I Am The Game's Villain

After the long and rather exhausting conversation between the Olphean King, Viessa, and the others finally wrapped up, everyone began to disperse with a clear goal in mind—prepare to leave and start tracking down Rulana.

I adjusted my clothes, already mentally plotting the search route, when I noticed Amaya standing off to the side. She wasn't moving, just… waiting. Her posture was still and calm, but her eyes locked onto me the moment I glanced her way.

"What are you doing?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.

"I'm coming as well," she replied without hesitation.

I shook my head. "No. You'd better stay here—it's safer."

The truth was, if Rulana saw Amaya, she'd almost certainly try to take her back. And I wasn't in the mood to fight that battle while juggling everything else.

Amaya's gaze sharpened, her tone cooling as she stepped forward. "Nowhere is safe for me."

I looked at her for a moment. "I get that you're the Vessel of the Vampire Witch, and that you've got her power. But… can you actually fight?"

Her silence was telling a lot.

As I suspected, she didn't truly know. She might have inherited the Vampire Witch's knowledge and fragments of her abilities, but without fully awakening—something only the original Vampire Witch in Valachia could trigger—she wasn't at her full potential. And if that original Witch took over… then Amaya would be gone, replaced entirely.

That was the part I feared most.

"At the very least, I know you don't want to become the Vampire Witch, and you don't want to go back to Valachia. Am I right?"

She said nothing—again.

"Just stay here. I'll handle Rulana and come back quickly," I said, stepping past her.

But her hand shot out and grasped mine.

I turned back, finding her eyes on mine. "Are you going to leave me?"

I arched a brow.

Her voice was cold, her stare even colder, yet beneath it I caught a flicker of something raw—vulnerability. It was faint, buried under layers of guarded walls, but it was there. I'd gotten good at reading people's emotions through their masks, and Amaya's mask was one of the thickest I'd seen.

"What do you think of me?" I asked her, genuinely curious.

I didn't think she loved me—not really. But she was attached to me, probably because I'd treated her better than anyone else had since her mother's death, and because I'd torn her away from Lakalros. She had no one else, nowhere else to belong, and maybe that made me the closest thing to an anchor in her life.

"My darling," she said suddenly.

"…What?" I blurted, caught completely off guard.

For a moment, her face and voice overlapped painfully with Elizabeth's in my mind.

"Are you my darling?" She asked again, her grip on my arm tightening.

I gulped slightly.

No—this wasn't the same. Elizabeth had also had flashes of the Vampire Witch's memories, and maybe that 'darling' was bleeding through from those.

Elizabeth and Amaya had similarities, yes… but they were not the same person.

I loved Elizabeth. But Amaya? I cared for her—deeply—but was that only because she reminded me of someone I'd already lost? I wasn't sure. All I knew was that I didn't want to repeat the same mistakes.

When I rejected Elizabeth out of my own indecision, I'd lived with regret until the bitter end thinking we could have done better.

With Amaya, I didn't care how strange our current relationship was—I just knew I didn't want to lose her, not in the same way.

So… was she really safer here, or by my side?

I closed my eyes briefly, sighed, and made my decision. "Alright. You can come with me."

Her cold expression softened—just slightly, but it was enough to notice.

"Now, let go of my hand," I said.

She released me, but her gaze drifted past my shoulder.

I turned to follow her line of sight—only to find the Prophetess standing there, watching us.

"Mael."

I turned toward her, brow slightly furrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"You seem to want to ask me something… so I came," she said.

I blinked. She wasn't wrong — I had been staring at her earlier, wondering how to bring it up — but the fact that she noticed so easily made me pause.

Well, since she came here…

"Yes. I need you to take me to the interior of the Holy Tree. I have to speak with Freyja," I said, no hesitation in my tone.

Her expression shifted subtly, lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. "I don't think meeting Freyja right now is a good idea."

The way she said it made my eyes narrow. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Because Freyja has to meet you during the Utopian War Loki," she replied.

Her words froze me in place.

My mouth opened, searching for the right words, but they came out clumsy. "You… know I come from the future?"

Amaya, who had been quietly standing nearby, glanced at me at those words, but I kept my eyes on the Prophetess.

She simply nodded. "I have seen prophecies about you long before you appeared. I've glimpsed the Utopian War… and the Blood Moon Festival that will come."

"How's that even possible? The Prophetess in my era is nowhere near this precise," I said, my voice tinged with disbelief.

Claudia wasn't entirely useless — she had warned me about plenty of dangers — but this woman spoke of visions that went far beyond anything Claudia had ever hinted at. She'd seen events half a millennium in the future, and a festival that, for me, hadn't even happened yet?

"If you're worried about getting back to your own time, you shouldn't be," she said lightly. "Your fate is already sealed for the Blood Moon Festival. Until then… you won't die."

I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be comforting. Claudia had warned me before, but hearing it confirmed by another Prophetess — and one so confident — hit differently.

Still…

"So… I'll find a way to go back to the future with Alicia?" I asked cautiously.

She only smiled in response.

I didn't like that smile. Not one bit.

"Answer me," I said, my voice dropping a shade colder.

"I can only confirm your fate. As for others… that depends on you, Mael."

I clenched my fists. "Whatever. Then when will I find the way back? And shouldn't you just tell me since you know the future? It'd save a lot of time."

"Unfortunately, I cannot," she said, shaking her head.

"Why? Because you have to 'respect the Prophecies' or some nonsense?" I asked with a snort.

"Indeed. But not only that." She chuckled softly, then her gaze sharpened, pinning me in place. "You still have things to accomplish here, in the past. When the time comes, you will be allowed to return… and meet your final Prophecy, Mael."

"Final Prophecy, huh?" I let out a short, humorless laugh. "So my death is already carved in stone, is that what you're telling me? The Prophetess in my era said the same damn thing — even begged me to leave Sancta Vedelia."

"But you won't leave Sancta Vedelia," she replied, her voice calm, almost detached. "That is also already written."

"Yeah, maybe," I admitted with a shrug, though my tone hardened. "But I won't die."

Our eyes locked. My words weren't just denial — they were a promise.

I didn't care about some annoying, ominous prophecy. I wasn't going to keel over because fate had scribbled my name into some tragic ending. I'd made promises — to Layla, and to more people than I could count — that I'd find them and reunite with them. I wasn't going to break those.

"You cannot defy a Fateful Prophecy, unfortunately," the Prophetess said, insisting.

"Then I'll find another way," I shot back, not even blinking.

She chuckled softly, an amused glimmer in her eyes. "You are interesting. From what I've seen of you — what you've accomplished and what you've become…" Her gaze lowered to my right arm, where the emblem of the Holy Tree of Ymir was etched into my skin behind my sleeves.

"You said I had things to accomplish here. How about telling me what they are so I can get them over with quickly?" I asked.

But she only shook her head. "You will follow your own path and make your own decisions — and those will lead you to your fate."

I frowned. "I don't get it. Was I… fated to come back to the past?"

"That's not the way to put it," she said slowly. "But you had to be here during the Blood Moon War, yes. What you do here, however, may differ— according to your choices."

"Different from what? It's my first time here," I said, my brow furrowing deeper.

"You're asking too many questions, Edward," she replied with an almost playful tilt of her head.

"Yeah, I'm asking a lot of questions because I don't understand a fucking thing that's happening to me," I snapped, glaring at her. "I'm sick of being manipulated, sick of dancing to the tune of some prophecy. No matter what I do, it feels like I'm following a path someone else laid out. I want to be free of that. All of it."

Her smile faded slightly. "Unfortunately, as the Vessel of Samael Eveningstar, you cannot escape your destiny. Either you will die without fulfilling your role, or you will 'die' and be reborn as Samael Eveningstar. In both cases, the decisions that determine your fate are set in stone. However…" She paused, her lips curling into a faint smile again. "I suppose you do have a preference between the two, don't you?"

Yeah. There was no question.

Becoming Samael Eveningstar was the worst possible ending — the exact one Nemes wanted for me. If I had to choose, I'd rather die outright than become what they wanted.

But…

My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms. Her words echoed in my head, wrapping tighter with each repetition.

No choices.

No control.

Every major decision in my life — already decided. Because I was Samael's Vessel, the Gods feared Samael. And in their fear, they meddled — twisting my surroundings, nudging events, bending people — all to push me toward their desired outcome.

"This sucks," I muttered bitterly, before I turned on my heel and started walking away.

"Edward."

Her voice stopped me mid-step.

I turned halfway. "What?"

"You may have many powerful enemies," the Prophetess said softly, "but you are also loved — equally — by powerful people. People ready to bend the rules for you."

"Yeah. 'Loved.'" My voice came out flat, bitter. "They're dead."

I didn't wait for her to answer and left.

Amaya fell into step beside me without a word. She didn't press for details about the conversation, and I was grateful. Explaining it would've been a headache — my situation was already tangled enough without trying to untangle it for someone else.

Still, I found my gaze drifting to her as we walked.

"Where would you go," I asked suddenly, "if I went back to the present?"

Amaya glanced at me, expressionless. "I will follow you."

That made me laugh a little and I shook my head, eyes forward again.

***

After Edward disappeared into the distance, the old Prophetess remained still, her gaze lingering on the empty space where he'd stood moments ago.

"You spoke too much."

The voice drifted in with the measured sound of footsteps. From the shadows, a woman emerged.

Cleara Indi Zestella.

She came to stand beside the Prophetess, arms crossed, her eyes following the path Edward had taken.

The Prophetess turned, and in one graceful motion, lowered herself to her knees.

"I apologize, Greatness Khione."

Khione's gaze swept over her. "What do you think of him?" She asked after a moment.

"I find Edward's situation… pitiful," the Prophetess said. "The boy has endured more than most could bear."

Khione's attention flicked toward the empty corridor. "Do you think he will give in to Nemesis?"

The Prophetess hesitated, her brows drawing slightly together. "That… is hard to say. He moves forward because of certain people who remain by his side. But if he were to lose them as well… I cannot be sure."

She spoke cautiously — truthfully. She knew little about Samael or the other forces at play; her words were only the impression she'd gathered. But the fact that Khione had taken over her Vessel at this moment… it could only mean Edward's situation held a significance she didn't fully grasp.

"I don't understand…" Khione suddenly whispered, almost to herself.

The Prophetess raised her gaze. There was a faint crease between Khione's brows.

"I don't understand why Lady Nevia asked me to watch over him…"