I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 732: [Final Event] [Blood Moon Festival] [14] Angry Alvara

The constricting grip of a thorny vine suddenly tightened around my arm, hauling me backward with significant momentum. It wasn’t that I had some strange affinity for pain—quite the opposite—but the sharp prick of the thorns against my flesh felt hauntingly familiar.

Naturally, I was well aware of who was behind it.

I had detected her presence earlier, but my conversation with John took precedence. It seemed she wasn't interested in waiting for my schedule to clear.

With a forceful yank, the vine hoisted me off my feet before dropping me carelessly onto the frigid ground. My back took the brunt of the impact, followed by the back of my skull; a low groan escaped my lips. Perhaps resisting would have been the wiser choice. Then again, maybe I deserved this treatment. I had vanished without a single parting word—even if the circumstances at the time had left me with no alternative.

Lifting my gaze, the first sight to greet me was a pair of elegant legs crossed gracefully. The hem of a white dress brushed against her knee, and only inches from my face was a foot adorned in sophisticated sandals—Alvara’s.

As I suspected, she hadn't actually kicked me in her rage. To be honest, it was a minor relief.

I shifted my eyes upward to meet hers. Alvara looked down at me, her expression a cocktail of stoicism and annoyance, her golden irises shimmering with a cold light.

However, seeing her carry the sleek white umbrella I had once gifted her brought a faint, involuntary smile to my face.

"You’ve certainly kept yourself occupied, haven’t you?" Alvara remarked frostily.

I pushed myself into a seated position, crossing my legs as I let out a weary sigh.

"A great deal has occurred," I answered.

Her features hardened. My vague response clearly missed the mark. Her stare became sharper, radiating a deeper chill.

"I see," she replied shortly. She uncrossed her legs and rose to her feet, clearly preparing to depart.

Her fury was palpable. Yet, I could sense her restraint. Perhaps she believed I had suffered enough after the loss of Elizabeth. Maybe she didn't wish to worsen my state. Rather than lashing out, she opted for a silent exit—a quiet manifestation of her indignation.

But I couldn't allow her to leave on those terms.

Before she could move away, I reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her toward me with gentle but unwavering strength.

She gasped in shock as she lost her balance. "...!"

I caught her easily, and she landed softly in my lap. For a heartbeat, she remained frozen, her golden eyes wide with surprise. I reached up to steady the umbrella she held, positioning it to shield both of us.

She looked charmingly flustered, and I found myself unable to suppress a grin.

That vulnerability was short-lived. Alvara quickly regained her poise and attempted to push away, but I held firm. Sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, I shifted her into a princess carry. She felt incredibly light—delicate and soft, like a fragment of a cloud that might dissipate if my hold wasn't secure.

I settled onto a nearby bench while still cradling her, placing the umbrella into the stand beside us.

"What do you think you're doing..." she whispered, glaring at me.

To anyone else, that look would be terrifying. To me, it was simply adorable.

"I don’t enjoy it when you pout," I said, smiling as I fixed the umbrella to ensure we were both covered.

Alvara turned her head with a soft huff, refusing to look at me—though the tips of her pointed ears had turned a shade of red.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, catching her eye. "If it had been possible, I would have shared everything with you."

Two weeks had passed since the chaos began. Two grueling, frantic weeks. She had undoubtedly been worried—likely consumed by anxiety. Her anger was justified; if anything, she was being remarkably patient.

She had been in Elyen Kiora during the Behemoth crisis. Upon her return, she learned of Elizabeth’s passing... and my disappearance alongside Alicia. To any observer, the situation looked incriminating.

Alvara moved slightly in my lap, trying to rise, but I placed a hand gently against her stomach to keep her seated.

"Hm!" She jumped slightly, a startled noise escaping her.

"What was that for?" I teased with a laugh.

Her golden eyes narrowed into a sharp look, which only enhanced her cuteness. She tried to push off again, but I tightened my embrace.

"Are you truly that desperate to leave?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. "Or are you just mortified to be seen in this position with a Half High Human?"

Her body went rigid, and before I could utter another word, she pressed her palm over my mouth.

"Just let me go—"

Her sentence was cut short when I kissed her palm.

"Aah!" she cried out softly, jerking her hand back and staring at me with pure indignation.

I chuckled softly. "Fine, fine. I’ll behave."

I relaxed my grip, letting her sit up properly. I didn't release her entirely, however. She remained sitting sideways on my lap, her legs resting across the bench as the umbrella provided a screen against prying eyes.

"Don’t worry," I said with a slight smile, scanning our surroundings. "No one can see us like this anyway."

That was mostly a lie—there were likely a few onlookers—but the umbrella offered at least a semblance of seclusion.

Alvara remained quiet, her gaze fixed on the distance. Her resentment hadn't evaporated.

"I said I was sorry," I repeated, my voice dropping to a whisper.

"Where did you go?" she asked after a moment. Her tone was controlled, but the underlying emotion was evident.

"Somewhere far away," I replied simply.

Her hands clenched into small fists. "You didn't go to Utopia. You went somewhere else... with her."

I blinked, taken aback by the edge in her voice. "Wait—are you actually upset because I was with Alicia all this time?"

Her golden eyes squeezed shut.

Then she let out a sneer.

I couldn't help but smile. "You're even more endearing when you're sulking, you know?"

Before she could respond, I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her gently against my side.

She stiffened, her breath hitching, but she didn't pull away.

"The situation is complicated," I said, resting my head against hers. "But I didn't vanish for a honeymoon, if that's what you're imagining. We were pulled into something massive. Something dangerous. And... escaping took longer than I anticipated."

"A great deal longer."

"I'm aware." I smiled faintly. "But I assume you found a way to release that frustration—likely by pestering every non-Elf race at the academy, right?"

"..."

"Just as I expected from my favorite racist Princess," I laughed.

I knew her tendencies all too well.

Alvara simply shrugged, as if I had paid her a compliment. Then, her eyes widened in realization as she looked at me. "You... you achieved an Ascension, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Not too long ago."

"Ninth Ascension," she whispered to herself. "And you're only eighteen..."

I gave a modest shrug. "You'll catch up soon enough. You possess divine genes. Godhood is practically in your blood."

She watched me in silence for a moment. Then, slowly, she raised her hand, her fingers grazing my face. Her touch was as light as a feather as she traced the faint scar on my jawline.

"What happened here?" she asked.

I met her gaze—those glowing golden eyes filled with a mix of worry and pride—and smiled softly. I took her hand, gently closing her fingers within my own.

"Would you like to walk with me?" I asked.

I didn't wait for her to answer. I moved her off my lap, letting her feet find the ground, and grabbed the umbrella.

"Come along, Princess," I said, angling the umbrella to shield her. "We wouldn't want the lower races catching a glimpse of you. Their filthy stares shouldn't touch you, right?"

"Hmph," she scoffed, yet she stepped close enough that our shoulders touched beneath the canopy.

Despite her haughty tone, I could tell her anger had mostly subsided.

"How is Bryelle faring?" I inquired after a short silence.

"She is fine," Alvara answered.

"Hm." I nodded. "If you encounter the Saintess later, tell her you've come on my behalf—to request the healing of Bryelle’s legs. She should be able to manage it."

The Saintess’s restoration abilities weren't granted to just anyone. Even within the Holy Church, her miracles were strictly guarded and reserved for those deemed worthy by the clergy. But Maria... Maria owed me. If Alvara invoked my name, I was certain she would assist. Whether it was Maria or Seraphina depended on who ultimately claimed the title of Saintess.

Alvara gave me a skeptical side-eye, her golden eyes narrowing. "Why not make the request yourself?"

"Well..."

I kept the truth to myself: I wasn't certain I would even be around when that opportunity arose.

A small smirk appeared on my face as I tried to lighten the mood. "To be honest? I just wanted to see you ask someone for a favor. That only happens once every few decades."

Alvara raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "That was a pathetic attempt at a deflection, my Love—and an even worse joke."

"My apologies," I chuckled weakly. "Humor was never my strong suit."

She tugged gently at my sleeve, her fingers brushing the cloth. "Then perhaps try being honest. Why don't you explain what you've been concealing? Particularly that conversation you had with your father."

Her words struck home. Right, she had been present that day.

I looked down at her. "After the Festival concludes," I finally stated, "I will tell you everything. Is that acceptable?"

"That's too far off," she countered immediately.

"It’s only two days away," I reminded her.

Her gaze sharpened. "That just happens to be the same day as Celeste’s wedding, doesn't it? I doubt that's a coincidence. Something major is going to happen that day, isn't it?" she asked, hitting the mark perfectly. "I’m quite sure you won't let that marriage go unhindered. You never do. After all, you're a scoundrel who can't help loving multiple women at once."

The words stung—but only because they were accurate.

I sighed softly, taking her left hand in mine and brushing my fingers against hers. "And yet, you still fell for this same scoundrel, didn't you?"

But the moment the words left my mouth, the humor vanished. My smile slipped. A cold sensation settled in my chest.

Was I doing the right thing?

My gaze fell, growing dark. Even now, unsure if I would survive the next forty-eight hours, I was here—holding her hand, flirting, acting as if a future was guaranteed. If I fell... this would only cause her more pain. For all of them.

Alvara...

I never wanted to be the reason for her tears again.

I started to withdraw my hand, but she tightened her grip before I could. Her fingers dug into my skin, refusing to release me. I looked up, startled.

Her cheeks were lightly flushed as she stared straight ahead.

"Alvara..." I said, turning to face her fully.

She tilted her head, a flash of confusion in her eyes. "What is it?"

"If something should happen to me—ugh!"

I groaned as she suddenly stomped on my foot.

"Nothing is going to happen," she declared sharply, her eyes flashing with irritation.

I let out a pained laugh. "Just... being prepared," I said, forcing a smile as I tilted the umbrella forward to hide her. She was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her shoulder against my arm.

"I just hope you don't go back to your old habit of incinerating people alive," I teased weakly.

Her lips curved slightly. "No. I'll probably just move on and find someone else—"

I didn't let her finish the thought.

Without thinking, I leaned down and kissed her.

"Mm!"

Her voice was cut off by a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes went wide, the gold within them flickering with shock before they slowly closed. I felt her body tense momentarily before she softened into the kiss. Her eyelashes fluttered as she gave in.

When I finally pulled away, I looked at her intently.

"You won't," I said softly, my tone carrying a different weight.

Even though I knew I shouldn't have crossed that line—even though I promised to keep things professional—I couldn't help myself. I had let my emotions override my logic.

Alvara stared back, her golden eyes swirling with emotion and her face a deep crimson. Eventually, she looked away.

"I won't..."

***

"Why are you even here?" Priscilla questioned.

In the center of Ravenia, where the paths were crowded with soldiers and Trinity Eden academy students in formation, she had been directing a group of new recruits. Her focus was on their training—until she caught sight of him.

Jefer.

He was strolling through the plaza as if he owned the place, his coat fluttering with every stride. That sight alone was enough to trigger her internal alarms.

Priscilla blinked, doubting her own vision. Then, without a second thought, she dismissed the student next to her and headed toward him.

If she had learned anything about Jefer, it was that he was never without a purpose. Every look had a meaning. Seeing him here in Ravenia—so far from his expected location—made her both inquisitive and anxious.

She narrowed her eyes as their gazes met.

The thought made her heart race in a way she didn't want to acknowledge.

Weeks had passed since Elizabeth’s death. Priscilla had barely managed to keep her composure after that day. And Jefer... he was the one who had stayed with her.

He hadn't said much then—just a calm, stoic inquiry if she was okay—but it was enough to break her walls. She had held onto him, sobbing into his chest until she collapsed from exhaustion. When she woke up in her own bed, he was gone.

They had barely spoken since. Not for lack of desire on her part, but because Jefer always seemed unreachable.

So when he appeared now, walking through the capital so casually, her pulse quickened.

Jefer halted in front of her. "Have you seen Percy?"

Her heart sank instantly.

Of course. He wasn't here for her.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "No," she said sharply, crossing her arms. "He's with another unit. You'll have to find him yourself."

"I see." Jefer nodded, his voice as neutral as ever.

Then, his focus shifted—his face darkening as he looked past her toward the city's interior. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away.

Priscilla watched his retreating back, her throat tightening. She wanted to yell out, to ask him to stay, to say something—anything—but her pride held her back.

Her fists clenched at her sides.

'Naturally,' she thought bitterly. 'I'm just a fool. Waiting for this idiot... I'll probably end up alone at this rate.'

She sighed, trying to push the ache aside. But before she could move, a familiar voice called out through the bustle.

"You're going to go bald."

Her eyes went wide. She spun around—and there he was, looking at her over his shoulder with that faint, mocking grin.

"I told you before," Jefer said, "if you keep getting worked up over everything, you'll lose your hair."

Priscilla’s face turned bright red. "W–Worry about yourself, you moron!" she yelled back, trying to sound furious despite the embarrassment burning her cheeks.

Jefer didn't answer. He just gave a small wave and vanished into the crowd, his form swallowed by the sea of people.

For a moment, she stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the spot where he had been. But as the redness faded, a small, involuntary smile touched her lips.

"Idiot," she whispered, shaking her head before returning to her students.

Regardless, her heart felt slightly lighter.

...

...

After leaving Priscilla, Jefer’s face turned grim, the warmth in his eyes disappearing instantly.

Something was definitely wrong.

A sudden wave of Prana rippled through the air.

It was Percy’s.

Jefer’s brow knit together. Why was Percy utilizing his Prana here... in the middle of the capital?

What was he up to?

Without hesitation, he tracked the faint trail that nagged at his sharpened senses. Even among werewolves, Jefer’s perception was legendary—keen enough to detect energy signatures from miles away. The flow was subtle but unmistakable, leading toward the outskirts of Ravenia.

Night had fallen over the capital. The streets were largely deserted now—citizens and travelers had retreated to their lodgings after the day's festivities. The main festival hubs were still glowing in the city center, echoing with laughter, but out here on the edge... it was silent.

Too silent.

Jefer landed soundlessly on the dark, empty street, his boots hitting the cobblestones as he scanned the darkness. The trace of Prana remained. But as he followed it further into the narrow alleys, his concern grew.

This was no longer just Percy’s Prana.

Then he caught the scent.

The faint metallic smell of blood.

Familiar blood.

Jefer’s eyes dilated. "...Roda?"

He broke into a full sprint, his body a blur in the night. The scent intensified as he moved, leading him to a dilapidated house at the end of the road. The door was slightly ajar. He didn't bother to knock—he simply shoved it open and stepped inside.

The house was freezing and deathly quiet. Dust danced in the air. Then his eyes found a mark on the floor—a smudge, a faint trail leading toward a concealed trapdoor.

He dropped through.