I Am The Game's Villain

I glared at Amael, my breath ragged, my arm still trembling from the sudden blow. He had attacked me without a word, and if I hadn't instinctively reinforced my body with Ruah at the very last second, I was certain the bones in my arm would have snapped like brittle twigs. Even so, I could still feel the cracks running through them, aching with every pulse of blood.

What the hell was he doing?

That strike wasn't some careless attempt to stop a fight.

"A–Amael?!" Lisandra let out in shock as she stepped forward, her eyes wide, unable to process what had just happened. "W–What are you doing?"

"Stopping him," Amael answered, his gaze resting on me. "I've seen enough. If we leave him unchecked, he'll lose himself to Nemesis—or worse, he'll accept her completely."

"What?" The word slipped past my lips in a groan.

So this was what it was about? Everything? His stalking.

He had been watching me all along to make sure I didn't collapse into Nemesis… to make sure I didn't become the worst possible reflection of Samael.

Lisandra shook her head. "Y–You can't say it like that, not now!"

"You heard him yourself. You know his priorities."

Sylvia spoke up at that time. "And you have yours, Amael. Don't pretend you don't. We all carry priorities, burdens we refuse to put down. You can't blame him for choosing the people he loves."

"Unfortunately, as a Vessel of Samael, restraint isn't optional. It's demanded of us. And he hasn't shown a shred of it. He acts on raw emotion—and that path leads only to curses, to destruction."

The moment those words left him, his body blurred.

I barely saw the movement—only the rush of air before instinct screamed at me. I rolled hard across the ground, grit biting into my palms, and narrowly dodged a kick that would've shattered my ribs if it connected. Another strike followed, faster than thought, and again I twisted away, my body moving on survival alone.

I knew he was a Demigod, but this… this speed, this power, it was something else entirely. Even Caerus hadn't felt this overwhelming.

"What are you waiting for, Edward?" Amael's voice rang out coldly as he halted, his eyes boring into mine. "Show me what you're really capable of."

My teeth clenched. Nemesis was there, inside me, seething, whispering, urging me to let go. I could feel her clawing at my veins, ready to explode, ready to rip Amael to shreds if I simply stopped resisting.

But I refused.

I wouldn't yield to her.

Instead, I summoned Trinity Nihil into my grip. The blade shimmered faintly in my hands, heavy with power.

"That sword won't work against me," Amael said with a faint smile. And then he was gone.

I swung instinctively, aiming where I thought he'd be—but mid-swing, something strange happened. The blade slowed. My arms felt like lead, like I was fighting against the sword itself.

"What—?" My eyes widened in disbelief.

I jumped back just in time to avoid his hand grazing my throat, but not fast enough to escape the crack of his knuckles across my jaw. Blood filled my mouth, metallic and bitter. I staggered, grimacing, and looked down at Trinity Nihil.

It was… resisting me.

Refusing to fight Amael.

Why?

"How long are you planning to hesitate?" His voice suddenly came from behind me.

I whirled around and swung—but there was nothing. A searing pain erupted across my back as if a blade had carved straight through flesh. I stumbled forward, choking on a grunt, my vision flashing white for a second.

And then I felt it again—his presence closing in.

"Anathemas Fire," I spoke through clenched teeth.

At once, purple flames surged across my body, wrapping me in a flickering inferno.

Amael halted, a smile curling on his lips. "The Purple Fire…" His eyes gleamed with something unreadable, maybe nostalgia. "I knew a dragon who wielded those same flames once."

Was that Vysindra?

In this point of time, should already have been slain—killed by the founder of the Redhorah Empire not long ago I guess.

"Do you really think you stand a chance against me?" Amael asked.

Mana poured out of him like a tidal wave.

I felt it immediately—the weight, the pressure—crashing onto my shoulders as if the sky itself had fallen. His aura spread outward, flooding the battlefield, pressing down on everything it touched.

My chest tightened, my lungs refusing to draw in air properly. My knees trembled under the sheer force of it, and for a split second, I thought I might collapse. This wasn't just raw mana being flared—this was something beyond that.

A Demigod's authority.

At that level, mana wasn't just energy anymore; it was presence, reality bending to your existence. His control was so refined, so absolute, that his mana itself gained form—an overwhelming field that froze weaker opponents in place, stripping them of strength and breath alike.

I clenched my teeth hard, forcing air into my lungs. Every muscle in my body screamed, urging me to kneel, to give in. But I refused, gritting through the pain, standing against him even as sweat trickled down my face.

Amael walked slowly but—

-BOOM!

The crushing weight vanished in an instant, scattered as if the heavens themselves had torn it apart.

Amael froze mid-step.

I looked up, gasping, and saw her.

Amaya.

She was standing directly in front of me, shielding me with her slender frame. I couldn't see her face—only the straight line of her back—but I didn't need to. The killing chill rolling off her told me enough. Her aura wasn't loud, wasn't flaring like Amael's… but it was sharp, lethal, cold enough to freeze blood mid-flow.

She swept her gaze across the battlefield, and when her eyes caught Amael, they blazed silently.

Not the soft crimson I had grown used to, but a blood red so deep and dark it made the blood moon above seem pale.

"No one touches him."

Her voice was lower, heavier than usual.

Colder. Almost… not her.

She repeated, each word like the toll of a death knell. "No one touches Darling."

Amael's expression didn't flicker, though his calm was tinged with caution. He held her stare for a long moment before finally glancing at me. I was still on shaky legs, recovering from the storm of his pressure.

"You won't take Alicia back with that strength," he said. "Strong for your age, yes—but not enough to topple a kingdom. Not enough to carve your path without leaning on others. You've done nothing but cling pathetically to Goddesses stronger than you, letting them fight your battles for you."

He turned as though finished with me.

But I had already moved.

My foot slammed against the ground, dust bursting around me as I launched forward. My fist lashed out, heading straight for him.

"It's useless." Amael barely shifted, reaching out casually to intercept my strike. His fingers closed around my arm—but the impact never came. My figure shimmered, dissolving into nothing.

A mirror reflection.

Amael's eyes narrowed, but before he could fully adjust, I was already there. My real body lunged from the opposite side. He pivoted instantly, faster than thought, catching my wrist mid-strike and twisting, trying to throw me down—

—but I called upon Amunet's Grasp, the technique twisting space and body alike. My momentum flipped, my frame contorting unnaturally as I wrenched free and shifted my center of balance midair.

Before he realized it, I was on top of him, my fist raised high, ready to crash down.

The whole exchange had taken barely a breath, the movements seamless, fluid—fast enough that even Amael's eyes flickered with surprise.

Pinned beneath me, he chuckled softly. "Impressive…But not enough. You won't beat me without her. In the end, you'll have to call Nemesis again."

I stared down at him, my chest heaving. For a moment, neither of us moved.

"I thought… maybe, as fellow Vessels of Samael, you'd understand." My grip tightened around his shirt, pulling him closer. "You'd understand what it means to be the target of everything. To be hunted, cursed, hated. To carry a burden that no one else could possibly bear."

"..." Amael said nothing.

My teeth clenched. "But I was wrong. You wouldn't understand. You've lived your whole life pampered. Sheltered. Everything handed to you, everyone around you protecting you. You've never had to crawl through the ashes of everything you've lost."

His eyes flickered faintly at that.

"I've lost three women I loved and today… I lost another. With her, my daughter."

For a moment, silence stretched.

"She's there, inside me." I glanced down at my own trembling fist. "Nemesis. Boiling. Screaming to be let loose. If I called her out, she'd kill you. Tear you apart. And for a heartbeat… I almost want to let her." A bitter smile fell on my lips.

"But I won't. Not for you. Not even to take back Alicia. Not even to take back Levina."

I released him, pushing off his chest and standing tall above him. My gaze lingered on his eyes calmly.

"If you really want to kill me, Amael, you'll have to try harder than that," I said curtly.

Then I turned my back on him and walked away.

***

Edward's footsteps faded.

Amael remained where he was, flat on his back, his grey eyes fixed on the red moon hanging high above. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to be still.

Sylvia approached him as she looked down at him with a stern gaze. "What was that, Amael…?"

Lisandra, however, wasn't nearly as subtle. She stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, glaring daggers at him.

Amael chuckled quietly. "Don't look at me like that. I only wanted to test him with my own hands."

"And?" Sylvia asked.

For a moment, Amael said nothing. He simply lay there, the red light catching on the faint curve of his smile. Then he sat up, brushing dust from his shoulders.

"I need to leave for a while," he finally said.

"What?" Lisandra blinked, her anger giving way to bewilderment. "You're… leaving? Just like that?"

Amael glanced at both of them. "Both of you should remain here. Or, if you wish, follow Edward. Accompany him in his quest to find Alicia. The choice is yours."

Sylvia's brows knit together. "I don't understand…"

"I've decided it's time I think for myself," Amael replied, almost gently. A small, wistful smile curved on his lips as he lifted one hand.

A sphere of pure blue light flickered into existence above his palm, swirling and glowing faintly like a fragment of the night sky. Its radiance illuminated his face in shifting hues, throwing shadows across the tired lines of his features.

Lisandra and Sylvia both leaned forward slightly, their confusion deepening.

"These," Amael said softly, "are the forgotten memories… of what I was. Of what I should have been."

The two women exchanged puzzled glances. His words made little sense to them.

Amael's eyes lingered on the sphere, and his smile grew faint, brittle. "I never assimilated them. I only watched. Because… as expected, I didn't want to be overwritten by someone else. I suppose…" He let out a small sigh, eyes flickering down. "I was afraid."

The sphere dissolved between his fingers, scattering into the wind like stardust. Silence fell, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves.

But then, as Lisandra and Sylvia continued to watch, Amael lifted his hand again. This time, two new spheres appeared—one before each of them. They pulsed faintly with light, alive, warm, beckoning.

He looked at them both with a quiet, knowing expression. "But I won't make the choices for you. These are not mine to decide. Who you want to be… that's for you to choose."

With a flick of his wrist, the spheres floated gently forward, drifting into Lisandra's and Sylvia's hands.

Both of them looked at each other before reaching out their hands toward the spheres.