I Am The Game's Villain

A few days had passed since Valachia's victory over the Blood Elves of Elashor Sarkian.

After the aftermath unexpectedly intoxicating yet undeniably toxic with Elizabeth, I allowed myself a brief respite. The next morning, I departed.

Before leaving, I ensured that Cylien and Rodolf were entrusted with the care of the captured Blood Elves. I explicitly instructed them to prevent mistreatment or execution by the Valachia Knights, a precaution I felt compelled to take. To my relief, Elizabeth accepted my request with a nod of understanding. I also had a brief yet pointed discussion with Priscilla Tepes. However, I refrained from mentioning the selfish promise I had made. Priscilla would have likely disapproved, and I saw no reason to burden her with it. Instead, I kept my words simple, relayed the key events, and left without further elaboration.

I had given Edryn and the others my word: I would bring them the Seed of Eden so they could cultivate their own Tree of Eden. A promise made in earnest, one I intended to fulfill.

The whereabouts of the Seed were no mystery to me. It resided in the possession of Leora Raven, passed down as an heirloom from her family. That was, of course, until she married James Raven. If the events of the game aligned with reality in this matter, she had likely entrusted the Seed to Alicia, her daughter, for safekeeping.

I had already sought information about Alicia's location, subtly probing Priscilla for answers. She had revealed that Alicia was near Zestella's borders, embroiled in the conflict there. The revelation left me pondering how Alicia had managed to secure her family's approval—or whether she had simply ignored their demands of staying away from the war to follow her own path.
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Regardless, I needed to find her. Yet, that was only half the battle. Convincing Alicia to relinquish the Seed would be another challenge entirely, especially since it was tied to memories her mother had forbidden her from sharing. The thought alone was enough to make my head throb painfully.

But Alicia could wait. First, I had to address another pressing matter. Freyja.

It was time to claim my reward, though the thought of confronting her filled me with quite fright. Should I be direct and demand the release of my mother? The possibility of Freyja obliterating me with Brísingamen for my audacity loomed large in my mind.

Damn it. I had no idea how to pull this off.

"Any ideas, Cleenah?" I muttered under my breath, careful to keep my voice low. I was walking among the remnants of the Blood Elf army, those who had managed to escape. To maintain my cover, I had slipped into their ranks, blending in with their worn and weary faces. We were on our way to report to someone named Grukel.

Despite the tense atmosphere, I could feel the eyes of the Blood Elf Commanders occasionally flickering toward me. They knew who I was—or rather, who I served. As Freyja's bodyguard, I wasn't likely to face the consequences of their failure. That privilege would fall squarely on their shoulders.

[<Well, I do have an idea, but you might not like it.>]

"Let's hear it," I said.

[<I could make Freyja drop her guard for a short moment. During that window, you'd have the chance to take her necklace.>]

"Wait, you can do that?" I asked, blinking in surprise. "Why didn't you mention this earlier?"

[<Because…using my abilities against another Goddess of Beauty—especially one who also governs Love and Desire—goes against a sort of… unspoken rule. Let's just say we avoid using our charms on each other.>]

"What do you mean by 'charms?'" I asked, having a bad feeling.

[<You see, Edward, Freyja is currently in a mortal body. That makes her weaker than usual. I could potentially use my charm to make her… susceptible to you. Just for a split second.>]

"..."

[<All I'm asking is for you to use that moment to take Brísingamen.>]

So that was what she meant by making Freyja drop her guard. I had to admit, the logic was sound, but the method…

My face twisted into a conflicted grimace. The idea of exploiting a moment of vulnerability, even one artificially induced, left a bitter taste in my mouth. It was manipulative after all. But at the same time, it was likely the only way.

Fine, it wasn't like I was planning to keep Brísingamen. I just needed it long enough to free my mother. After that, I'd return it to Freyja.

"Alright," I finally said. "But are you sure this will work?"

[<Absolutely! Don't forget, I'm a Goddess of Beauty as well. No mortal can resist my charm, even if it's borrowed. It'll only last for a fraction of a moment, but that should be enough for you to act.>]

For once, Cleenah's narcissism was oddly reassuring.

Still, I needed to shake off these doubts and focus on the task at hand.

Where was Grukel? The Blood Elves had practically begged me to explain what had happened, so I'd brief them. Perhaps this would also give me a chance to check on Alvara.

I couldn't help but reflect on how harsh I'd been with her before. My words had been cutting, but they were meant for her sake. Blinded by vengeance for so long, she'd risked her life recklessly, endangering not only herself but those around her. Someone needed to say it, even if it hurt.

The towering spires of Utopia's central tower loomed ahead as I approached. As I stepped inside, the quiet hum of activity surrounded me—guards patrolling, messengers hurrying about.

I had barely taken a few steps when my instincts flared. Without thinking, I slipped behind a nearby pillar.

Durathiel Ruvelion.

He was speaking with an older man who leaned heavily on a cane.

"Kamarel's death is a tragedy, Grukel," Durathiel said.

The old man—Grukel, apparently—nodded, his expression conflicted. "My grandson was strong, but perhaps too reckless. Still, he faced a superior opponent at Dolphis. I've heard it wasn't even the King who defeated him."

"Kamarel's failure must be rectified immediately," Durathiel replied. "Dolphis must fall. Only then can we proceed to the Olphean Kingdom and the Moonfangs."

Grukel's eyes widened slightly before he chuckled dryly. "As you wish, Your Majesty. I shall offer you Dolphis. You needn't worry."

Durathiel nodded, his gaze turning to Grukel. "The Tower can manage itself, but before you leave, ensure the guards around the Teraquin Princess are reinforced. She's no longer a threat, but we can't afford to underestimate her kind."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

With that, the two parted ways, their footsteps fading into the distance.

What the hell?

Alvara is no longer a threat?

What did that mean?

That idiot.

Did she actually attack him?

I had warned her!

I clenched my fists.

I moved quickly to the nearest elevator, pressing the button for her floor.

Please, just don't lose control right now.

Once I reached her floor, I immediately noticed two guards stationed outside her door.

I steadied my breath and approached them calmly.

"Her Highness Freya Ruvelion sends me," I said, holding out my royal emblem.

One of the guards narrowed his eyes. "His Majesty has forbidden anyone to enter—"

"Do you wish to incur the Princess's ire?" I interrupted coldly.

They exchanged hesitant glances before reluctantly stepping aside.

I knocked on the door once, loud enough to announce my presence. "Princess Freyja, it's me—Loki. I'm entering," I called out, twisting the doorknob.

The door wouldn't budge.

I paused, glancing at the guards. Their indifferent stances made it clear they had no intention of assisting me.

Had she barricaded it from the inside?

With a low growl, I braced myself against the door, pushing harder. The resistance began to wane under the force, and with one final slam of my shoulder, the door gave way.

The sight that greeted me froze me in place. Slowly, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.

Chaos.

Utter destruction.

The room was in shambles. Furniture lay shattered across the floor, vases reduced to shards, books torn and scattered, and lamps toppled over like forgotten relics.

But it was the walls that seized my attention.

The pristine white surface was streaked with blood, smears and splatters marking the aftermath of a violent outburst. Deep, crimson-stained indentations marred the walls, as though someone had struck them with bloody fists. Even the thick glass of the large window bore the evidence of her fury, though it remained unscathed. The walls, however, were caved in at various points, blood seeping into the cracks.

I moved silently, my steps following a faint trail of blood droplets leading toward the bedroom.

The bedroom was an even greater mess. The disarray was overwhelming—broken furniture, overturned bedding, and debris strewn everywhere.

At the center of it all, Alvara lay crumpled on the ground.

Her once-mint green hair hung in wild disarray, tangled and matted, framing her pale, lifeless face. Her dress was stained with streaks of blood, her arms limp at her sides.

When my gaze fell to her hands, I grimaced. They were battered and bloodied, the skin raw and torn. She must have struck the walls again and again, heedless of the damage to herself.

But something more troubling caught my attention—the absence of her usual oppressive mana.

One look was enough to confirm it. The affliction of the Sin of Sloth clung to her. Her once overwhelming presence had withered, replaced by an overwhelming void.

I stood in the doorway, silent and motionless, staring at the broken figure before me.

"Alvara…"