I Am The Game's Villain

After leaving Alvara’s room, I closed the door behind me

"..."

My gaze dropped to Lykhor’s limp body sprawled across the ground, his face still contorted in a grimace even in unconsciousness.

If only I could kill this bastard…

The thought flickered through my mind once more. My fingers twitched at the idea, but I couldn’t act on it—not now. Those guards had seen him walk in earlier. If I killed him, they’d ask questions.

Of course, I could kill the guards too. That would solve the immediate problem. But when the next shift arrived and found the mess, the whole thing would unravel. No, I couldn’t afford to draw attention.

First things first: Bryelle. I had to find her.

Lykhor must have used her as leverage to threaten Alvara. That’s the only way this piece of scum could have backed her into a corner. If he had any intelligence—which I grudgingly admitted he might—he’d keep Bryelle close.

No, scratch that. He wasn’t just keeping her close. He’d probably already informed Durathiel.

Bryelle wasn’t just anyone. She had the royal blood of both Elaryon and Teraquin flowing through her veins. She wasn’t leverage—she was a prize. They wouldn’t leave her unguarded.

But where the hell would they keep her?

Kneeling down, I reached into Lykhor’s pockets and began searching. My fingers moved swiftly, brushing aside useless scraps of paper and random junk, until I found something worth taking—a phone.

"That’s a start," I muttered under my breath, holding up the device.

Flipping it open, I scrolled through his recent calls. Just a few minutes ago, he’d dialed someone. Of course, calling them back and playing dumb wasn’t an option. I wasn’t that reckless.

I pocketed the phone and crouched lower, gripping Lykhor by the front of his shirt. My other hand summoned a blade.

"Hnnn…" Lykhor’s eyelids fluttered before snapping open, his eyes widening in shock seeing my face.

The moment he tried to scream, I drove the knife into his mouth. The blade tore through flesh and severed his tongue with a squelch.

"Urghnnnn—!!!"

"Shh." I clamped my bloodied hand over his mouth, muffling his muffled cries as he writhed beneath me.

But his struggles didn’t stop. If anything, they became more frantic. Annoyed, I slammed his head against the floor. His body went limp again, leaving only a faint gurgling sound as blood pooled beneath him.

I straightened, taking a moment to examine the crimson stains on my palms.

After a long minute, I furrowed my brows.

Why did I do that?

I stared at Lykhor’s ruined face as I replayed the moment in my mind.

Right. He couldn’t be allowed to talk.

I couldn’t risk him exposing me, but this... this was messy. My gut twisted uneasily, though I ignored the sensation.

But just his tongue wouldn’t be enough in that case. He could write. He could gesture. He could still communicate.

My eyes traveled to his hands. It would be so easy to slice them off. A quick slash and he’d be as good as useless. If I really wanted to be thorough, I could gouge out his eyes, maybe destroy his ears while I was at it.

No eyes to see, no hands to write, no ears to hear—he’d be reduced to nothing.

I flexed my fingers around the knife, considering it for a moment longer.

But no. That would be overkill.

The guards couldn’t suspect anything. Not yet.

What was I even thinking about?

Torture?

I didn’t have the time for this.

Lykhor wouldn’t wake up anytime soon, anyway.

With a sigh, I opened the door and grabbed his limp body, dragging him out into the hallway.

The two guards stationed outside jumped at the sight, their wide eyes darting between me and Lykhor’s bloodied, unconscious form.

"Milady?"

"He’s been hurt," I said casually, tossing Lykhor’s body onto the ground.

They flinched as they noticed the blood leaking from his mouth. One of them bent closer, recoiling slightly when he caught sight of the shredded remains of Lykhor’s tongue.

"Let’s just say the Princess isn’t someone to be touched… or played with." My voice dropped to a dangerous tone as I locked eyes with both of them.

They paled. One of them swallowed audibly.

"Take him out of the tower and treat him," I ordered, stepping over Lykhor as if he were nothing more than a pile of trash.

"Y–Yes, Milady," the other guard stuttered before bending down to lift him.

I turned to leave but paused, glancing back at them over my shoulder. "And one more thing. No one is allowed to enter this room."

"Is that… the Princess Freya’s order?" He asked

I stopped mid-step, slowly turning my head to meet his gaze.

"It’s mine."

Without waiting for a response, I turned away, walking toward the elevator. Just before stepping inside, I spoke again.

"If I ever see our royal guest in an unbecoming state again, it will be you on the ground. And unlike him…" I let the silence hang for a moment, turning to face them as the elevator doors began to close. A smile tugged at my lips. "You won’t be alive."

As soon as the doors slid shut, I clenched my fists.

"Bryelle… Mother… Ron… the others…" I muttered under my breath, my fingers pressing against my temple. Your next read is at NovelBin.Côm

They were my priority. I had to stay focused.

Of all three, Bryelle was the one in immediate danger.

"One thing at a time.

The elevator jolted slightly as it stopped on a random floor, and the doors opened. A man stepped in, dark eyes glancing at me briefly before he gave a polite nod.

"Milord."

"..." @@novelbin@@

The doors closed, leaving the two of us alone in the confined space.

For a few moments, silence settled between us. I studied him from the corner of my eye. Something about him felt… off.

"..."

"..."

Before I could act, my instincts flared. My hand moved to my sword, but before I could unsheath it, a glint of steel cut through the air. I tilted my head just in time, narrowly dodging the knife as it shattered the glass wall behind me.

I turned my gaze to him.

He looks… familiar.

I didn’t have time to dwell on it. He was fast—too fast. Another blade sliced toward me, and I dodged again, this time grabbing his arm in an attempt to subdue him.

But he was strong. As strong as me. I gritted my teeth, struggling to hold my ground.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked, glaring at him;

He didn’t answer me.

Instead, his eyes shifted—morphing into a crimson red, their pupils narrowing into sharp, vertical slits. His true mana flickered and my eyes widened in recognition.

"James Raven…" I muttered.

James’s expression mirrored mine, his own eyes widening in shock. But it lasted only a moment before his grip on his sword tightened.

"Calm down!" I groaned, throwing every ounce of strength I had into holding him back. He was as strong as I’d expected.

"Master!" I shouted.

The moment the word left my lips, I felt it—a flicker of hesitation. The strength behind his blade faltered ever so slightly.

"Amael?"

"Yeah, it’s me," I said. "Now, could you please lower your sword?"

James nodded before stepping back and sheathing his weapon.

"What are you doing here?"He asked.

"That’s my question, actually," I shot back, raising an eyebrow. "Alicia’s been worried sick about you. She’s stopped eating altogether."

That part was a bluff—I hadn’t seen her do any such thing—but I could vividly imagine her reaction when they finally reunited. A mix of embarrassment and anger, knowing James had fallen for the idea of his daughter missing him.

"Alicia?" James’s eyes widened further. His doting father instincts kicked in, written all over his face.

"I saw her, yeah. She was at the Zestella border the last time I checked, just a few days ago," I said.

"What?!" James all but shouted, the color draining from his face. "I thought she was safe in Ravenia!"

I gave him a pointed look. "Unfortunately, you underestimated her. She’s not exactly the type to sit still while the world falls apart around her."

James clenched his fists.

"And Victor?" I asked.

"Victor’s a grown man now," James said. "He knows how to take care of himself. But Alicia…" His voice wavered slightly, and the furrow in his brow deepened. "How is she?"

"She’s fine—for now," I replied. "But like I said, she’s worried. I even heard her muttering things like, ’I forgive you, Father,’ or ’Please come back.’ Something along those lines."

James’s face softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the worry etched in his features. "Alicia…"

[<You’re cruel, Edward.>]

’I call it payback for how he beat me to a pulp during our training sessions.’

"Anyway," I said, breaking the silence, "what are you doing here, Master?"

James’ gaze darted around the confined space.

"We’re inside an elevator, Master," I pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"You never know," James muttered. He sighed heavily after. "Harvey Indi Zestella is being held in one of Utopia’s prisons."

"Right…" I nodded. Celeste’s father—yeah, I’d heard he was captured, but in Utopia? That made sense. Of course, they’d keep him in the most secure location imaginable.

Wait.

If he was in a prison in Utopia…

A thought struck me like lightning, and my breath caught. I knew exactly where that prison was.

The commanders I had defeated. Every single one of them had been shipped off to Utopia, locked away in what was reputed to be their impenetrable prison. Alongside them, other hostages had been taken.

Harvey Indi Zestella was almost certainly among them.

[<Bryelle as well.>]

My eyes widened as Cleenah pointed out. Of course. There was no way Durathiel would leave Bryelle stashed away in some random corner. She was far too valuable for that.

I quickly pulled out Lykhor’s phone, my fingers flying across the screen as I scrolled through the messages. I came across photos—clear evidence showing Bryelle, alive. The pictures didn’t give any clues about her exact location, but the people surrounding her told me everything I needed to know.

Utopian Knights.

That meant Durathiel had to know. Which also meant Bryelle was likely being held in the same place as Harvey Indi Zestella.

A slow smirk tugged at the corners of my lips.

"You’re in luck, Master."