I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 502: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [41] Dolphian Hero

Chapter 502: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [41] Dolphian Hero

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Dolphian Capital City

Weeks had passed since the attack on the city by Kamarel and his army. The capital had been thrown into chaos, only for John Tarmias to rise to the challenge, defeating the invaders and earning the admiration of many. In the wake of Kamarel's defeat, other commanders were sent in to take his place, but none could match his menace or effectiveness. They faltered under John's leadership, and one by one, they were swiftly dealt with, further cementing John's reputation.

Though the title came with accolades, it was one that embarrassed John-The Dolphian Hero. Amelia delighted, didn't miss to tease in calling him by it, though inwardly, she was immensely proud of his achievements.

For Reiner Dolphis, each of John's victories was like swallowing a bitter pill, one after the other. Every triumph chipped away at his resolve, leaving him wondering how he could ever convince his daughter that this man was 'unworthy' of her which himself wasn't believing it to begin with.

"He's just a half-human..." Reiner muttered bitterly, scribbling the words onto paper. He stared at the sentence, the emptiness of the excuse settling in his chest, before he crumpled the paper and threw it into the wastebasket.

Anyone who had entered his office at that moment might have assumed he was deep in thought, strategizing over the next move in the ongoing war. But they would be wrong. Reiner wasn't thinking of war. He was only focused on one thing: finding a way to rid himself of John.

"He's from a third-rate country, perhaps?" Reiner suggested to himself, only to crumple another piece of paper in frustration. The excuses were growing thinner, weaker.

In the silence that followed, a voice echoed in his mind, causing Reiner's lips to twitch in annoyance.

[Why are you so wary of him, Reiner?]

A chuckle rang through his thoughts.

"Anuket... What are you doing here?" Reiner muttered under his breath, quite irritated. "It's been months since you've spoken to me."

"Well, I got worried. Your heir, who was supposed to inherit me, is in a coma, and your daughter is being used as a vessel for a twisted woman from three hundred years ago.

Reiner's teeth clenched at the mention of his daughter's plight. "At least you and she have something in common," he muttered sarcastically.

[That's rude]

"Then what do you want, Anuket?"

[Well, I'm here to advise you to leave your daughter in John's care. He is... let's say, well- accompanied to be capable of protecting her.]

Reiner's brow furrowed. "I don't know what you mean by that."

But he couldn't deny the truth in Anuket's words. John was a capable man, more so than he'd initially thought. Despite his youth, he led his army with unparalleled skill, strategically positioned at the walls, protecting the city. John was a diamond in the rough, and anyone with any sense would want him on their side.

Reiner sighed, leaning back in his chair. "But...I suppose... in the end, you're right. The boy is capable but I didn't think you would concern yourself with my family."

[It may not look like it, but I do care about your children, you know.]

Reiner's fingers tightened around the edge of his desk. "Then save my son."

Anuket laughed in answer.

[I could save your son, but is saving him right now the right choice?]

Reiner's brow furrowed. "What?"

[Well, I'm leaving. Take care, boy.]

"Wait! Just answer me one question."

[What question?]

"The war..." Reiner hesitated before pressing forward. "Are we going to win it? You must know something."

[Hm. Even I cannot predict the future. I am neither Freyja nor Laima, but..." She paused for dramatic effect. "Regardless of victory or defeat, you will lose something truly important- by your own hands. Or maybe your own mouth. It will depend on you and the other Heads I suppose.]

"What does that even mean?"

[Bye. Your son-in-law is here]

Anuket teased before her presence faded.

Reiner sighed heavily, bracing himself for what was to come. The door didn't so much as knock before it swung open, revealing John Tarmias. His entrance was as unceremonious as

ever.

"You called for me, King?" John asked, his tone walking the fine line between formality and indifference.

Reiner groaned inwardly. He was used to this attitude by now, though it never failed to irritate him. "It seems you are doing well, Dolphian Hero," he said, his voice dripping with

sarcasm.

John's expression darkened immediately at the mention of his title. His lips twitched in annoyance. If Edward ever heard of this nickname, he'd never live it down. Edward's laughter would haunt him for weeks.

"Did you call me just to tease me? I guess even old men have their humor," John replied.

Reiner's face darkened in turn. He clenched his fists, barely restraining himself. "Fine," he bit out. "I admit you've done well. I still don't accept your marriage to my daughter, but..." He took a deep breath. "I will consider it if you can hold Dolphian City in my absence." John's eyes widened in surprise. "What? You're running away now? After hiding in your office until now?"

Reiner's pride bristled at the insult.

-BAM!

"You little prick—!" Reiner slammed his hands on the desk, his voice rising before he cut himself off, his willpower barely holding him back.

In that moment, he was certain-this boy was undoubtedly Jarett's son.

Reiner leaned back in his chair, his smile never reaching his eyes. "I have affairs to attend to- important ones. So, will you take the responsibility, or shall I entrust it to a certain Duke's son of Dolphis?" He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching as he added, "He's young and

seems quite fond of my daughter-"

"I'll do it," John interrupted with a groan.

"Good," Reiner replied, standing up. He adjusted his cloak and gestured vaguely toward the desk. "I've left your official promotion papers and the authority granted by my signature right there. You can show it to the other commanders if necessary."

Reiner walked toward the door. Just before leaving, he glanced back over his shoulder. "I hope

to see you not entirely alive upon my return."

With that, he left the office, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.

John let out a sigh. Ignoring the king's parting words, he moved to the desk, his hand reaching for the documents Reiner had mentioned. But his gaze caught on something else-a crumpled piece of paper carelessly discarded at the edge of the desk.

Curiosity got the better of him. He picked it up, smoothing out the wrinkles to read the

scribbled words.

[He is a sis-con and stalks his own sister.]

John's brow twitched. Without hesitation, he crushed the paper in his hand and burned it to

crisps.

He didn't need to guess who had given Reiner such useless information. The culprit was

obvious.

"Edward..."

***

Utopian Capital

Alvara sat in the dim silence of her room, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. Days bled into weeks, each one a monotonous echo of the last. Her confinement was stifling, even if it wasn't absolute-she could leave her room, wander the halls of Utopia, but the borders

remained a cage.

Leaving Utopia meant facing an army. Not that she cared. She hadn't come here to find peace or safety. She'd come for one reason: to kill Durathiel Ruvelion.

And yet, bitterness churned within her, unbidden. The war raged on outside, and here she was, trapped in a purgatory of waiting. Waiting for her moment of revenge. Waiting to strike.

Amael's words unexpectedly rang in her mind.

"You'd stand a better chance going back to Vanadias, beating up your dumb older brother, freeing your mother, and hiding somewhere safe with Bryelle."

The suggestion had stung-a coward's path. Yet, some small part of her wondered... would

she have found happiness in such a life? Would it have been enough?

'Why does he care so much about me?'

Alvara grumbled inwardly.

She had shown him nothing but scorn, fought him at every turn, mocked his words, and yet...

Amael had nearly begged her to give up this path.

Pleading her to not fight Durathiel saying she was going to die.

If she did die... then what? Would it even matter?

"Losing someone isn't the end. You may not see it now, but there are still people who care about you.

Or maybe someone out there could completely change your perspective, your life—someone you just

haven't met yet."

She scoffed aloud. "Absurd."

This wasn't some foolish romance where a prince would ride in and save her from the

nightmare her life had become.

-Knock!

The sudden sound jarred her from her thoughts.

"Your Highness," a Utopian Guard's voice called through the door. "His Majesty, King

Durathiel, wishes to see you. He awaits on the upper floor."

Alvara's heart quickened, but not with fear or anticipation-only cold, simmering rage.

Rising from her chair, she walked off.

"Finally," she muttered under her breath.

He had returned. From wherever he had gone, whatever business had kept him occupied, he

was back. And now... now was her chance.

The guard led her to the elevator, and she stepped inside. Her thoughts focused solely on one thing: killing Durathiel Ruvelion.

Not just killing him. Destroying him. Making him regret the very moment he'd drawn his first

breath.

When the elevator doors opened, she strode out, her steps echoing in the empty corridor.

Ahead, a door loomed at the end of the hallway, and standing before it was Lykhor. The sight

of him made her lip curl in disdain. She didn't acknowledge him, didn't give him the satisfaction of a glance.

Pushing past, she entered the room.

The room was bathed in quite a glow, with large windows, offering a breathtaking aerial view

of Utopian City. Yet Alvara's eyes were not drawn to the view but to the figure standing before

it.

Durathiel Ruvelion.

His back was to her.

"Alvara Freydis Teraquin. We finally meet."

Slowly, he turned, his heterochromatic eyes-locked onto hers.

Alvara's fists clenched at her sides, her golden irises glowing faintly as rage simmered

beneath the surface.

"I understand," Durathiel spoke up feeling her emotions. "That some of my actions and decisions may have incurred your anger."

Alvara clenched her fists barely able to restrain herself from tearing his face apart. "But surely you recognize," Durathiel continued, stepping closer with measured steps, "that

we share the same vision for Utopia. A world devoid of Humans, Halves, and the lower Races."

That was enough.

Her wrist tilted ever so slightly, the faint shimmer of mana surrounding her hand as she

prepared to summon her sword. She'd planned this moment countless times, honing her focus to ensure her strike would be immediate and lethal.

He wouldn't have the chance to utter another word, much less activate the Sin of Sloth.

"If you think a part of you died 'that' day, then choose a moment-a day, an hour, even a second-to

mark your rebirth. Accept it. Start over. I swear, you'll begin to see things differently."

Her hand suddenly froze mid-motion, hesitation seizing her.

Why?

Why now, of all moments?

"And if you fail?"

"Who's going to take care of Bryelle then?"

"Elder sister! May I sleep with you tonight?"

"You are my pride, Freydis."

The memories and voices reverberated in her head.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip, hard enough to taste blood, as she forced her trembling

hand to lower.

If she was allowed to make a single wish then she would ask a life devoid of pain and just

happiness no matter how small it was for Bryelle and her.

-Spurt!

"!"

Suddenly she gasped.

Pain didn't come, but an overwhelming sense of emptiness engulfed her as something cold

and sharp pierced her chest. Mana-the very essence of her existence-was draining from her

body at an alarming rate, leaving her lightheaded and weak.

Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder.

Lykhor stood there, a maddened grin splitting his face. In his hand was a sword, shimmering

ominously silver as it pulsed with ancient mana.

"Now you belong to me...!" Lykhor snickered. He wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to

pull her closer in a twisted semblance of an embrace.

-BOOOM!

The sheer repulsion coursing through her body fueled a burst of raw strength. With what little

energy remained, Alvara sent him flying across the room, his body crashing against the wall. Lykhor crumpled to the ground, falling unconscious.

Alvara's chest heaved as she staggered, her hand instinctively reaching for the wound. The

sword that had impaled her dissolved into silver particles, which drifted like smoke before flowing back into Durathiel.

Her face turned deathly pale. She felt hollow, her mana utterly extinguished.

'Sin of Sloth...?'

Her gaze shot up, golden eyes burning with fury.

"Take her back to her room. No need to chain her." Durathiel met her glare calmly.

"She is just an ordinary woman now."