I Am The Game's Villain

The blood-soaked streets of Elyen Kiora were eerily silent, save for the low hum of a lone mana-powered car swerving unevenly through the carnage. It wasn’t as if the driver was making an effort to avoid the lifeless bodies scattered across the road—far from it. The vehicle rattled and jolted as it ran over corpses, its wheels slick with blood. The truth was far simpler: Alvara had never driven a mana car before.

Yet, despite the unfamiliarity, her grip on the wheel was steady. She had no time for hesitation. The northern port was her destination, where the boat Amael had arranged awaited her. James Raven had already been informed, and now, after what felt like an eternity—but had only been half an hour—she was finally nearing the docks.

As the port came into view, the aftermath of the battle unfolded before her. It was over. The Ruvelion Knights stood victorious. On the opposite side, the defeated remnants of the Teraquin Knights knelt on the ground, broken and disgraced.

Disgust welled up in Alvara’s stomach. She had no sympathy for them—only loathing.

These so-called knights had stormed an entire city, dragging defenseless civilians into their war instead of taking the fight directly to the castle. Their cowardice was revolting. The sight of them kneeling there, helpless, only cemented that in her mind.

These men were once part of her army.

’How pathetic.’

But not for much longer. Once Vanadias was secured, she would see to it that every last one of them was executed. She wouldn’t tolerate their presence in her ranks, nor even allow them to breathe the same air as her.

The thought made her grip the wheel tighter, her annoyance simmering dangerously close to rage. How had she ever considered forming an alliance with such disgraceful traitors? And Durathiel Ruvelion…

Her teeth clenched.

Amael had known from the very beginning.

Her gaze flickered to the golden umbrella resting on the seat beside her.

"Nyrel Loyster..."

She muttered the name.

The conversation she had overheard still rang in her ears.

Amael was not Amael.

Nyrel Loyster was inside his body.

It should have sounded like complete madness. A ridiculous, impossible claim.

And yet, it wasn’t.

Because Amael—Nyrel—hadn’t denied it. Not even once.

She had been right all along.

Alvara had sensed it—felt it—something was undeniably wrong with him.

Yet, while she had chosen to ignore it, Kleines had not. He had rejected Amael completely, as though the very sight of him was an insult. But even so, the Amael standing before them now carried the memories of the previous one.

Was it truly right for a father to turn his back on someone who still, in some way, was his son?

The memory of Amael’s expression from that moment surfaced in her mind—pained, yet unreadable. The sight had made something in her chest tighten, a foreign, unwelcome sensation.

She had wanted to say something to him, anything, yet no words had come.

"What… am I even thinking?" Alvara mumbled, the heat rising to her cheeks as she scowled a bit.

It was ridiculous.

The way she wanted to comfort him… the way it mirrored how he had once comforted her, in his own quiet, strange way.

Her fingers clenched tighter around the wheel, her knuckles whitening as she forced herself to shake off the intrusive thoughts.

She knew what was happening to her.

And it shocked her.

She had always prided herself on being in complete control of her emotions, yet here she was, feeling something impossible—something she had thought would never feel even more with those of his race.

He was Human.

A mere Human. And yet, he had somehow shattered her defenses.

His face had lingered in her thoughts for days now, creeping into her mind at the worst moments. The realization left her flustered, and she despised it at first but somehow started longing for it despite herself.

She thought at first it was a work of her mind to fill the loneliness she felt after he left for nearly a week but she knew deep down that it was more than that.

Thankfully, before she could spiral any further, the port finally came into view.

Several boats were docked by the harbor, their sails fluttering in the night breeze. Slowing the mana car to a stop, Alvara quickly stepped out, her eyes scanning the area.

Then, suddenly—footsteps.

Without hesitation, she reached for the golden umbrella beside her, her body moving on instinct as she swung it toward the approaching figure—

Only to halt at the last moment.

James Raven stood before her with a smile.

"I’m glad to see you safe, Alvara," he said.

Alvara barely acknowledged his words, her gaze darting behind him.

No sign of Bryelle.

"Where is she?" She asked, unable to hide her concern.

"Already on the boat. Come with me." James didn’t waste another second, stepping forward and reaching into the backseat. He scooped Alea into his arms. "Let’s hurry."

Without argument, Alvara followed him.

The port was crawling with Ruvelion Knights, but James had been smart—he wore the armor of one of their own, allowing him to slip past unnoticed. No one paid them any mind as they made their way toward the ship.

Soon, they reached the boat Amael had prepared. Unlike ordinary ships, this one ran on mana stones like the car Alvara had driven.

If they moved at full speed, they could reach Sancta Vedelia in two or three days.

The moment Alvara set foot on the ship, she wasted no time. With swift strides, she made her way to the cabin quarters. The corridor stretched long before her, lined with doors on either side, but her eyes locked onto one at the far end.

Her steps quickened.

Then quickened more.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest.

Without hesitation, she reached for the doorknob, twisted it, and pushed the door open.

Inside, seated in her wheelchair, her back turned toward the entrance, was Bryelle. The dim glow of the porthole bathed her in pale light as she gazed outside, lost in thought.

At the sound of the door creaking open, she turned her chair around.

Alvara stood frozen in the doorway, slightly breathless, her chest rising and falling.

From the moment she had learned that Bryelle had been taken, fear had gripped her. Even though Amael had assured her that Bryelle was safe, she hadn’t been able to shake off the dread—hadn’t been able to believe it until she could see her with her own eyes.

And now, here she was.

Alive.

Safe.

Bryelle’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of her elder sister, and in that instant, all the composure she had tried so hard to maintain crumbled.

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"E–Elder sister…" She choked out.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She had wanted to welcome Alvara with a smile, just as Amael had advised her—to not make her feel guilty.

But the moment she saw her, the moment reality sank in, it was too much.

Alvara didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, leaned down, and wrapped her arms around her sister in a warm, protective embrace.

Bryelle’s small frame trembled against her.

"S–Sister… I—I am so—"

"It’s fine," Alvara said, her voice uncharacteristically soft as she ran her fingers through Bryelle’s hair.

Bryelle clung to her tightly, refusing to let go, and Alvara let her. She held her as long as she needed.

But Alvara felt it—the way Bryelle’s body shook, the way her fingers clenched desperately onto her dress.

The pain she had endured.

The fear she had lived through.

Even after everything Bryelle had been through in the past, this… this had been too much. The thought of her little sister imprisoned, surrounded by men who had threatened her and used her against her.

Alvara’s expression darkened.

A dangerous rage boiled over barely restrained.

Durathiel.

His men.

Lykhor.

They would pay.

The moment she recovered her mana, she would make sure their deaths were nothing short of agonizing.

"I—I thought I would never see you again, Elder Sister…." Bryelle’s voice trembled as she smiled, her eyes glistening with relief.

A warm hand landed on her head, gently ruffling her hair. "I told you, I won’t leave you alone," Alvara reassured her.

Bryelle nodded, her small hands gripping the hem of Alvara’s sleeve as if afraid she might disappear again.

"Let’s go home." Alvara said softly.

But Bryelle hesitated. "B–But Elder Brother has taken Vanadias… and Mother…"

Alvara’s golden eyes darkened for a moment before she knelt down to meet Bryelle at eye level. "You don’t need to worry about that. I will take back Vanadias… and I will bring Mother home." Continue your saga on Freewebnovel

She had stayed silent for too long, thinking Kendel had things in control. But Vanadias was her city too. No one would dare to stop her there.

For now, though, Bryelle needed rest.

"Come, lay down." Alvara guided her sister to the bed. As Bryelle settled beneath the blankets, Alvara pulled the empty wheelchair close, sitting beside her.

Bryelle’s fingers curled around Alvara’s hand, refusing to let go even as exhaustion dragged her into sleep. Alvara stayed there, watching over her.

Outside, the boat rocked lightly against the waves as it set off.

Noticing that, Alvara closed her eyes.

James Raven stood at the helm as he monitored their course. The vessel was a high-tech mana boat—once he had input the coordinates, it would navigate itself to their destination. He had nothing else to do but watch over their journey… yet he remained vigilant, his gaze shifting toward the darkened horizon.

His thoughts drifted back to Harvey.

He had wanted—no, needed—to go back for him. But recklessness wouldn’t save his friend; it would only put Harvey’s life in greater danger. He had spoken to him briefly before they departed… though it didn’t feel like enough.

As the shores of Elyen Kiora faded into the distance, James cast one last glance at the receding land, hoping Amael would join them soon.