I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 717: [Blood Moon War] [58] The Fall of The Witch

"It’s over!"

"We won!"

"Yeah!"

Cheers burst across the battlefield like waves breaking against stone. The cries of victory spread, trembling with disbelief and relief.

After Rucain’s death was confirmed, a faint light of hope began to flicker once more within the Resistance ranks. Even when those grotesque crimson giants—monsters born of blood and madness—had appeared under the Vampire Witch’s control, they hadn’t given up. They fought on, teeth gritted, blades slick with blood and rain.

And finally... one by one, those abominations began to vanish.

Their gaping maws—set grotesquely in their stomachs—opened in voiceless screams. Countless eyes scattered across their bodies rolled back as they let out a haunting cry, their forms collapsing into pools of thick, steaming blood.

"It’s... over?" Gruna muttered, clutching her bleeding right arm, her face pale.

"I don’t know..." Cedric murmured, scanning the ruined battlefield. "But that’s gotta be a good sign."

Ernest frowned, wiping the grime and blood from his face. "Where’s the Witch?"

"And Edward?" Viessa’s voice trembled with worry, eyes darting across the carnage.

"I saw him," Ernest said, pointing toward the swirling crimson sphere hovering in the air. "He went in there. That’s where she is."

"..." Cleara stood silently beside them, her gaze locked on the pulsating sphere, her expression unreadable.

"The Witch’s presence hasn’t vanished!" Cedric shouted suddenly. "Stay alert—don’t let your guard down!"

The soldiers straightened immediately, their hands tightening around their weapons.

A short distance away, Daleliah and Sandor were still standing—barely. Their bodies were bleeding, trembling, but contrary to the knights who seemed to have lost hope after Rucain’s death and the Witch’s disappearance, they were still ready to fight. Even as dread crept into their hearts, they could feel it: something was changing. Something was happening to the Witch.

Daleliah’s grip on her sword tightened.

Even if the Witch fell... even if everything crumbled... she would not yield.

Then, the sphere shuddered.

A sharp ripple split the silence.

And with a thunderous crack, the crimson vortex exploded outward, scattering blood-like mist across the field.

When the haze cleared, a single figure stood within the fading light.

"Edward!" Viessa cried out, her heart leaping.

All eyes turned toward him.

He stood motionless, his face shadowed—but in his arms, he held someone gently.

The Witch.

Daleliah froze mid-step as she muttered. "Mother..."

Edward descended slowly, the wind carrying the faint whisper of his boots touching the ground. His hold on Elizabeth was careful.

A tense silence blanketed the field.

Then the murmurs began.

"It’s the Witch!"

"He beat her!"

"Kill her! Now’s our chance!"

"Yeah! Let’s end her here!"

The cries rose like a wave of hatred.

For ten long years, Sancta Vedelia had suffered beneath her shadow. Entire villages were erased, families torn apart, the land drenched in red beneath her Blood Moon spell. The soldiers’ grief had fermented into rage—and now, vengeance was within reach.

But the moment they stepped forward, Edward lifted his head.

His amber eyes glowed faintly under the dying light coldly. The soldiers froze mid-step.

Without a word, he drew Trinity Nihil. Darkness rippled across its edge—then shattered, revealing a radiant white blade, pure and gleaming.

He leveled it toward them. His gaze swept across every soldier, piercing.

"I dare," he said quietly, "any of you to touch her."

"...!"

Every knight felt a chill crawl down their spine. The hatred burning in their hearts faltered, replaced by something colder—something that told them this man, this single man, was not someone to defy.

They all gulped audibly, the pressure he was exuding pressing on them. No one dared speak—until Ernest finally found his voice.

"What... are you saying?" He asked carefully, eyes flicking from Edward to the motionless woman in his arms. "Is she still alive?"

Edward glanced down at Elizabeth’s pale face, her chest rising and falling faintly. His expression softened, just for a heartbeat.

"She is my woman," he said.

The words dropped like stones into still water. For a moment, there was only silence—then a ripple of disbelief spread through the soldiers.

Gruna’s eyes widened. She took a shaky step forward, her voice sharp with anger.

"What did you just say?! She’s the Witch! The monster who slaughtered thousands! She has to die!"

Her outburst seemed to break the spell of silence. Others joined in, their anger reigniting.

"That’s right!"

"Have you lost your mind?!"

"He must be under her spell!"

Edward didn’t even glance at them. Instead, his eyes turned to the woman standing behind him.

"Daleliah."

She stiffened, her hand tightening around her sword as she stepped forward cautiously.

"Take her. Get her somewhere safe;" Edward said.

Daleliah blinked in surprise but quickly nodded. She accepted Elizabeth’s unconscious body with care, holding her carefully.

"Sandor," she called quietly.

The other Blood Lord frowned, torn between confusion and duty. But after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded and followed her. The two began to retreat into the distance.

The Resistance soldiers watched in stunned silence.

"They’re running!"

"We have to stop them!"

Before they could move, Edward raised Trinity Nihil. With a single sweep of his arm, a towering wall of purple fire erupted behind him, crackling like a living thing. The knights skidded to a halt, faces lit by the shifting flames.

"You’re noisy," Edward said calmly.

Cedric stepped forward, eyes narrowed, sword drawn. "What are you doing, Edward?"

"She’s not the Witch anymore," Edward replied calmly. "Her name is Amaya. She was being controlled... and I freed her."

He didn’t mention the truth—that they had merged into one being.

"She killed thousands of us!" A Resistance general shouted, his voice shaking with rage.

"This is war," Edward answered quietly. "Death happens."

"You bastard!" Gruna roared, raising her weapon. But before she could lunge, Cleara caught her by the wrist.

"Wait," she said.

"Wait? For what?! He’s turned on us! He’s protecting her! We have to kill that witch before she awakens again!"

Edward’s gaze turned sharp. "I won’t repeat myself," he said, his tone slicing through the chaos. "The Witch—whatever name you give her—belongs to me. She’s not who she was. She’s been reborn... and I will not let you hunt her again."

"W–What are you saying?"

Edward took a step forward, lowering his blade slightly but never breaking eye contact.

"For centuries, your kind hunted every Vampire Witch, terrified of her power. You created your own curse—feeding her hatred with your fear. What happened these last ten years... it’s the fruit of your ancestors’ cruelty."

His voice softened, though his eyes didn’t.

"All Elizabeth ever wanted was warmth. Affection. To be treated as more than a tool or a monster. And while you shouldn’t carry your ancestors’ sins... you must bear their consequences."

He turned his gaze toward Ernest. "End it here. End the cycle of hate and blood. Look around you. The Blood Spell... it’s fading."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Slowly, heads tilted upward.

The sky above—once drenched in crimson—was changing. The Blood Moon, which had loomed for ten endless years, was beginning to pale. Its red hue melted away, revealing soft silver light that bathed the battlefield in calm, quiet radiance.

One by one, the soldiers fell to their knees. Some wept openly, clutching the dirt, unable to believe what they were seeing.

For ten years, they had lived beneath that cursed red sky—afraid to even look up.

But now... finally... they could see the moon as it truly was.

Pure, gentle and free.

"There’s no need to fight anymore," Edward said. "No new Witch will ever rise again. I can promise you that much."

Gruna’s fists tightened, rage flashing in her eyes. "You think we’ll just believe you?! After everything she’s done—after the hell she brought upon Sancta Vedelia?!"

Her shout echoed across the quiet battlefield, but Edward didn’t even look at her.

"Your belief doesn’t matter," he said coldly. "But if any of you intend to hunt her again... tell me now."

His gaze hardened as he raised Trinity Nihil. "Because if you do, I won’t hold back. I’ll carry on this war myself."

A shiver ran through the ranks. The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. They had fought too long, lost too many, to even stomach the thought of another war.

"Enough, Gruna," Ernest said finally, stepping forward.

"Ernest! You can’t be serious! That man—!"

"Enough," Ernest repeated, glancing back at her. "He isn’t our enemy."

Gruna stared at him, disbelief written across her face. "Not our enemy?! He just saved her! The Witch!"

Ernest didn’t flinch. "And he’s right about one thing. The Witch wasn’t herself—she was using Amaya’s body. Tell me, when Amaya sat with us at the council table... did she ever show cruelty? Malice? Even a hint of bloodlust?"

Gruna opened her mouth... but no words came. Memories flickered through her mind: Amaya in Vanadias Castle, was an ordinary presence beside Edward, just clingy to him she meant no harm to any of them. She had never once seemed dangerous—if anything, she’d looked fragile.

Ernest continued. "So tell me—should we really condemn a woman who was possessed? Punish someone for something beyond her control?"

Gruna lowered her gaze, silent.

Satisfied, Ernest turned back to Edward. "You said there won’t be any more Vampire Witches," he said. "Is that truly what you believe?"

Edward nodded once. "She’ll be the last."

Ernest’s brow furrowed. "How can you be sure?"

"Because this time, she won’t be left alone. I’ll be with her." He lowered his gaze, sweeping it across the faces before him. "And if anyone dares threaten her freedom—or her peace—I will end them myself."

For a thousand years, the Vampire Witch had been reborn again and again. Each new vessel—each new life—was another Chapter in an endless cycle of pain.

Why?

Was it survival? The desperate instinct of a soul refusing to die?

Was it vengeance, a curse upon Sancta Vedelia for the sins of its past?

Or... was it something else entirely?

Perhaps it had never been about revenge. Perhaps she had been searching—longing—for the one who could make her existence mean something more.

Her Darling.

To Elizabeth, that word had always been a distant symbol—of warmth, of belonging, of love she thought would never be hers. Yet when she drank Edward’s blood, she had glimpsed his heart... and realized he was real.

Now, having finally found him—her fated one, her anchor—she felt the hollow ache that had haunted her for centuries finally fade. The emptiness in her chest was gone, replaced by something gentle, something whole.

There was no need for new vessels.

No need for vengeance.

She had found what she had been waiting for all along.

Her reason to live.

Her happiness.

Her everything.

Ernest stood in silence. His eyes lingered on Edward for a long moment before he finally sighed, lowering his sword.

"Alright," he said quietly.

At once, Edward sighed and lowered Trinity Nihil. The towering wall of purple fire flickered... then dissolved into faint embers, vanishing into the air like dying stars.

A hush fell over the battlefield. Everyone’s eyes shifted toward Ernest, their breaths held, waiting—unsure if peace had truly arrived.

Then, with a deep breath, Ernest turned to face them. His voice rang out, strong and clear, cutting through the silence.

"RUCAIN IS DEAD! THE VAMPIRE WITCH HAS BEEN SLAIN! THE BLOOD MOON SPELL HAS BEEN UNDONE!" He raised his blade high into the sky, his voice booming loudly. "WE WON!!!"

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then—

A roar of triumph erupted.

Cheers exploded across the battlefield. Knights screamed, laughed, and wept all at once. They raised their swords high toward the heavens as if reaching for the moon itself. The air trembled beneath the force of their cries—ten years of pain and struggle released in one deafening moment of victory.

Gruna crossed her arms, still scowling, though her eyes were trembling. Cedric grinned and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Come on, Gruna! Ten years—it’s finally over! Look!"

He pointed upward.

Gruna hesitated, then followed his gaze. The night sky stretched endlessly above them, no longer stained crimson. The silver moon gleamed pure and whole, bathing the world in calm light.

Her lips curved into a small, reluctant smile. "...Right."

"S–Senior!"

Alicia ran up the slope, her armor clattering as she sprinted toward Edward. He was still standing, but his breathing was ragged, his shoulders rising and falling heavily.

"Alicia..." He looked at her, exhaustion etched across his face. "Elizabeth’s fine. Don’t worry."

"I–I know..." She whispered, tears already welling in her eyes. Then, unable to hold back, she threw her arms around him. "Thank you..."

Her voice broke as she cried into his shoulder.

Edward groaned softly, caught off guard, but after a moment, he lifted his hand and gently patted her head. "Yeah..."

A few moments later, Viessa approached, her palms already glowing faintly with healing light.

Edward looked at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You sure it’s wise to heal me here? After what I’ve just done?"

Viessa shrugged, her tone almost playful. "I’m the future Prophetess. No one here has the right to stop me."

Edward let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"Will Amaya be okay?" She asked softly as she placed a hand on his chest, mana flowing into him.

"She will," Edward replied with quiet nod. "She finally will."

While those on the ground celebrated, far above them—beyond mortal sight—the gods watched as well.

From a throne of light, Anuket leaned forward, eyes narrowing with interest. "It seems your protégé has succeeded, Athena. Ernest was impressive, but that other one..." Her gaze lingered on Edward. "Where did you find him and how did you hide him until now?"

Athena stood silently, her gaze fixed on the battlefield below. "I wonder that myself..."

Before Anuket could respond, Athena’s form shimmered—and vanished.

"W–Wait! Athena!" Anuket blinked in surprise, then hurried after the fading light.

Elsewhere, watching from a distant ridge, stood Amael. Lisandra and Sylvia flanked him, as they observed the joyful chaos below.

"I honestly thought you were going to step in," Lisandra said. "Especially when things started turning ugly."

Amael smirked faintly. "Funny. I thought you would intervene first—to save your beloved Mael."

Lisandra shot him an embarrassed glare..

Amael chuckled under his breath, but the amusement faded from his face after a moment. His expression grew distant, almost solemn.

"Lisandra. Sylvia." He turned toward them, his grey eyes softening. "There’s something I need to show you."

Sylvia raised a brow, arms crossing. "Show us what?" Her gaze flicked briefly toward Edward in the distance, still surrounded by the cheers of his allies.

Amael noticed and smiled faintly. "Don’t worry. I’ll give you a moment to see him off."

Sylvia’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away, muttering something under her breath.

Amael’s smile lingered, gentle and almost nostalgic. Then he turned, his cloak brushing the dirt as he began to walk away.

"I think I’ve kept you two waiting long enough," he said quietly. "This time... I’ll let you choose your own paths."

"What about you?" Lisandra asked, blinking.

Amael didn’t reply.

"My path is coming to an end," he thought inwardly knowing what was coming.