I Am The Game's Villain

When I reached Utopia, I found myself hesitating. Should I head to Elyen Kiora first or deal with matters in Utopia?

It was a small dilemma, but then I remembered Alvara.

I had left her completely in the dark before my departure. No explanations, no updates—not even a simple message to assure her of my intentions. It had been nearly a week since then. I could have informed her at some point during my journey, but honestly, I hadn’t expected things to take this long. Perhaps if I’d had Levina with me for the return trip, it wouldn’t have stretched out so much.

Traveling without her was slower, even with the ship I was provided. But taking her back wasn’t an option. I had made her a promise, one I meant to keep, and I ensured Celeste would care for her until I returned to see it through.

With those thoughts lingering, I decided my first course of action should be to visit Alvara. At the very least, she deserved to be informed about the escape plan since she was part of it to begin with.

As I entered the towering structure, I was met with the same influx of stares as before. However, this time, they felt different. The admiring gazes were still there—those never seemed to fade—but they were now accompanied by murmurs and sidelong glances.

"What is she doing here?"

"Shouldn’t she be with the Princess?"

"Maybe she sent her?"

"No way, not with the current situation at Elyen Kiora."

What the hell were they talking about?

I furrowed my brows, brushing off the question as I pressed forward. Whatever it was, I could deal with it after I’d spoken to Alvara.

When I arrived at her door, I noticed that the guards stationed outside were different from the ones I had seen before. Their expressions shifted when they recognized me, eyes widening slightly.

"Lady Loki?"

I gave them a curt nod and moved to step inside, but they blocked my path.

I fixed them with a stare.

"M-Milady…There is already someone with the Princess."

"Someone? Who?"

The guard hesitated, glancing nervously at his companion as if unsure whether to speak.

Was it Durathiel? That was the first name that came to mind. Who else would visit her in my absence? There was the other dog but I doubted he would try anything after how he was rejected.

"That’s…" He began but again hesitated.

"Let me pass," I said, my tone colder now, tinged with the annoyance that I had built up since the beginning of this damn war and I no longer cared to hide it anymore

They exchanged uneasy looks but eventually stepped aside.

What the hell was that?

I had a bad feeling.

Pushing the door open, I cautiously peered inside. The living room was in complete disarray—furniture overturned, objects scattered haphazardly across the floor as if a storm had swept through. I clenched my fists, holding back the urge to curse Alvara. Do I need to clean it everyday for her?

But my irritation dissolved the moment I heard an odd noise coming from the adjacent room. The door was slightly ajar, and a strange mix of muffled groans and something heavier reached my ears.

I moved forward slowly.

"Don’t move, or I’ll do this the hard way."

My eyes widened, and I instinctively entered the room which was already open.

"..."

Lykhor was there—on Alvara’s bed, looming over her. She was pinned beneath him, her face pale and drenched in sweat. Her chest rose and fell in erratic gasps as she struggled for air, her body writhing weakly beneath his grip. One of her arms was twisted awkwardly in his grasp, and her dress was torn at the shoulder, exposing a thin line of reddened skin.

A sick grin stretched across his face as he leaned closer to her.

"Good–"

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

Lykhor froze mid-sentence and turned his head to look at me. His expression twisted from surprise to annoyance, his dark brows knitting together.

Recognition flickered in his eyes before his lips curled into a mocking smirk. "Oh, it’s you—the woman who visits Alvara. I’m busy right now, so why don’t you come back later?"

"..."

I said nothing, but my eyes fell on Alvara again. Her trembling hands gripped the sheets tightly, trying hard to breathe.

I felt something inside me snap.

Slowly, I narrowed my eyes and took a step forward.

Lykhor chuckled. "What? Don’t tell me you want to join us—"

-BAM!

Before he could finish, my foot connected with his temple in a fluid motion, sending him flying off the bed and crashing into the wall with a satisfying thud.

"A-Arghhh!" He crumpled to the ground, clutching his head in pain. His legs wobbled as he tried to stand, his dazed eyes struggling to focus. When he finally managed to glare at me. "Y-You bitch—ugh!"

I didn’t give him a chance to recover. Grabbing the front of his shirt, I yanked him up and slammed him against the floor.

-BAM!

His body tilted as the impact knocked the air out of his lungs. He gasped, his mouth gaping wide, but I didn’t loosen my grip. My fist tightened against his throat, cutting off his airflow. He clawed desperately at my hand, his nails scraping against my skin, but it was useless.

"Ughhh!!" With a burst of strength, he managed to reach for my chest—but instead of striking me, his hand closed around the pendant hanging from my neck. Bryelle’s pendant. With a violent tug, he tore it away, the chain snapping and drawing a thin line of blood across my skin.

As the pendant left my neck, I felt the familiar ripple of mana break through my disguise. My true appearance emerged, and Lykhor froze beneath me. His fingers went limp, his eyes widening in shock as he stared at me.

Lifting him, I stared at him with my amber eyes before releasing Wrath.

"...!!!"

Particles of Wrath appeared and slithered through Lykhor’s body. As soon as they did, his whole body shook, his legs kicking powerlessly and his hands gripping my arm.

Blood spurt out of his mouth and leaked of his ears and nose. I continued to send Wrath this time to destroy his body from within. The horror and agony his eyes showed was only fueling me further my desire to continue.

[<Edward. If you kill him here, now, it will be over. They will look for him. The Tower will go into full alert. Every escape route will be cut off, your mother could be moved elsewhere, and the people you left with the Ruvelion Army won’t make it out.>]

Cleenah’s voice echoed in my head.

I tightened my grip on Lykhor’s throat, feeling the pulse of his life beneath my hand. My teeth clenched every fiber of my being screaming to end him here and now.

But Cleenah was right. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t afford it—not now.

With a growl, I released him. His body crumpled to the floor like a discarded rag doll, choking and gasping for breath. Continue your saga on novelbuddy

But I wasn’t done.

I took a step forward and drove my foot into his groin sending him crashing against the wall.

"...!" Lykhor’s mouth opened, but no sound came out except a strangled wheeze. His eyes rolled back as his body convulsed in agony.

"Piece of shit," I spat with disgust. The urge to kick him again lingered, but my attention was pulled elsewhere.

My gaze shifted to Alvara, still slumped on the bed. Her chest heaved with labored breath, her body still trembling. Sweat clung to her skin, her disheveled hair sticking to her pale face. She looked so fragile, so broken.

"Alvara," I called, moving to her side. I knelt by the bed, careful to approach slowly. "It’s me."

Her body jerked violentl, a sharp cry escaping her lips as she convulsed again. Instinctively, I reached out to steady her, but she flinched away, thrashing on the bed.

"Calm down! It’s me!" I tried again. "Alvara, it’s over. You’re safe now."

She shook her head, her unfocused eyes darting around the room as though she couldn’t even see me.

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I gripped her arms, trying to ground her, trying to pull her back to reality.

"Look at me!" I said more forcefully, leaning closer to meet her gaze. "Alvara! Look at me!"

The sound of her name spoken with such intensity seemed to reach her at the end. Her trembling eyes finally focused on mine, wide and glassy with unshed tears. For a moment, it was as if she couldn’t believe I was real.

"It’s over," I repeated. "He’s gone. You’re safe."

She stared at me, her gaze dropping to where my hands still held her wrists. A flicker of unease crossed her face. Realizing this, I immediately released her and stepped back, giving her space.

Alvara scrambled back against the headboard, clutching the sheets to her chest. Her hands fumbled with the fabric, trying to cover herself, but the torn dress made it impossible.

She was shaking so much it hurt to watch.

I reached into my storage ring and pulled out a thick, warm blanket. "Here," I said, holding it out to her.

Her trembling hands shot forward to grab it, and she pulled it around her body, curling into a small ball beneath its safety.

This bastard…

I turned toward Lykhor on the ground.

I had to get rid of the trash of this room.

I turned my attention to Lykhor, still sprawled out on the floor, unconscious. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, I dragged him across the floor with no regard for his discomfort. H

"You’re lucky," I muttered under my breath, hauling him into the living room. "For now."

I tossed him like the garbage he was, his body landing with a heavy thud amidst the wreckage of the room. He could wait. Right now, Alvara was my priority.

I wiped the blood from my neck where my pendant had been ripped away, before entering back Alvara’s room.

I sat down next to the bed, my gaze fixed on Alvara. She lay there, clutching the sheet her vacant eyes staring at nothing in particular. The faint tremble in her hands didn’t go unnoticed.

"Sorry... for being late," I said quietly. Unsurprisingly, there was no response. Not a word, not a flicker of acknowledgment.

It was as if her anger—or whatever she felt toward me—was so far removed, it didn’t even warrant words anymore. But was it anger? Probably but not the kind she might have shown before. Back then, it had been disgust, perhaps even hatred. This felt... like genuine anger toward me.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "You should never have kept that scumbag close to you to begin with," I muttered, leaning back against the wall.

Maybe I should’ve warned her. Maybe I should’ve known. But how could I? Sure, in the game Lykhor had been trash—always groveling behind Alvara, clinging to her like a parasite. But he had died before her. I never thought he’d sink this low in reality.

I glanced at her again. Her eyes were open, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. It was like she’d resolved never to close them again.

I sighed. "You have every right to hate humans, halves, hybrids... all of us. I don’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through. I can’t. But I’ve known enough about you to know it wasn’t fair. That’s why I wanted to help you." My hands rested on my knees, fingers curling into fists. "But look at this now. The one who betrayed you, the one who tried to hurt you, was an elf—your own kind. Someone you trusted."

Her body stiffened ever so slightly, and I pressed on, my voice growing colder. "There are trash people in every race, Alvara. Origin, status, bloodline—it doesn’t mean a damn thing. Don’t trust someone just because of what they are. It’s not worth the pain when they prove you wrong."