I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 685: [Blood Moon War] [29] Talk With Amael

After my little chat with the Prophetess—who, in her infinite kindness, also made sure to remind me that I was indeed going to die — I headed out with Amaya and the rest toward the dense forest outside Natulen.

We’d taken horses. It wasn’t far, but close enough that walking would’ve been a waste of time.

Our group was straightforward: me, Amaya, Viessa, Cleara, Amael, Sylvia, Lisandra, and, of course, a dozen Olphean Knights in their shiny, clanking armor.

At least, that was the lineup until the Olphean King himself decided to join us. I had honestly expected him to stay tucked away inside his palace, far from danger. But no—apparently the man had enough gall to ride out and face a Blood Lord with us. I couldn’t decide if that was courage or sheer stupidity.

”You’re too carefree, Edward,” Viessa said, eyeing me like I was a particularly baffling puzzle.

”Carefree about what?” I asked, reins loose in my hands.

”You’re dressed too lightly for what might be a dangerous fight,” she pointed out.

I glanced down at myself.

Yeah... shirt, simple pants—definitely not this era’s style. Both came from my little clothing reserve inside my spatial ring. I kept plenty of extras in there for moments like this, but... well, she wasn’t wrong.

Everyone else looked ready for war in thick, polished armor. Meanwhile, Amaya and I could’ve been on our way to a lazy afternoon stroll.

Amaya was even worse off — wearing a skirt and blouse she’d borrowed from Alicia. If she’d had her way, she’d be in her signature black, but regardless, neither outfit screamed prepared for battle. The knights probably thought we’d gotten lost on our way to a picnic.

Still, I wasn’t worried about her. The Blood Lord wouldn’t harm her—-she was far too important to them.

As for me, armor had never been my style. In every fight I’d been in, I’d gone without it. Sure, maybe that sounded reckless now, but armor slowed you down. I preferred to keep my speed.

”I don’t need flashy armor to deal with a Blood Lord,” I said. ”You’re all just worrying too much for nothing.”

Viessa’s response was to reach over and pinch my cheeks.

”You’re as stupid as my brother was,” she sighed.

I rubbed my cheeks and glared at her. Didn’t make a dent in her composure. Honestly, I couldn’t even be angry at her—she had that effect on me.

”How much longer until we get there?” I asked the Olphean King instead, my tone edging toward impatience.

”Just a little deeper into the forest,” he replied.

”Show some respect to His Majesty,” one of the knights near him barked, glaring at me.

I turned my head to look at him. ”And you are...?”

”I am His Majesty’s—”

”Don’t care,” I cut in, moving past him toward Amael and the two girls. Lisandra stiffened slightly as I approached, which made me frown.

What was that about?

I didn’t comment, just focused on Amael.

”How about you be useful and track her down?” I suggested.

Amael raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly. ”And why do you think I can find her, Mael?”

”You’re a Falkrona, right? I had the Falkrona Bloodline once, and back then I had sharp senses—could see for miles,” I told him.

He nodded. ”Indeed. I have the Core Bloodline.”

I blinked, impressed. ”Oh? You awakened the Core Bloodline?”

That was rare. In his generation, only Kleines had managed it. Outside of Waylen Falkrona, I couldn’t think of anyone else who had it—at least from what I knew about that troublesome family.

The last time I’d seen my cousins was four years ago, on my birthday. Only two of them had shown up, and they were already worthless. Then again, back then... I probably deserved the trashing I got, considering what an arrogant little bastard I was at the time.

”You had the Falkrona Bloodline, hm?” Amael asked suddenly. ”Do you miss it, Mael?”

”Well... it had its uses, I won’t lie.”

The senses were sharper, my vision stretched for miles, mana flowed back into me faster, and I could almost fly. Almost. But...

”It was just a Legacy,” I said, shrugging as if it meant nothing. ”It never really belonged to me. And now, I’ve awakened the Olphean Bloodline instead.”

Amael gave a small hum, like he wasn’t entirely convinced. ”As a Falkrona myself, I’d say the Falkrona Bloodline suits you more, Mael.”

”What’s that supposed to mean?”

”Deep down... you think so too, don’t you?” He asked, watching me closely.

”No...”

Even with the Falkrona Bloodline, I had been weak. It wasn’t even mine to begin with — Thomen had begged the God Horus to grant it to me, a mere replacement after Alea had sealed my Olphean Bloodline when I was a kid. It was never the real thing.

Still... I couldn’t deny the Legacy had been a lifeline. Without it, I wouldn’t have been able to defeat Brandon Delavoic.

Amael sighed, leaning back slightly in his saddle. ”Tell me, Edward—-what do you want in life?”

I blinked at him. ”What kind of question is that?”

”Humor me. What are you looking for?” He asked.

Even Sylvia and Lisandra glanced over, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic.

”You must have some end goal, right? What is it? Keeping Amaya safe? That Alicia too? Maybe other women as well? Or perhaps you have family you wish to see again... Or maybe,” his tone darkened ever so slightly, ”you have something deeper. Revenge, for what you’ve lost.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

This guy was digging far too much for my liking.

”It’s not about revenge,” I said, turning my eyes ahead. ”I just want to be with the people I love. And I’d do anything for that.”

”Anything?” His posture straightened, a subtle intensity creeping into his voice.

”Anything I can,” I confirmed with a nod.

”And what is it you can do?” He pressed. ”Would you give up everything—even your humanity—for that?”

I shot him a flat look. ”Are you my therapist now?”

”Therapist?” Lisandra asked, tilting her head.

”Someone who helps you recover after... bad experiences,” Amael explained smoothly.

I frowned. ”How do you even know that?”

I was certain the concept of therapy didn’t exist in this world.

”I’ve seen it,” Amael replied vaguely, his tone suggesting he wouldn’t elaborate. Then, after a beat, ”And you seem familiar with the idea as well.”

”Who knows,” I said, dismissing him with a glance away.

The truth was... after losing my parents and shooting Leon in the ground, I’d been forced into therapy. And when I thought I’d finally be free, they saddled me with that Marcel guy.

”You’re good at dodging questions,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Amael, ”but now use that Core Bloodline of yours to find her.”

”It’s not that simple.”

The reply didn’t come from him, but from Sylvia.

I steered my horse closer to hers. ”And why, exactly, isn’t it that simple?”

She stiffened slightly at my sudden proximity but answered, ”He can’t use it at its full potential.”

”Why not?” I asked.

Sylvia’s eyes flicked toward Amael. That was enough for me. I guided my horse forward, positioning it right between hers and Amael’s, blocking her view of him completely.

”Why can’t he?” I asked again, my tone sharper now.

”We don’t need to tell you that,” Lisandra said.

I turned my head to her. She looked... conflicted. Her gaze dropped to the ground, avoiding mine entirely. When I glanced back at Sylvia, she wasn’t offering anything either.

”I don’t trust any of you,” I said flatly.

That hit harder than I expected—both Lisandra and Sylvia tensed, their reactions just a shade too strong for some reasons.

”Just stay out of my sight and out of my way,” I added coldly before spurring my horse forward. The forest swallowed me as I pulled ahead.

”W–Wait, Edward!” Viessa called me in panic.

”I’m fine on my own,” I called back without slowing. ”You just keep taking your sweet time with that King.”

Branches whipped past as I pushed deeper into the woods. Predictably, Amaya was right behind me.

”Are you angry?” She asked.

”I guess.” I kept my eyes ahead. ”They’re hiding too much, and I don’t like it.”

It was strange. Normally I wouldn’t care if it were just some random guy keeping secrets. But with them? It bothered me. More than it should have.

”I can’t trust them. I don’t trust them,” I muttered.

Trust was everything to me—-had been back on Earth, too. There was a reason I’d learned to be this distrustful. That distrust had led me to Ephera and the few people I could rely on. But here... maybe I’d been too quick to hand out trust.

I smiled bitterly to myself.

I’d learned plenty since transmigrating into this world, but somewhere along the way, I’d lost parts of what made me me.

”You shouldn’t trust random people so easily either,” I told Amaya. ”You’re trusting me too much, too easily.”

”I don’t trust anyone,” she replied.

”What about me?” I asked, glancing at her.

She stared back for a moment before turning her gaze forward. ”I don’t know.”

I shook my head.

She really was a weirdo.

”Here,” Amaya said suddenly, nudging her horse into the lead.

”What? You know the way?” I asked, caught off guard.

She glanced over her shoulder and nodded.

”Then why didn’t you say that before?!” I stared at her in disbelief.

”I shouldn’t trust random people,” she said, word for word what I’d told her earlier.

”Yeah, but we’ve got a common enemy right now. We don’t have much choice but to work with those guys for the moment,” I argued.

Amaya just shook her head slightly, her expression cooling.

Fine.

Whatever.

I followed her deeper into the forest.

***

Meanwhile, in a place untouched by time—an endless expanse of gleaming white marble—rows of towering columns stretched into infinity, each etched with faint, divine runes that shimmered faintly in the light. At the heart of this space stood a magnificent throne, sculpted entirely from flawless marble. Its design was complex yet imposing, every curve and angle meticulously shaped by the master craftsman Hephaestus himself. And it was not made for just anyone—this was the seat of Zeus, God King of Olympus.

Upon that throne lounged a man whose mere presence seemed to weigh down the air. His hair was short and stark white, almost luminous under the eternal light, and his sharp blue held the power of a brewing storm. Draped in a pristine white chiton, he radiated an oppressive, godly aura.

Few dared to meet his gaze, fewer still to stand alone before him.

Yet now, Zeus was still... too still.

Not in serenity, but in boredom.

He missed the old days—the true age of Gods and Demigods—when Olympus rang with the clash of steel, the roar of titans, and the schemes of immortals. Centuries had rolled into millennia, and though the gods had since devoted themselves to peace and creation, the thrill had faded. The world had grown quieter.

Once, the likes of Samael, Lucifer, Loki, and Apophis had stirred the heavens and earth alike, bringing chaos and fire to existence itself. Their wars had been bloody, their schemes treacherous—but they had kept things... lively. Now, that era was gone. Eden’s side had prevailed. Samael was dead. Lucifer—officially—was gone as well, though everyone knew he was merely hidden, nursing his strength in some shadowed corner of existence. Loki had fallen, and Apophis had vanished into the void after his defeat at the hands of Ra and his allies.

Even the ancient prophecies of Ymir—foretelling an age of unmatched bloodshed and upheaval—seemed to have passed unfulfilled or maybe already fulfilled actually.

At least there were still women.

That, for a time, had been enough to keep Zeus from drowning in monotony. He had seduced and delighted in countless lovers, their beauty spanning worlds and realms. But even that had begun to lose its edge. Unique women—truly unique—were becoming rare.

And for a god who had known the likes of Harivel, Raphiel, Nevia, Merithra, and Enigma—women whose allure and presence could humble every Gods—anything less simply felt... lacking.

It was at that very moment, as Zeus leaned lazily on his throne, that the stillness was broken. The air twisted. Space itself seemed to ripple like water, and from that distortion stepped a figure.

Tall. Handsome. Dark as midnight. His hair, long and black, framed a face carved in shar lines. His eyes, deep and pitch-black, gave nothing away. His skin carried an ashen hue—a visible sign of divinity.

”Hades,” Zeus said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. ”To what do I owe the pleasure, dear brother?”

Hades’ expression was unreadable and his voice as cold as ever. ”I have information you might find... interesting.”

”Oh?” Zeus leaned forward, his interest piqued. ”Do tell.”

Hades was not one to visit Olympus lightly. He disliked this place, its gleaming brightness and lofty airs. For him to stand here now meant the matter was important.

”I have found her...” Hades paused, staring at Zeus.

”Who?”

”Nemesis.”