understand this truth.

"I admit," I said after a pause, "I've been blind to your pain and even disdainful. But at least now I can see the common ground we share—more than you might think. If you can't see it in me, that's fair enough. But don't think for a second that I'm trying to appease you like some groveling dog—like that mutt, Lykhor, you raised. I'm not, and I never will be."

I turned and grasped the doorknob, ready to leave. But something made me stop. I glanced back, meeting her gaze one last time.

"Losing someone isn't the end. You may not see it now, but there are still people who care about you. Or maybe someone out there could completely change your perspective, your life—someone you just haven't met yet."

Ephera's face flashed in my mind. She had been that person for me. When I lost everything at seventeen—when my family was ripped away—I had every reason to give up. To end it all. I won't lie; there were times I thought about it. But giving in wasn't who I was. It wasn't how I was raised by dad and mom.

"If you think a part of you died 'that' day, then choose a moment—a day, an hour, even a second—to mark your rebirth. Accept it. Start over. I swear, you'll begin to see things differently."

With those final words, I stepped out and closed the door behind me, leaving her.

I had a mother to save.