I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 505: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [44] New Responsibility

Chapter 505: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [44] New Responsibility



After tending to Alvara, I decided against heading straight to Elyen Kiora. Instead, I allowed myself a well-deserved rest within the confines of Utopia, opting for the solitude of another room before setting out at dawn.

By the time I arrived at Elyen Kiora, the sun hung high in the sky, marking noon with its golden rays spilling over the bustling city. My first destination was an apartment which was the temporary refuge for Vina and Ron.

Inside, Ron was asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I decided not to disturb him and instead turned my attention to Vina, who greeted me with a nod.

"Thanks for taking care of him," I said.

She acknowledged my gratitude with a silent tilt of her head.

"You've been a tremendous help," I added, a trace of genuine appreciation coloring my tone.

Though I knew now that her intervention had been at Viessa's behest, it didn't diminish the weight of her actions. Questions brewed in my mind about her connection to Viessa, but I chose to hold them back-for now.

"Is there a reason?" I asked as I regarded her carefully.

Vina met my gaze, her expression unreadable, before she shook her head lightly. "I'm doing it for my own reasons. You promised me a place to rest at Sancta Vedelia..."

"I did," I affirmed with a nod, "and I'll keep that promise. You have my word."

Her lips curved ever so slightly into what could have been a faint smile, though it was fleeting. "Then that's enough," she replied softly, her voice tinged with weariness. She glanced away, her next words spoken with unguarded vulnerability. "I'm tired of living...alone."

Her admission caught me off guard, and for a moment, I could only stare at her, my chest tightening unexpectedly. My hand moved instinctively, reaching toward her head.

Vina's eyes widened in surprise at my gesture, her breath hitching as she stared at me.

"You won't anymore," I said awkwardly, my hand hovering before retreating as I shifted the subject clumsily. "By the way, I might need your help again...for something."

***

After leaving Vina, I made my way straight to the royal castle.

A maid—one of Freyja's seemingly endless cadre of devoted followers-greeted me with an exaggerated bow before leading me toward the dining hall. "Her Highness is currently taking her lunch," she informed me as though the very act of Freyja eating was sacred.

When I arrived, Freyja was seated at the head of an ornate table, her every movement radiating elegance. She held a silver fork delicately in one hand, slicing into a perfectly cooked piece of meat. Raising the morsel to her lips, she chewed thoughtfully, her golden eyes lifting to meet mine as if she had sensed my presence long before I entered the room.

After swallowing, she sipped from a crystal goblet. A smile graced her lips then.

"Is it done?" She asked.

"Viessa is dead," I replied simply, though I suspected she already knew.

Her smile widened ever so slightly. "Excellent work." She placed her utensils down with care, folding her hands on the table. A pensive look crossed her face before she continued. "Did she say anything to you before she died? About me, perhaps?"

"No," I said, shaking my head.

She spoke only about me... though I didn't fully understand her words.

Freyja fell silent, her golden eyes narrowing in thought. I had expected her to be jubilant, triumphant even, but instead, she seemed distracted, almost perturbed.

"Good work," she said at last. "Now, as promised, I shall grant you any wish you desire." My wish...

With Cleenah's assistance in acquiring Brisingamen, there wasn't much I truly needed from Freyja. What could I possibly ask of her?

"I'm still undecided," I admitted after a moment. "May I reserve the request for later?"

"Perhaps." Durathiel mumbled. "Perhaps I should have sent Elashor to deal with Dolphis and

tasked Bakarel with handling Valachia instead."

"Your Majesty's decision to place King Bakarel at Central Vedelia was wise," Atharn replied, shaking his head. "I am confident we will soon receive excellent news from him."

Durathiel remained silent.

Finally, he asked, "And the Sin of Wrath? Have you located him?"

"We are still searching, Your Majesty."

"And the Seed and the Prophetess?"

"They are together, Your Majesty. At Zestella's borders," Atharn said.

"At the same place?" Durathiel's eyes flickered. "Contact Behemoth."

"At once, Milord." Atharn bowed deeply and was about to leave when another presence

interrupted.

A figure stepped forward-Lykhor Elaryon.

Atharn moved swiftly, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his blade as he glared at

him.

"Let him pass, Atharn," Durathiel said.

At his king's command, Atharn reluctantly stepped aside. Lykhor approached. Durathiel's eyes turned to him. "Have you recovered from your injuries, Lykhor Elaryon?"

Lykhor gritted his teeth. "Are you mocking me?"

Durathiel's gaze sharpened, and a single glance sent an involuntary shiver down Lykhor's

spine.

"You came to me of your own accord, asking for Alvara Teraquin's hand," Durathiel said. "I told you I had no interest in her and made it clear what you had to do. You did it. What more do you expect from me?"

Lykhor's fists trembled at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. "Yes, I did as you said-I stabbed her! But now she hates me even more! What I want is for her to accept me!"

"She will never accept you," Durathiel said before adding. "At least, not willingly." Lykhor groaned but then something shifted. His eyes widened, and his lips twisted into a grotesque smirk that made his unhinged intent all too clear. "Ahahaha! I know how to make her accept me," he said with a laugh. "Bryelle. I overheard her

talking to Allen about her mother and I am sure Bryelle as well. That man knows where she is. I'll use Bryelle to force Alvara to accept me."

Durathiel's gaze remained still, the faintest flicker of pity crossing his heterochromatic eyes as he observed Lykhor's madness. Yet, deep down, he saw the potential in this madness. If

Lykhor's scheme could destabilize Sancta Vedelia further and shatter Alvara's spirit, why not

let him proceed?

He turned slightly. "Atharn. Give him some of our finest Utopian Knights."

Atharn inclined his head in acknowledgment

Durathiel then turned and walked off. "I wish you good fortune, Lykhor Elaryon."

Lykhor's twisted smirk only widened.