I Am The Game's Villain

"This is the bracelet?" I asked as I turned the delicate piece over in my fingers.

Viessa gave me a gentle smile.

"Yes," she said softly. "This is the one I gave to my little brother. I made it myself."

It was identical to the one wrapped around my own wrist — same elegant braiding, same silver gleam — yet something was missing. Something crucial.

The crystal.

The one that had transported us to the past.

I stared at Viessa's bracelet, my heart sinking as realization dawned. There was no white crystal embedded in it like I had. No faint glow, no pulse of otherworldly power. Just... a bracelet.

What does this mean?

Without the crystal, how were we supposed to return to the present?

Were we... stuck here?

Viessa tilted her head slightly, still watching me.

"It's strange," she muttered, a note of confusion in her voice. "The one you have really does look just like this one. It's almost like... I made that too. Maybe we met in the past before and I gave it to you without remembering?"

I shook my head slowly and handed the bracelet back.

"No. I don't think that's it. You didn't give me mine."

I hesitated.

"Do you have something like a white crystal? Something that might have been part of it?"

Viessa blinked, her expression turning puzzled.

"A white crystal? No… I don't think so. Why?"

She didn't know. Or maybe… she didn't know yet.

Looks like I'd need to speak to Freyja after all. She was the only one who might have the answers I needed. But that meant finding the Prophetess.

I glanced back at Viessa.

"Viessa, can you help me? I need to see the Prophetess."

"Eh?" Her eyes widened slightly. She definitely hadn't expected that request.

"Why do you want to meet the Prophetess?"

Before I could respond, a familiar — and unwelcome — voice cut in behind me.

"Why are you so eager to see the Prophetess?"

Ernest stepped forward, his gaze sharp with suspicion. His narrowed eyes bored into me like I was hiding something.

I rolled my eyes.

"Just trying to figure out whether you'll die a virgin or not," I said with a smirk.

There it was.

Yet another important conversation, interrupted at the worst possible moment.

"You—!"

Ernest's face flushed red, eyes wide in flustered frustration. Got him. He was definitely still a virgin, and probably saving himself for Viessa — not that he was very subtle about it.

Ignoring his glare, Ernest turned back to Viessa with a tight expression.

"The council is about to start," he said.

"Ah, right!" Viessa said, snapping out of her thoughts.

She turned back to me with a smile.

"You should come too, Edward. You're one of our allies now, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I replied, nodding as I followed after them.

"And stop bullying Ernest!"

"Ugh! Stop pulling my ear!"

…

…

The council of the Resistance was held deep within the hidden chambers of Teraquin Castle — a dark, secluded space protected by thick walls and veiled entrances. Around the heavy stone table sat high-ranking nobles and battle-worn knights. Most of their faces were unfamiliar to me, but I spotted a few I recognized — the Heroes, and Amael's ever-present trio.

Ernest stepped forward.

"We're here today to discuss the attack and destruction of our resistance base in Dolphis," he said.

"Our forces were ambushed by a vampire army led by Skaran — one of the Blood Lords under the Witch."

The moment he said the name Blood Lord, the room went cold. Murmurs died instantly. Even the most hardened knights visibly tensed.

So, someone on Lakalros' level… or worse.

"Skaran is currently still camped there," Ernest continued. "He's made no move since the attack. It's like he's… waiting."

"It's bait," Viessa said plainly, arms crossed.

Ernest nodded slowly.

"It very likely is. But even so…" He looked around the room, locking eyes with the seated knights and his companions.

"I believe we should take that bait — and crush him."

"Y–Your Highness?" An older man stood up, visibly rattled, his voice trembling with disbelief.

Around the room, a tense silence took hold. Several others shifted uneasily in their seats, exchanging uncertain glances. The mere idea of walking willingly into a trap set by a Blood Lord — one of the Witch's elite — was borderline suicidal in their eyes.

"I support Ernest's proposal," Gruna said, raising her hand with confidence.

"We should take that bait — and crush the Blood Lords where they stand."

"Y–Your Highness," the older man said again, his words cautious, almost pleading.

"With all due respect… You've faced the Blood Lords before. The toll was devastating—"

"Yes," Ernest cut in sharply, "we've suffered heavy losses. But we are not the same as we were back then. Since those battles, we've grown stronger, smarter. We've survived. We've adapted."

"Well said, Ernest!" Cedric chimed in from across the table, nodding with a cocky grin.

Ernest turned to the two who'd remained quiet thus far — Viessa and Cleara.

"What do you think?" He asked them.

Viessa gave a soft smile.

"I trust you, Ernest," she said simply.

Cleara remained silent for a moment, then spoke in her usual composed tone.

"Who will be dispatched to deal with Skaran?"

It was a fair question. Sending all the Heroes would be overkill — and foolish, if it was truly a trap.

"I was thinking of assigning Gruna and Cedric for this task," Ernest said, glancing toward the two.

"What?! I don't need Cedric!" Gruna huffed, folding her arms. "I can take care of that bastard myself!"

"Don't underestimate him, Gruna," Viessa said gently.

"Even if you defeat Skaran, someone still needs to lead the troops. Cedric's support isn't a sign of weakness. It's strategy."

Gruna clicked her tongue but relented with a reluctant nod.

"Fine. But I'm putting him down this time."

"Hell yeah!" Cedric grinned, slamming his fist into his open palm. "I've been waiting for a rematch with that fucker. This time, he's mine."

Judging by the fire in Cedric's eyes, it was clear Skaran had handed him a brutal loss in the past.

Still, I wasn't too worried. From what I remembered of the history books, the Heroes had taken down the Blood Lords. This was part of their story — a fight they were destined to win.

"Good," Ernest said with a satisfied nod. "Now, moving on."

He took a breath and glanced at the others in the room, expression turning even more serious.

"We've received troubling reports from the Olphean Kingdom's borders. Soldiers have been vanishing without a trace. I fear for the safety of the Prophetess — and I suspect a Blood Lord may be involved."

He turned to Viessa and Cleara.

"I want both of you to investigate. Secure the area. Ensure her safety."

"Understood," Viessa said with a smile and a nod.

Cleara responded with a quiet nod as well.

I stepped forward.

"I'll go with them," I said, inserting myself into the conversation without hesitation.

All eyes turned to me.

Some curious.

Some skeptical.

Most… unconvinced.

Ernest raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I'm your ally," I replied.

That simple answer, however, didn't sit well with one of the generals — a man with a long, scarred face and a sharp glare.

"An ally?" He barked, standing from his seat. "You came here dragging two Vampires behind you and attacked our people — and you expect us to believe you're on our side, even if you're Human?"

Ah. So that's where the hostility was coming from. Alicia and Amaya — my companions — had made me a controversial figure among the Resistance's brass indeed.

I turned toward him, locking eyes.

"I said I'm your ally. I won't repeat myself to every random soldier that barks at me." My voice dropped coldly. "But let me make something clear. I'm not your friend. I have my own goals — ones that just happen to align with yours. You should be thankful for that. So how about you sit down, and act like the good little third-rate general you are."

A few gasps echoed around the room.

The man's face flushed deep red.

"W–What did you just—!"

"Commander Barden, please," Viessa's voice rang out before things escalated.

She stood between us..

"Edward is an ally. He killed a Blood Lord. That alone makes him far more valuable than most of the men here. Doubting him is not only disrespectful — it's foolish."

The general stiffened, then sat down with clenched teeth, clearly still fuming.

"Y–Yes, Your Highness," he muttered, swallowing his pride.

"And Edward... why do you want to come with us?" Viessa asked, her eyes settling on me with a searching gaze.

"I'm worried about the Prophetess," I said smoothly, not even blinking as I told the lie.

In truth, I couldn't have cared less about the Prophetess herself. What I wanted was access — to the Tree, to Freyja. But telling them that would only raise more suspicion.

Unfortunately, it looked like no one was buying it.

Ernest, Viessa, and even Lisandra were grimacing, each of them reading through my words like an open book.

I sighed, giving a small shrug.

"Look, I mean no harm to her. I just want to speak to the Prophetess — that's all. If she's in danger, I'll do everything in my power to protect her. I will help out."

That, at least, was true. If she got hurt, my chances of getting what I needed dropped to zero.

Viessa's expression softened. It seemed my half-truth finally landed.

"It's fine, Ernest," she said with a reassuring smile. "I trust Edward. I'll keep a close eye on him."

Ernest looked like he wanted to argue further, but finally gave a reluctant nod.

"Alright…" he muttered.

"Don't worry," I added dryly. "I've already got enough wives."

Ernest snapped upright like he'd been jabbed.

"Why the hell are you telling me that?!"

"Because you're clearly worried about something ridiculous," I replied with a casual shrug.

Viessa tilted her head, curious.

"Worried about what, exactly?"

"N–Nothing!" Ernest retorted, his face flushing slightly. "Forget it. You should all get moving!"

Smooth, Ernest.

After that awkward little interlude, he moved on quickly — launching into discussion of their broader military strategy. He began assigning defensive positions to various commanders and updating everyone on the other strategic points that needed attention. It was a well-oiled operation.

Despite my initial assumptions, I had to admit — Ernest was impressive. Efficient. Confident. He was the commander-in-chief of the Resistance, and from the way everyone paid attention when he spoke, it was clear he'd earned that title. He wasn't some pampered noble playing soldier — he was the real thing. Probably why he stayed off the frontlines most of the time, instead traveling between headquarters to coordinate the Resistance's fractured forces.

But I wasn't sticking around to play military games.

With my decision made, I turned and stepped out of the war room.

In the corridor, I spotted Amael standing with Lisandra and Sylvia. I headed toward them.

"You planning to stay here?" I asked, eyeing them skeptically.

"No," Amael answered. "We're heading to the Olphean Kingdom too."

I narrowed my eyes.

"What are you? My stalkers?"

I frowned, not bothering to hide my irritation.

"If you're going to follow me, at least do a better job of hiding it. This is getting way too obvious."

Amael chuckled softly.

"We simply decided we'd be more useful over there. Nothing more."

"Right," I snorted. "Sure. Let's pretend I believe that."

I turned my attention to Lisandra. She stood with her arms crossed.

"What?" she said. "Do you have something to say to me?"

I hesitated.

Part of me wanted to apologize. But the words wouldn't come out.

Was I really this prideful? Since when did I start clinging to my ego like it was armor?

After a beat, I sighed and looked her in the eye.

"I just wanted to say you looked... kind of hot. And, you know... age doesn't really matter."

Lisandra blinked, visibly stunned.

"W–What the hell are you saying?!" She stuttered, taken completely off guard.

"You were upset that I called you old, right?" I continued, shrugging like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"T–That's not—!"

"Then I'm telling you the truth. You're very beautiful and hot Princess. Prickly but that is what makes your charm. Besides age doesn't matter to me. Hell, I'm planning to marry a woman who's over ten thousand years old, so what's a few decades or centuries?"

Lisandra opened and closed her mouth, red-faced, clearly unprepared for that kind of honesty.

From beside her, Sylvia gave me a disapproving look.

"You're terrible at apologizing."

Amael just laughed.

"I have to agree."

"Shut up."