I Am The Game's Villain

The battlefield trembled.

-BOOOOM!

A powerful shockwave ripped through the field, shaking the very earth between the Celesta Kingdom and the Arvatra Empire. This stretch of land had been chosen again and again throughout history, a cursed ground where countless wars between the two rival nations had left scars deep in the soil.

High above that scarred land, two figures clashed in midair. Sparks, flames, and lightning lit up the night.

One of them was a woman with flowing, dark blue hair, Princess Lisandra Arvatra, heir to the Empire that bore her name.

Opposite her floated a figure whose beauty and bearing blurred the lines between masculine and feminine. Platinum-blond hair glimmered under the moonlight, framing a face that seemed carved from ice. This was Prince Alphonse Sylvain Celesta of the Celesta Kingdom.

Both of them carried an otherworldly aura.

Their duel raged with such ferocity that even the knights below, warriors hardened by years of bloodshed, dared not fight near them. The two leaders burned too brightly; their battle was a tempest that lesser men would be swallowed whole by. Still, soldiers from both sides couldn't help but pause mid-combat, glancing upward in awe at the spectacle, as if watching gods trade blows.

Lisandra lunged first, her rapier gleaming. "What's wrong, Alphonse? Struggling against a mere princess? And you call yourself a King!" Her mocking voice carried even through the thunder of their blows. With a sharp thrust, her weapon unleashed a wave of searing dark-blue flames that carved the air like a tidal wave of fire.

Sylvain grimaced at her words, lightning crackling across their blade. In an instant, they vanished and reappeared behind Lisandra, sword slicing down in a flash of silver lightning.

Lisandra spun, her rapier intercepting the strike with perfect timing.

-BOOOM!

The collision tore the sky apart. Shockwaves rippled down to the battlefield, flattening tents and tossing men aside like leaves in a storm. And yet, neither fighter yielded.

The duel continued. Minutes blurred into hours. They clashed again and again, flames against lightning, rapier against sword. To those watching from below, it was a fight that seemed endless, a battle that might never see resolution. Finally, as the moon reached its peak, both combatants pulled back, exchanging no words. It was an unspoken agreement. The fight would resume tomorrow.

Both armies retreated for the night.

…

…

In the Celesta camp, fires burned low as soldiers patched wounds and whispered over bowls of soup. The air was heavy with exhaustion, but the talk of the camp was alive with excitement.

"Did you see the fight today?" One knight muttered, eyes wide.

"Of course I did. His Highness and that woman… they're on a completely different level. Like monsters."

"Don't call her strong! Prince Alphonse will crush that evil witch. Just wait!" Another spat, glaring into the fire.

"Easy to say," a third replied with a shrug. "But how many times have they fought now? And neither has won. Makes you wonder…"

They laughed nervously, but beneath their bravado was a truth they didn't dare say aloud: Princess Lisandra was no less fearsome than their own Prince.

And Prince Alphonse — or rather, Alphonse, as they truly were beneath the name — could hear every word. The tents offered no barrier; the voices of her knights reached her ears all too easily.

Of course, she couldn't tell them the truth. That their legendary duel was not fought with the intent to kill. That she and Lisandra, despite the bloody rivalry their nations forced upon them, were holding back every time.

In the eyes of the world, they were sworn enemies. But in truth? They were the closest either of them had to a true friend.

It was a cruel fate. A Princess of Celesta and a Princess of Arvatra — born into roles that demanded they hate each other, fated to spill blood until only one remained standing. The world expected nothing less than one of their deaths to bring an end to the war.

"P–Prince Alphonse!"

Alphonse emerged from her tent, and the nearby knights instantly rose to attention. Their gazes followed her, waiting for orders. But she spoke right after.

"No. I need time alone."

And before they could protest, she vanished into the night.

The sky welcomed her. She flew through the darkness, platinum hair catching the moonlight, her sapphire eyes glowing faintly as the wind brushed her skin. Up here, away from her army, she felt a freedom she could never taste on the battlefield.

The further she flew from camp, the quieter her heart became. She scanned the ground below until her gaze caught the faint glow of a tree engulfed in blue fire.

A small smile spread to her lips. She descended gracefully, landing on the soft earth with the ease of someone who had done this many times before.

Before she could speak, a familiar voice rang out behind her.

"A secret meeting between a man and a woman, out here in the middle of nowhere? People would misunderstand if they saw us like this."

Alphonse turned around, meeting Lisandra's teasing eyes.

"Shut up, Lisandra. And do you really have to burn a tree every single time we meet?" Alphonse asked dryly, arms crossing.

Lisandra's lips curled into a smile. "Can't be helped. That's our little secret cue. You see blue flames, you know it's me."

"That's not a cue, that's practically a beacon," Alphonse retorted, shaking her head. "You're the only one in the world who uses blue fire. One day someone else is going to notice."

Lisandra just shrugged, unconcerned. "Then think of something else, Alphonse. Until then, I'll keep my method."

"Whatever…" Alphonse muttered.

The two of them began walking side by side through the quiet night, as they often did. Away from their armies, away from the weight of crowns and thrones, they could finally speak freely. Their voices softened, their steps in sync, like two childhood friends sneaking out to talk under the stars.

"That annoying Commander Kason won't leave me alone," Lisandra complained, kicking a loose stone across the dirt path. "Always lecturing me, always keeping an eye on me. He really, really hates you, you know?"

"My chancellor despises you as well," Alphonse replied.

"That baldy?" Lisandra scoffed with a wave of her hand. "Please. Who cares what that fossil thinks of me?"

"You won't get a husband with that sharp tongue of yours," Alphonse said.

"Oh, really? You're one to talk." Lisandra's smirk grew sly. "If I recall correctly, aren't you supposed to marry the daughter of Duke Tarmias? I can't wait to see who'll be the one giving birth between the two of you… and how exactly you'll pull that off."

Alphonse shot her a deadly glare.

Lisandra blinked at the lack of reaction, then laughed nervously. "This silence is scaring me a little. Don't tell me… you actually like girls?"

Alphonse rolled her eyes. "Even if I did, you'd still be the last woman in the world I'd ever pick."

"You don't deserve me anyway," Lisandra sniffed proudly.

Her attention was suddenly caught by something ahead. Through the trees, moonlight shimmered across a small pond, its glassy surface reflecting the night sky. Birds darted across the water, their wings glowing faintly in the silver light.

Lisandra's eyes widened in delight. "Oh, wow… how did we miss this place before?" She rushed ahead without waiting for Alphonse, her excitement bubbling like a child's.

Alphonse followed more slowly, but even she had to admit the place was beautiful.

Then, without warning, Lisandra began stripping out of her clothes.

"W–Wait…what are you doing?" Alphonse sputtered, eyes wide.

Lisandra stepped into the pond, completely bare, her dark blue hair cascading down her back as the water lapped around her waist. She looked over her shoulder with a teasing smile. "It's warm. Feels amazing. Come join me, Alphonse."

Alphonse darted a glance around, her face heating. "You're insane. What if someone sees us?"

"You're too shy for your own good," Lisandra pouted, splashing the water with her hand. "It's just us here. Come on."

Alphonse hesitated, torn between irritation and… curiosity. After a moment, she sighed and began unbuttoning her shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons as Lisandra's smirk widened.

But before she could remove more, bubbles disturbed the still water in front of Lisandra. At first, she thought it was just a fish. Then—

-Splash

A figure erupted from beneath the pond's surface.

Both women froze, speechless.

The intruder's broad back glistened under the moonlight as water streamed off his shoulders. Silver hair clung wetly to his neck, reaching just past his shoulders. Slowly, he brushed it back with one hand, turning slightly to glance over his shoulder.

Lisandra's breath caught in her throat. His eyes—those striking, silver eyes—locked with hers for just an instant, and her entire body stiffened.

"Lisandra!" Alphonse's sharp voice broke the moment. Snapping out of her daze, Lisandra yelped and immediately scrambled out of the pond.

"W–What are you doing here?!" She shouted, her voice higher than usual, her face flushed crimson.

The man didn't answer right away. He turned his gaze toward Alphonse instead, water still dripping from his hair, before slowly stepping out of the pond. Thankfully, he wore dark pants, but his bare torso was fully revealed—taut muscles, toned arms, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

Both Lisandra and Alphonse, who had never seen a man so casually bare before, found themselves momentarily frozen, caught off guard by the sight.

The stranger paid them no mind. He walked toward a tree where a shirt hung to dry, picked it up, and began slipping it on, fastening the buttons one by one. His voice was calm, low, and slightly rough as he finally spoke.

"That should be my question."

Lisandra blinked, her face burning. "W–What?"

"Why are you here?" The man asked flatly. His gaze flicked toward Lisandra again, just for a second—long enough for his eyes to widen slightly.

His words faltered. He had seen her.

Completely.

"Lisandra!" Alphonse snapped again, tossing her friend's remaining clothes into her arms.

"...!" Lisandra's face went scarlet as she spun around and crouched low, dressing as quickly as possible, avoiding even looking in the man's direction.

Once clothed, she risked a glance. The stranger had moved slightly away, settling himself on a wooden bench beside a makeshift campfire. He poked at the flames with a branch, coaxing them higher, his expression calm.

The two women approached the campfire cautiously, Lisandra still red in the face and visibly fuming, while Alphonse kept her composure, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

The man—this stranger who had appeared out of nowhere—didn't acknowledge them. He sat silently before the fire, feeding it with the occasional twig, his silver eyes reflecting the flames as if lost in thought.

Alphonse finally broke the silence. "Who are you?"

If he turned out to be from Celesta or Arvatra… then this simple encounter could spell disaster.

"Amael." He replied, his gaze not leaving the fire.

Alphonse's brow furrowed. "Are you… from here?"

Amael shook his head once, no further explanation offered.

The silence stretched. Alphonse and Lisandra exchanged a glance—uncertain, wary, curious. Finally, Lisandra huffed and, unable to contain herself, sat down across from him, plopping onto the grass with her arms folded. Alphonse, less impulsive, chose instead to remain standing, leaning against the nearest tree where she could watch them both.

For a moment, the only sound was the soft crackle of the fire.

Then Amael's eyes lifted, his silver gaze briefly meeting theirs.

"I don't remember inviting either of you to share my camp."

Both women froze.

"..."

"..."

Lisandra's face twitched, the tips of her ears burning red. She jumped to her feet, fists clenched. "Who cares about your camp, anyway!" She snapped, her voice cracking with indignation before storming off into the dark.

Alphonse lingered for just a second longer, stealing a glance at Amael. There was something about him—something oddly grounded, unshaken by their presence—that made her hesitate. But she eventually sighed and followed after Lisandra.

Catching up, she found her friend grumbling furiously under her breath, her cheeks still flushed.

"Why are you so angry?" Alphonse asked, amused despite herself.

"I–I'm not angry!" Lisandra barked back, crossing her arms tightly. "It's just—he could've shared, at least! Instead, he acts like we're intruding. Who even does that? Appearing out of the water like some kind of creep…"

"If we're being fair, Lisandra… it's more like we barged into his place without asking."

Lisandra stopped in her tracks and shot Alphonse a glare. "His place? What, does he own the entire forest now, Alphonse?!"

Alphonse smirked faintly, which only made Lisandra's frustration grow. She turned away with an indignant "Hmph!" And stomped forward.

But she froze mid-step.

Standing in front of her, as if he had been waiting, was Amael.

Lisandra's body stiffened. Alphonse straightened instantly, her hand sliding toward her sword. The air tensed, ready to snap into battle.

But Amael didn't attack. He didn't even raise his voice. Instead, he simply extended a branch toward Lisandra. Hanging from its tip was something delicate… and definitely hers.

A blue bra.

Lisandra's eyes widened in horror.

Her face turned crimson. With a strangled cry, she snatched the undergarment from the branch, snapping the wood clean in the process. "Y–You…!" She sputtered, at a complete loss for words.

Refusing to meet anyone's eyes, she stormed past him in a flustered rush, clutching her reclaimed garment like it was a cursed object.

Amael glanced down at the broken branch in his hand, frowning faintly. It had been his sturdy fire-stirring stick.

Now it was ruined.

Meanwhile, Alphonse's blue eyes slid toward Amael, and for the briefest moment, her lips curled into a small, entertained smile before she turned to follow Lisandra.

The fire crackled on, casting long shadows, as Amael quietly returned to his camp.