I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 448  [Event] [Semester-Exam At Vanadias] [36] Full Marks!

"I don't want you to die, Alvara," Amael finally said.

"..." Alvara, who had always met every situation with usual calm, was left speechless for once. "I want you to live. The best revenge, the truest defiance, is to spit in the face of the destiny that has tried to break you... that has brought all this misfortune."

"I won't accept the fate reserved for me," he continued.

'Yeah.'

Whatever destiny had been written for him—whether it was to become Samael, or something even worse—he rejected it. He would not let the chains of fate bind him. His life, which had never truly been his, would now be something he owned.

"What... about you?" He murmured, his words growing slurred as the exhaustion claimed him. His eyes began to flutter shut, the last remnants of his strength fading fast. "Go and... make your life your own."

He swayed, as his body leaned forward, and with a final exhale, Amael collapsed, his body hitting the ground.

-Thud!

His chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths, and though his consciousness slipped away, there was a strange peace in his expression.

Alvara's gaze lingered on Amael, the faint flicker of life still present in his battered form. Her expression was clouded with conflict, her emotions veiled beneath a mask of cold indifference. Yet, something stirred within her, a discomfort she hadn't felt in years, a feeling she could neither identify nor shake.

His words rang faintly in her mind. She couldn't make sense of them entirely, but it was as though she understood the meaning behind them, as though their meaning struck something deeper than mere language could express.

How long had it been since a man had unsettled her like this?

Worse still, how long had it been since a Human—no, a Half—had managed to evoke such turmoil within her? Never, she realized. Not once in her long existence had a Half like him stirred any feeling other than disdain. And now, the very notion felt absurd, impossible for the woman she had become.

She could not understand him. Could not comprehend why this Half-Human, this being that embodied everything she had despised for so many years, was making her feel anything at all.

"Suit yourself... if you have the will to live," Alvara muttered as she cast a fang at Amael's feet, the dull glint of it catching the moonlight before landing in front of his dying body. The remedy was there, but in his current state, it was unclear whether he even had the strength to make the remedy.

Yet, Alvara seemed unbothered, or so she told herself. She didn't care whether he lived or died. His fate should mean nothing to her.

But then, as she turned to leave, she heard it.

"I want you to live."

Amael's earlier words rang once more in her mind.

She froze, her footsteps halted mid-step, her heart unexpectedly gripped by an unwelcome memory.

His words overlapped with another voice from her past, a voice she had long since buried. Leena's. The same words, spoken just before her cruel and violent death, played back in her mind. Leena, the one she couldn't save. Leena, who had believed in her until the bitter end.

Alvara clenched her fists, shaking her head as if trying to rid herself of the memory.

"He's just a Half, like all the others…" She whispered to herself. A Half, she repeated, reinforcing the barrier she'd built over the years. He was not to be trusted, no more than the Humans who had caused her so much pain. Amael's very existence was a reminder of the impurity she detested, the embodiment of everything she had hated and continued to hate.

So why, then, did his words cause a knot to tighten in her chest? Why did she feel this unease crawling under her skin?

Even when Connor, a man who had tried to soothe her with countless heartwarming speeches, had spoken to her, she'd felt nothing. His words had bounced off her like raindrops on stone, leaving her completely unmoved. But now… this. The discomfort was undeniable, and she despised it. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"..." With a graceful motion, Alvara extended her hand, and at her silent gesture, the earth responded. Vines erupted from the soil, their emerald tendrils snaking toward the fang lying discarded on the ground. One of the vines coiled around it delicately, extracting the venom that dripped like liquid fire from its sharp tip. Meanwhile, other vines slithered toward a nearby flower—one known for its potent healing properties. The delicate petals were carefully shredded into fine fragments as the vines crushed and reduced them to tiny pieces, extracting every last drop of their medicinal essence.

In the space between her hands, Alvara crafted a small pot from intertwined plants, their stems and leaves woven into a makeshift bowl. With precise control, she guided the venom into the pot, where it pooled like liquid amethyst. The mashed petals soon followed, blending seamlessly into the mix. She added a few drops of water, the cool liquid causing a faint mist to rise as it met the venom's potency. Her vines stirred the concoction with impossible speed, a blur of green as the ingredients were mixed into a smooth, viscous substance.

When she was finished, the remedy shimmered in the dim light, taking on a deep, lustrous purple hue.

Without a word, one of her vines shot out toward Amael's limp form, wrapping itself around his waist with practiced ease. The tendril hoisted his body upright, his limbs dangling like a broken marionette. Another vine coiled itself around his face, gently but firmly prying open his mouth. The bowl containing the remedy was lifted toward his lips by yet another vine, its leafy tendrils tilting it just enough to pour the thick, purple liquid down his throat. Amael, too weak to resist or comprehend, swallowed the entire contents, his throat working automatically as the potion flowed into him.

"If you die after that long speech, it will be embarrassing for both you and me." She let her words hang in the air for a moment, her eyes flickering over his barely conscious form. "Try to survive first, if you really mean what you said. Don't make foolish promises about saving anyone when you can't even save yourself, Olphean."

With that said, Alvara spun on her heels trying to leave.

"That was unexpected"

Alvara whirled around, her eyes widening in disbelief at the sight before her.

Standing before Amael's slumped, broken form was a woman. No, not just a woman—she was breathtaking, a vision of beauty so pure and captivating that even Alvara, who had long ceased to care for such things, found herself entranced. From the depths of her very soul, she felt drawn to this woman in a way she couldn't explain.

The woman's long, glossy green hair cascaded down her back like the leaves of an ancient tree, shimmering with a faint glow in the dim moonlight. Her eyes—impossibly pure and green—stared back at Alvara with a calm neutrality, devoid of any malice or judgment. She wore a robe of pristine white, adorned with golden ornaments that swayed gently in the night breeze.

"Who... are you?" Alvara asked warily. Her hand glowed with a radiant gold light, as she readied herself to attack. The vines that responded to her will rustled menacingly at her feet, coiled and prepared to lash out at the mysterious figure before her. Cleenah gazed back at Alvara calmly. She was unfazed by the threat.

"Your mana... and genes," Cleenah began, her brows furrowed, "are irritatingly reminiscent of Freyja. Much to my distaste, I might add." She sighed, shaking her head in exasperation as if discussing some mild inconvenience.

Alvara's eyes narrowed further, her posture still guarded. The stranger's words made little sense, yet the mention of Freyja—a name she knew well—stoked a deep sense of unease. Who was this woman? And how did she know so much?

"But..." Cleenah's attention drifted downward, her gaze settling on Amael, whose breathing had begun to stabilize. An affectionate smile curved her lips as she looked at him. "It seems Edward has taken a bit of liking to you." Her voice softened as she spoke to the unconscious Amael, though her words seemed more for Alvara's ears. "He's been feeling rather lonely lately, especially with Layla far away—she knew everything about him. But you... you share something with him. Perhaps it's that loneliness that draws him to you. Birds of a feather, as they say. Am I wrong?"

Alvara's lip curled slightly, as she snickered slightly."Are you with him? One of his women, perhaps?"

Cleenah didn't flinch at the insinuation. Instead, she stroked her chin thoughtfully, as though considering the notion for a brief moment. "Thankfully, your face and personality are different from hers," she mused, her tone almost casual. "Much appreciated, really. You've inherited Freya's bloodline, but her Soul Twin, in Elyon Kiora... well, she inherited all the irritating parts. I see it now."

Alvara was lost hearing Cleenah speaking to herself.

Elyon Kiora was the Capital of the High Elves, that's all she knew.

But whoever this woman was, she clearly had divine origins. Alvara's wariness only grew.

"What do you want?" Alvara finally asked. Her eyes never left the woman, who by all appearances was undoubtedly a goddess.

Cleenah's smile softened as she knelt beside Amael. She reached out, gently stroking his face. "When I'm gone," she said softly, her voice carrying a strange mixture of sadness and warmth, "he will be very lonely. Can you look after him, Freydis?"

Alvara's breath hitched slightly. For a moment, she was dumbfounded. But then, her expression twisted into one of annoyance.

"Hah? You think I'm going to babysit a Half?" She spat, her usual bluntness returning in full force. Her tone dripped with disdain as she snarled, "I have no interest in looking after some half-blood."

Cleenah merely smiled, unfazed by Alvara's outburst. There was something almost playful in the way her lips curved. Rising to her feet with a fluid motion, the goddess gave a nod of approval. "I'm giving you full marks."

"What?" Alvara's eyes narrowed further.

"Be glad," Cleenah continued, her smile widening just a bit. "Only Ephera, Layla and little Maria have ever earned my full marks before now!" She pouted slightly, as if the thought of bestowing such a high score was a rare and precious gift, then—without another word—vanished into the night, her form dissipating like green mist before Alvara's irritated gaze.