I Am The Game's Villain

"Show me what you've got, Samael's Vessel."

I unleashed my mana in a blinding surge. The air cracked as torrents of wind spiraled outward, sweeping across the palace like a storm let loose.

But Braham was ready—his Prana ignited in a shimmering golden aura that wrapped protectively around both him and his brother.

"Take Ralf away," he ordered.

Several armored men jumped to attention and began dragging the dazed Ralf away.

"Brother!" Ralf shouted.

"Get away, Ralf!" Braham snapped to his brother. He wasn't going to let him be a weakness.

I tilted my head toward Ralf, letting a smirk stretch across my face. "Rodolf," I said, not taking my eyes off Braham, "grab his brother. I happen to know a certain Queen who's just dying for a chat with him."

Braham's eyes narrowed into slits. The moment the words left my mouth, I saw the fury building behind them. Yeah... he definitely didn't like that.

"Gladly," Rodolf replied with a matching grin. He darted forward in a blur toward Ralf, but before he could even reach him, a dozen soldiers formed a human wall, blades drawn and eyes locked.

Damn. That was fast.

Braham's lips tightened. His right hand flared with golden Prana as he launched himself toward me with speed that blurred the air itself.

No time to think.

I threw up my left arm, conjuring a dense mana shield just in time to block his punch—but the sheer force of it detonated like a sledgehammer through my guard. My body flew like a ragdoll across the cavernous place, smashing into the far wall. The entire stone surface cracked on impact.

"Shit…" I groaned, sliding down in a heap as my spine screamed in protest. That one hurt.

Before I could fully recover, I sensed it—Braham closing in like a missile. But then his advance faltered.

A blinding white ray of Prana shot in from the right, slamming into him. The blast pushed him back several meters, his boots screeching against the floor.

"Roda…" Braham muttered, narrowing his eyes. "You seem... different."

She was glowing—no, pulsing—with raw, undiluted Prana. The energy around her was so pure, so concentrated, it almost rivaled Braham's own.

Without a word, she raised both hands. Twin daggers, curved and silver-edged, shimmered into her grip. And then—

She vanished.

-BOOOM!

A thunderous boom followed a split-second later as Braham's body blasted through the wall behind him, pulverizing the stone like it was paper. He hadn't even seen her coming.

He recovered quickly, flipping midair and landing on his feet. A gleaming longsword materialized in his hands as he slashed downward, just in time to parry Roda's follow-up strike. Sparks flew as steel met steel.

But Roda wasn't done.

She twisted mid-air like a phantom, planting her heel square into Braham's chest. The blow launched him further through the wall.

She didn't let up. Her foot stomped the ground and propelled her forward, wind roaring behind her. But just before she could strike again, Braham roared—and his Prana exploded outward in a tidal wave of golden light.

The shockwave rocked the palace. Chunks of the ceiling tore free and spiraled upward into the night sky, exposing the capital of Fangoria's dark skyline above.

And then, like a meteor, Braham launched himself upward—landing up in the city.

Roda watched him disappear, blades humming in her hands, eyes narrowed and she leapt following him out.

Damn it. Another city was about to get turned into rubble.

"Rodolf!" I shouted, calling out.

"I–I'm on it!" He barked back, slashing through enemy after enemy. "But these bastards are everywhere!"

He wasn't exaggerating. There had to be at least a fifty of them—armed, armored, and determined. And in the middle of it all, one of them was dragging Ralf away through the shadows.

I gritted my teeth, heart hammering. A part of me wanted to abandon everything and just go after him. But then I looked up—past the crumbling walls, past the broken pillars, and locked eyes on Roda.

She was still holding her own against Braham.

But for how long?

Her aura was burning bright, dangerously so—like a candle nearing the end of its wick. The Prana was eating away at her body maybe because she was still weakened. If this went on much longer…

"Go help her, Nyr!" Rodolf's voice rang out again, louder this time.

I glanced over.

"I'll get him!" Rodolf shouted, slamming his hand into another enemy's chest. "You get to Roda! You better not let her suffer alone again!"

Those words hit harder than I expected.

I gave him a nod and turned toward the jagged hole Braham had blasted through the ceiling. With a deep breath, I activated Samara's ability—and launched myself into the air.

I shot through the opening and landed on the stone streets up, the entire ground trembling beneath my feet.

–BOOOOM!

The night split open with a massive explosion just seconds after I landed.

I snapped my head toward the source—and there they were.

Under the pale light of the moon, Roda and Braham clashed. The force of their blows sent ripples through the air.

"Kyaaaa!"

"Run away!!"

"What the hell is happening?!"

"W–Who are they?!"

"Hybrids! Just run!"

The capital, usually quiet at this hour, was very much alive tonight—but not in celebration. No, this was pure panic. Citizens fled in all directions, screaming and shoving past one another as they tried to escape the growing battlefield.

And then—I saw them.

Knights of Fangoria rushing in from everywhere. At first, I thought they were coming to help, but then I saw what they were charging toward.

"Kill them all!"

"Yeah!"

Hybrids. Hundreds of them, pouring out of alleyways, vaulting over rooftops, emerging from the sewers. Their eyes burned with hunger, their twisted bodies surging forward as they attacked the city without mercy as if they had waited for this moment all their life.

Civilians were cut down. Homes were set ablaze. The air was filled with chaos—smoke, screams, and the metallic sting of blood.

Braham… or maybe one of his men. Someone had called them in.

And just like that, my plan to quietly take Braham down by kidnapping his brother went up in flames.

I had been too optimistic.

But there was no going back now.

Behemoth had to fall tonight.

I looked at Roda and sprinted toward her.

***

The roaring clashes and tremors from the battle raging in the heart of the capital didn't take long to reach the castle. What began as a distant uproar had now erupted into full-blown panic within the fortress walls. Courtiers and guards scrambled about like ants disturbed from their hill. No one had expected an attack—not tonight, and certainly not from Behemoth. And yet, here they were, facing an invasion that felt far more serious than any prior threat.

This time… it was different.

No one had ever seen so many Hybrids flooding into the capital. The sheer number of them dwarfed the what had struck Dolphian months ago. If that had been a storm, this was a tidal wave. Twice, maybe even three times more Hybrids were pouring into the city, and it was clear from the outset: this wasn't a warning—it was an all-out assault.

Jefer wasted no time. His voice rang clear above the chaos as he gave orders to the knights under his command while keeping a calm face. "Secure the civilians first. Get them out of harm's way."

Meanwhile, a bit away, Priscilla was trying—unsuccessfully—to calm her racing heart.

Her expression had stiffened with shock the moment she heard who was leading the assault. She had rushed, her mind focused solely on her students.

She gathered them swiftly, calling them from their rooms into the main hall. One by one, the students trickled in, some confused, others visibly nervous. She counted heads as they arrived, her heart dropping with each missing face.

She didn't even need to say the names—she already knew.

"Has anyone seen Amael and Rodolf?!" She asked.

The students glanced at each other uncertainly. A few shook their heads; others murmured quietly, but no one stepped forward. The silence that followed only confirmed her worst suspicion.

Victor stood off to the side, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in concern. He didn't answer, but his expression said everything. He had a sinking feeling those two were already out there, tangled up in the chaos outside the castle walls. He remembered Amael's words. But believing and accepting were two different things.

Still, Amael had asked something of him. Keep an eye on Celeste.

His eyes flicked to her. She was standing beside Cylien, confused and concerned.

Elsewhere, John had latched onto Amelia's hand tightly. He was whispering something to her, his tone quite serious. Whatever he said, it made Amelia stiffen and then nod quickly, eyes wide. She moved closer to him, clutching his arm like a lifeline.

Back at the front of the hall, Priscilla clenched her fists. The truth was clear now—Amael and Rodolf had acted once again their own, and had thrown themselves into the fray.

"Those two…" She muttered under her breath.

Her eyes locked onto Jefer, who was still giving orders at the knights. Her heels clicked against the stone floor as she strode toward him.

"Jefer," she called him.

He didn't acknowledge her. His focus on his knights and orders.

Priscilla's teeth clenched. She quickened her pace, stepped in front of him, and squared her shoulders. "Jefer."

Jefer finally turned his head toward her. "Professor Tepes," he said shortly, as though her name had only just occurred to him.

Priscilla clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles paled. She swallowed down the sharp urge to smack him across the face, forcing herself to focus on what mattered most—her students.

"Amael and Rodolf. They're not here. They've gone out to fight."

There was no doubt in her mind. Her gut twisted with guilt. She should have known this would happen—should've anticipated it. After all this time teaching them, knowing them… How could she have underestimated them so badly?

'I should've tied them to their beds!'

Jefer's expression darkened ever so slightly. He turned away without a word, facing his knights again as if dismissing her entirely. That casual disregard only fueled Priscilla's rising irritation.

But before she could speak again, footsteps echoed through the hall. Percy Moonfang appeared at the entrance. "Uncle."

Jefer's attention snapped to him. "Where is your father?"

"With Grandmother."

Without hesitation, Jefer gave his nephew a curt nod. "Take charge of the castle. You're in command here now."

Then, without so much as a backward glance, he turned to leave.

"Wait—Jefer!" Priscilla stepped forward and grabbed his arm, stopping him mid-stride.

He looked down at her hand, then up into her eyes, his face as calm as ever.

"I'll bring them back," he said shortly, clearly intent on going after Amael and Rodolf himself.

But her grip didn't loosen. She searched his face.

"Be… careful," she said softly, her voice finally stripped of irritation, replaced instead by quiet concern.

Jefer held her gaze for a heartbeat. Then he gave the faintest nod—a small gesture and turned away, disappearing down the corridor without another word.

Just as he vanished, a sharp cry rang out from behind them.

"Celeste?! Are you okay?!"

Priscilla turned, eyes wide, just in time to see Cylien cradling Celeste, who had collapsed to her knees in the middle of the hall.

Celeste's face was pale, her expression stricken with shock. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came—only a faint, broken sound.

Her eyes glowed a soft white light.

Then she whispered, barely audible over the noisy panicked hall.

"N–No…"