I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 742: [Final Event] [Blood Moon Festival] [24] Cyril VS James And Melfina

”G–Grandma...” Celeste’s voice trembled, her eyes welling with tears the moment she saw Melfina standing there.

The old woman’s expression was serious and cold much like James.

James stood frozen for a few seconds, his jaw tightening as his gaze fixed on the figure before him.

He couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t want to believe it.

His own son had gone this far... to attack Central Vedelia itself.

”What have you done, Cyril...” James muttered in disbelief.

”Father, as always, you’re late,” Cyril replied with a mocking chuckle, crimson mana flickering faintly around his body.

James took a slow step forward, trying to make sense of it. ”Why did you do this? My father—your grandfather—he must have done something to you, right? Lazarus must’ve filled your head with lies.” His tone cracked, desperate to find a reason, any reason that could make this make sense.

But Cyril only smirked, his expression twisting with disdain.

”Grandfather did nothing. It’s you, Father—always wrong, always failing. What else could I expect from such an incapable man?”

The words cut deep.

James clenched his fists.

”Enough, Cyril,” Melfina finally said. ”Stop this madness. You’ll be surrounded soon, and you know how this ends. You can’t win here. Surrender before you lose everything.”

And she wasn’t wrong.

Even with whatever strange power boost Cyril had gained, it wouldn’t last. The other Heads of Vedelia would arrive soon, and when they did, he’d be crushed under their combined might.

But Cyril didn’t seem worried in the slightest.

He simply smirked full of confidence.

He wasn’t foolish enough to throw himself into a hopeless battle.

The massive crimson Blood Moon Circle still pulsed in the sky above. Its glow bathed everything in a sickly red light. It wasn’t finished yet; it was still feeding, still demanding more blood to strengthen its effect. Once it was complete, Central Vedelia would be completely under his control.

A sharp lance of ice cut through the air toward him.

Cyril tilted his head slightly, dodging it with a smile.

Melfina’s body began to shimmer with frosty blue mana.

Icy wind swirled around her, crackling and howling as countless blades of ice formed at her sides before she launched them in an icy storm.

-BOOOOM!

Cyril laughed, spinning mid-air as shards of ice exploded around him. But his amusement faded when a crimson light flashed from the left —James Raven, his sword wreathed in blazing red aura, charged in like a comet.

Cyril barely managed to raise his hand before—

-BOOOOOM!!

The two forces collided with a shockwave. The impact shattered the buildings around and sent shockwaves rippling through the air. For a split second, Cyril smirked, thinking he’d stopped the attack—but then he noticed the glow gathering under his feet.

Too late.

The burst of mana detonated like a bomb, engulfing him completely. His eyes narrowed just before the explosion hurled him across the sky, sending him crashing through buildings as he tumbled toward the inner city of Sancta Vedelia.

James sighed.

He knew what he’d done was dangerous—there were still civilians evacuating and soldiers fighting there—but keeping the battle near the Holy Tree was even riskier. One wrong move, and things could get even worse.

Melfina prepared to follow, but she glanced at her granddaughter.

”Bring Harvey inside the Holy Tree, Celes,” she said.

”Grandmother... Father, he’s—” Celeste’s voice broke, trembling as she looked at Harvey’s motionless body.

”You are the Prophetess, Celeste,” Melfina said, her tone softening just a little. ”And Harvey bears the Tree’s blessing. Bring him inside—its light will preserve him. It’ll give him more time, maybe even heal him faster.”

Celeste wiped her tears, nodding quickly. ”Y–Yes, Grandmother.”

Melfina turned next to her grandson who was struggling to stay upright, one hand pressed against his bruised ribs. ”You too, Evan. Go with your sister. Protect her.”

”Y–Yeah...” He grunted, forcing a faint smile through the pain. Every breath hurt, and he could tell something was broken inside, but that didn’t matter. He just wanted to rush back out there and punch Cyril himself—but deep down, he knew he’d only get in the way now.

So he nodded and went to Celeste’s side, helping her lift Harvey’s body. Together, they carried him carefully toward the Holy Tree.

Melfina’s eyes drifted between her dying son and her grandchildren, her chest tightening with a pain.

’How... how did things come to this?’

She couldn’t stop the thought from surfacing, heavy and bitter.

So much had gone wrong—and so quickly.

The last year alone had been a storm of grief, chaos, and senseless tragedy.

Of course, the pain hadn’t begun there. Long before this madness, there had been Connor’s death... her husband’s passing... Thelma’s disappearance... and the supposed death of Kleines. Each of them had been wounds she’d never truly recovered from. But this past year—this one cursed year—had been unbearable.

And it all seemed to have started around the time Amael and John arrived in Sancta Vedelia.

Many whispered that it was no coincidence. That their presence had somehow drawn calamity after calamity to the Holy island.

But like Claudia, Melfina never blamed them.

No—she had watched closely. Too closely.

And in every single tragedy—the attack on Zestel, the fall of the Dolphian Capital, the devastation at Vanadias, the Utopian War, even the Behemoth attack at Moonfang—Amael had never once been the cause.

He was merely there, caught in the current of fate, dragged into disaster after disaster like a moth drawn to flame.

Still... even Melfina couldn’t deny that he carried a strange aura of misfortune.

Everywhere he went, something terrible followed—as if he were a magnet for calamity.

But could she truly fault him for that?

When she was the one who had personally insisted that Celesta bring him here, to Sancta Vedelia, even after he had been imprisoned?

No.

Her heart refused to shift the blame onto him.

Melfina sighed softly, shaking her head to drive away the thought.

Her gaze turned toward the side—to the battle raging between Alector and the thing that had once been Elizabeth.

”Lord Guardian, you shouldn’t waste your time here,” Melfina called out.

”I’m aware,” Alector replied sharply, ducking under a wild swing from Elizabeth’s blade. His voice had a hint of frustration. ”But this thing doesn’t die. I’ve struck her heart three times already, and she keeps moving. She doesn’t even feel it.”

Elizabeth’s pale face was twisted into something monstrous now, her eyes empty, her movements jerky and unnatural.

The Blood Art animating her body kept her fighting long after death had claimed her, and Alector’s expression showed he hated every second of it.

”A vampire would be a better opponent for her,” he muttered under his breath, his staff flashing again.

To him, fighting a corpse animated by dark blood art was an absurd waste—a task beneath a high elf of his standing. Every strike that should have killed her only drained his mana further.

”Where’s Claudia?!” Alector shouted suddenly, parrying another attack that split the stone under his feet. ”I can do something against this cursed spell—but I need to reach the Tree!”

Melfina’s eyes flicked toward the towering Holy Tree in the distance.

”She’s inside, protecting it,” Melfina answered.

Alector swore under his breath. ”Then you’ll have to take my place, Melfina. I can’t leave her free—”

”I regret that I cannot,” Melfina cut him off sharply.

She turned her gaze back toward the battlefield ahead.

There, amidst the explosion of mana and blood two figures clashed.

James and Cyril.

Father and son.

Their swords collided again and again, each blow echoing like thunder through the ruined streets of Ravenia.

A battle between vampires—fast, brutal, and merciless.

Crimson mana flared around them like a storm, each strike leaving trails of blood in the air.

Cyril was stronger now, there was no denying that—but James fought with the weight of experience, of discipline. He matched every swing, countered every reckless charge, but it was clear he was nearing his limit.

Melfina could see it in his movements—the slight delay, the fatigue behind each breath.

James Raven was strong, but not unbreakable. More importantly there was hesitation and pain in his gaze as he fought his only biological son.

Melfina moved before anyone could react. With a sweep of her arm, a sharp gust of freezing wind tore through the battlefield, and a crescent of ice surged toward Cyril like a wave ready to swallow him whole.

Cyril pivoted easily, the attack slicing past him and freezing the air in its wake but Melfina wasn’t finished.

Her eyes glowed as she raised one hand high above her head. Instantly, the air around her shimmered with countless motes of blue light. One after another, twelve mana circles formed around Cyril, encircling him in a perfect sphere.

Each circle pulsed, humming with mana, and before he could react, tendrils of icy mana erupted from the circles—a blizzard confined within a prison.

-BOOOOM!

The explosion of frost engulfed everything inside.

A violent burst of white light filled the sky as Cyril was trapped within a crystalline prison of ice, the temperature dropping so sharply that the ground itself began to crack and frost over.

Through the thick walls of frozen mana, Cyril’s expression could barely be seen, he was wearing a calm smile. But then—

Crack!

Tiny fractures began to spread across the ice.

A deep crimson glow pulsed from within the prison.

And then, with a deafening roar, it shattered shards of enchanted ice scattering like shattered glass as a surge of blood-red mana exploded outward.

-BOOOOM!

James was already moving expecting this. He charged straight through the storm of shards, sword raised high, the crimson aura around him burning brighter than ever.

”CYRIL!” He yelled, bringing his blade down in a blinding arc.

Their swords met with a thunderclap that split the ground beneath them.

A shockwave rippled through the air, flattening debris and tearing through the streets of Ravenia, cars and other fragile structures blown away.

”That’s enough, Cyril!” James said. ”You’ve gone too far!”

”Exactly, Father,” Cyril smirked. ”I’ve gone too far and that’s why I can’t stop now!

Before James could respond, Cyril’s knee twisted, and with lightning speed, he drove a powerful kick into his father’s side.

-BAM!

The sound of bones cracking echoed. James grunted, blood spilling from his lips as he was hurled across the ground, crashing through a collapsed wall.

Cyril breathed slowly, the crimson aura swirling around him like smoke and then, suddenly, he froze.

His eyes flicked upward.

A chill cold crawled to his skin.

Above him, a massive nine-layered mana circle had formed glowing with icy-blue radiance. The pressure alone made the air heavy, every layer of the circle pulsing powerful mana.

Around him, countless ice spears, each the size of a tree trunk, hovered in the air all pointed directly toward him..

Melfina stood a short distance away, her expression unreadable. Frost clung to her white hair as she breathed cold air.

”If you have no intention of stopping,” she said, ”then I regret that I cannot let you live any longer, Cyril.”

Cyril laughed softly, lifting his sword. ”Headmistress... you can only say that if you can kill me!”

Melfina didn’t hesitate. Her mana flared and the storm descended.

Dozens of icy lances shot toward him in a blinding barrage. The first spear barely missed him, grazing his cheek. The second came from the side that he parried it with a sharp swing, shattering it to shards.

But the moment his blade connected, a surge of frost ran up his arm freezing his muscles, slowing his movements.

”Tch...” Cyril let out, annoyed.

The third came. He twisted, swung again slower this time. The fourth he barely blocked. By the fifth, he was forced to use his free hand.

Blood erupted from his palm, swirling violently around him before detonating into a thousand crimson shards, blood needles which blasted outward in all directions.

-BOOOM!

They tore through the incoming ice spears and continued toward Melfina like a storm of red lightning.

Her reaction was fast as she raised her arm, summoning a massive wall of ice before her.

The blood needles pierced through, shattering layer after layer. Several struck her shoulder and side, drawing blood.

”Ughh!” She groaned, staggering back. The sting burned, blood arts had a way of searing through mana barriers and flesh alike.

But she didn’t stop. Even as more of the crimson needles came, she swung her sword, cutting through them midair in bursts of frost and vapor. Her eyes never left Cyril.

He was breaking through the last line of spears now, his body wreathed in blood as he laughed.

But Melfina’s expression didn’t change.

She lifted her hand once more, her gaze rising to the giant blue mana circle still shining above Cyril.

Then, with a calm breath she released it.

”...!”

Cyril’s eyes widened as he looked up. From the massive glowing circle above, colossal chains of ice burst downward like spears of judgment, glimmering with cold light as they sliced through the air toward him.

He narrowed his eyes, instinct taking over. The first chain struck with a deafening crash, but Cyril twisted his body aside just in time, the frigid wind brushing against his cheek. Before he could breathe, a sharp spear of ice whistled toward him.

He swung his sword in a flash of steel, shattering the spear midair. But the moment his blade connected, a wave of chilling frost spread beneath his feet, freezing the ground and slowing his movements. The air itself seemed to thicken around him.

Another chain came crashing down. Cyril raised his weapon once again, muscles tensing, and met it head-on. The impact sent sparks and shards of ice flying in every direction. Blood trickled down his arm, but he gritted his teeth, forcing his sword through until—

-BOOM!

The chain exploded into icy fragments, scattering across the frozen field.

He didn’t even have a second to enjoy that small victory before another spear slammed into his side, tearing through flesh.

”Ugh...” Cyril staggered, his breath turning to mist.

When he looked up again, his crimson eyes reflected what came next—dozens of chains, twisting and writhing as they descended upon him like serpents from the heavens.

And then—

-BOOOOOOM!!!

The explosion swallowed him whole. The world went white with frost.

Far away, Melfina stood amid the blizzard of shards, blood dripping from the corners of her mouth. Her body trembled, her robes torn and soaked crimson, yet her eyes remained calm.

She breathed slowly, the frost in her breath fading into the wind.

As Headmistress... doing this to a student is unforgivable.

But Cyril had gone too far. He was no longer someone she could protect.

She lifted her gaze toward the crimson dome still crackling in the distance. Her heart ached with guilt and exhaustion. She only hoped... it would all end soon.

Then—

-Spurt!

Her eyes widened. A sudden warmth bloomed across her chest.

She looked down to see a blade bursting out through her sternum, glistening red.

”...!”

Her lips parted in disbelief. Slowly, she turned her head.

Cyril stood behind her—bloodied, torn, but very much alive. His mouth curled into a cold, almost amused smile.

”You nearly had me there, Headmistress. Truly impressive,” he said softly. ”I should’ve known better than to underestimate you.”

”H–How...?” Melfina gasped, pain and confusion twisting her face.

”You still don’t get it?” Cyril tilted his head, his crimson eyes gleaming as he tightened his grip on the sword’s hilt.

Melfina froze as she saw her blood rushing along the blade—being sucked in. It was being absorbed straight into Cyril’s body.

His pale skin regained color. His wounds sealed, his breathing steadied, and his expression darkened with satisfaction.

”This spell,” he said slowly, savoring the words, ”is the reason the Vampire Witch was never defeated during the Blood Moon War.”

Melfina coughed violently, scarlet staining her lips. ”What... are you... saying...?”

”The Blood Moon Spell,” Cyril continued, ”grants immortality through blood. The Vampire Witch was invincible beneath its glow. She couldn’t be killed by normal means. Only a miracle—or something unexplainable—saved Sancta Vedelia five hundred years ago. But I won’t repeat her mistake.”

He drove his sword deeper into Melfina’s body, the sound of flesh tearing echoing between them.

”As long as blood exists,” he said, ”I can survive. I just have to drink.”

He yanked the blade free. Melfina’s body sagged forward, her once radiant face now pale and withered. She fell to her knees, the last remnants of her strength fading away.

Her dimming eyes drifted toward the sky.

”I’m... sorry...” She whispered.

Her final thoughts were not of pain, but of her family—her son, her grandson, her granddaughter.

Maybe that was what she deserved after her husband’s crimes and having hidden them...

Cyril licked his bloodstained lips, his body now pulsing with new strength. He turned—and saw Celeste standing a few meters away, her entire body trembling.

”Grandma...”

”Oh? You came a bit late, Celes,” Cyril chuckled.

Celeste’s eyes filled with tears as she rushed forward, collapsing to her knees beside Melfina’s body.

”Grandmother!! Grandma!! Please, wake up!” She screamed, shaking her gently. But the old woman’s body remained cold and still.

When Celeste finally looked at her grandmother’s lifeless face, the world seemed to stop.

Her lips trembled. Her tears fell without restraint. ”N–No... Grandma... please...” She sobbed.

”That’s reality, Celeste,” Cyril said quietly, extending his hand toward her. ”Join me. Before you lose anyone else.”

For a heartbeat, there was only silence.

Then—Celeste’s body erupted in a blinding white light.

-BOOOOOOM!!!

Cyril leapt backward, shielding his face. When the light dimmed, he looked down and saw that his right arm—was gone.

He grunted in pain, clutching his shoulder, and glanced back toward her.

Celeste stood there, eyes blazing pure white, her white hair billowing like silk caught in the wind. Every trace of hesitation had vanished from her expression.

Cyril’s lips curved into a delighted smile. ”Now that’s more like it...”