I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 734: [Final Event] [Blood Moon Festival] [16] Investigating With Victor

"Where has that scoundrel gone? I’ll tear him apart!" Rodolf barked as he stormed to my side, his eyes scanning the devastated street below with fury.

I had encountered my fair share of overprotective relatives, but a niece-complex was a bizarre new extreme. Suppressing a wince, I shrugged. "I only said that to get you to the rooftop."

Stunned, Rodolf stopped in his tracks, looking bewildered. "What?"

"Look down there." I gestured toward the wreckage visible from our vantage point.

He stared at the scene. "What... what occurred here?"

"An explosion," I replied. "It must have happened tonight—it was loud enough for the fireworks to mask the sound."

He knit his brows. "Right, the fireworks were going off, so I assumed—I didn't really pay it any mind."

Clearly, this wasn't pyrotechnics. The pitted stone and the foul scent riding the wind suggested a much more sinister event. "This is far from ordinary. With that absurd sense of smell you have—can you detect anyone we know?" I asked.

Rodolf didn't need further encouragement. He leaped from the roof. The knights gathered below barely noticed him as he shoved through, tossing aside shattered beams and smoldering debris with frantic strength.

Suddenly he froze, his eyes widening to a degree that looked almost manic. "N—No... it's impossible..."

I jumped down to join him. "What is it? Did you find something?"

He swallowed hard, looking as if he were choking. "I can smell Roda’s blood... and my brother’s... Jefer’s."

My own eyes went wide at that revelation.

"Hey... don’t tell me they’ve been killed. That can’t be right...?" Rodolf’s voice shook. I could sense him spiraling toward a total breakdown.

I immediately grabbed his shoulders. "Get a grip. There are no bodies here. I was here a moment ago; look at those knights, they are still searching. If they haven't found them, they might still be—don't assume they're dead yet."

He blinked, fighting to control his panic. "Y—yeah. They must be out there..."

"Then go find them," I urged. "Go now. They might be in grave danger. If blood was spilled here and they haven't checked in, something is terribly wrong. They might need your help. Don't linger."

"Yeah—right! I’ll find them!" He pushed off the ground and vanished in a blur of haste.

I watched him disappear before turning my attention back to the ruins.

Jefer. Roda.

If I were to piece together a theory from these fragmented clues, it would be this: Roda was used as bait to lure Jefer out. If Jefer was the intended target, the list of suspects was short. Only someone bold enough to challenge the Moonfangs directly would attempt such a move.

As expected, Cyril’s name surfaced in my thoughts. To dare attack Roda Moonfang and the Head of the Moonfang House? That man obviously believed he had a guaranteed path to victory tomorrow. Whatever scheme he was brewing, he was brimming with confidence.

Dammit—I forgot to ask Rodolf if anyone besides Roda was missing.

A cold sensation washed over my stomach. I sent a quick text to John and waited; he usually responded instantly when things turned strange. He sent the list a moment later.

Aside from Roda; Percy, Selene, Earth, Sirius, and Sephira were all missing that morning.

What the hell was happening?

I messaged John again.

[Earth is definitely plotting something, you realize that, right?]

His response was immediate and border-line frantic.

[Yeah, but I have no clue where he went. I’m going to find that bastard and break him.]

John had shifted since he started dating Amelia. He used to be the type to act first and think later; now he sounded... more restrained, as if he spent too much time weighing the consequences. Normally, he would have hunted Earth down the second he vanished.

However, Earth was the adopted grandson of Duncan Tepes. Killing someone with that lineage would spark a political nightmare. Reiner might even use such an event as an excuse to pull Amelia away from John.

Still—crippling him? That seemed feasible. If John had a valid reason, he might push even further.

[I’m ignoring the Group assignments now,] he texted next. [I’m staying with Amelia’s group. Celeste is here as well.]

[Good, keep an eye on her.]

I then pulled up Victor’s contact and called him. He answered almost instantly.

["Hey—"]

"Keep your voice down. Move away from the others, Victor," I interrupted before he could shout my name and alert everyone nearby.

["Understood,"] he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. After a few seconds of silence, he continued. ["Where the hell have you been, man? Everyone is worried. Celeste—"]

"We don’t have time for that. The situation is worse than we imagined. Roda was attacked."

I heard a choked sound from the other end. ["What?!"]

"Quiet," I commanded. "Rodolf is already on the hunt. I believe she’s still alive, but there’s another issue. Selene is missing as well, right?"

Victor’s voice faltered. ["Wait, Amael, don’t tell me—"]

"Yeah." I didn't hold back. "I’m fairly certain something happened to her too. I have a terrible feeling about this. Any idea where she might be?"

A long silence followed. I could almost picture Victor processing the information, trying to make the pieces fit.

"Victor?"

Finally, he spoke with annoyance, ["I think I have an idea... Cyril said something strange to her earlier. Dammit."]

Just as I suspected, Cyril was involved.

"Meet me at the Royal Castle," I instructed. "Wait for me there."

He gave a brief confirmation, and I hung up. There was no sense in standing around; every second was vital.

I pulled my hood over my head and departed.

***

"Damn it all!"

Rodolf’s snarl cut through the night as he leaped between rooftops, his boots striking tiles with heavy thuds that shattered the quiet. His movements drew shocked stares from vampires and night-time travelers below—members of various races paused to watch the werewolf bound across the city.

In the Moonfang Kingdom, such a rooftop sprint was commonplace. But here, in the center of Ravenia, the vampire capital, it was anything but normal. To the locals, it looked like a wild beast was invading their space.

Rodolf didn't give a damn.

He clenched his teeth, fangs bared, his face twisted in grief. He hissed through his teeth, "I won’t lose you again..."

Roda.

The mere name made his heart ache. For the older Roda, he had failed to be a proper uncle. All he had managed was a final hug... before she passed away. He had vowed that day that he would never let her suffer again. Not this time. Never again.

He had already lost too much—all tracing back to Earth.

"Jefer... where the hell are you?" Rodolf growled, his voice rasping. His only comfort was the faint, lingering scent of Jefer’s blood on the breeze—it meant Roda wasn't alone. But it also filled him with dread. If Jefer was bleeding, the situation was already dire.

"What were you even doing here in the first place..." he muttered, his frustration reaching a boiling point. What business did Jefer have in Ravenia? It made no sense. Nothing about this felt right.

He landed on another roof and paused, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The metallic tang of blood in the air was suffocating. To most, the city smelled of expensive wine and marble, perhaps the sweet scent of incense from the alleys. But to a werewolf, Ravenia smelled of perfume and blood.

There were too many scents. Too many lives packed together. Picking out a single trail was nearly impossible.

"Useless," he spat, scanning the streets with narrowed eyes. His phone vibrated in his hand, but there were no alerts. No calls. Only silence.

That silence felt heavier than any noise.

Then—a flicker. A slight ripple in the atmosphere. His head snapped toward it instantly.

That trace of Prana—he recognized it instantly.

Roda.

In that moment, he lunged forward, the world turning into a blur as he accelerated. The tiles beneath him shattered upon takeoff, and he streaked through the city like a golden flash, following the invisible thread of her essence. Her presence grew stronger with every bound, her voice a faint, trembling echo in his mind.

"Roda..."

He flooded his body with more Prana, coating his limbs and claws. A dangerous aura crackled around him. His speed surged with one final push and—

There!

Below him, in a blood-stained street corner, he spotted her. Roda—wounded, barely able to stand, surrounded by armored Ravenian Knights. Jefer lay a few meters away, still, his chest barely moving.

Rodolf’s pupils narrowed into slits.

His fury exploded.

"You bastards!!" he screamed.

The knights turned in surprise—but they were too late.

Rodolf descended like a bolt of lightning, his hand wreathed in burning Prana as he struck.

-BOOM!

The resulting shockwave ripped through the square, tossing a dozen soldiers aside like discarded dolls. He stepped forward, moving faster than they could follow, his kicks crushing armor and bone in a single motion. The air was filled with the sound of bending steel and bodies hitting stone.

When the last soldier fell, Rodolf stood panting in the middle of the carnage, his claws stained crimson.

He immediately turned to Roda.

Roda was barely conscious, her breathing shallow and her eyes glazed with fatigue. When she saw him, her lips quivered and tears finally spilled over. She sank to her knees.

"U–Uncle..."

"Roda!!"

He was at her side instantly, catching her before she could fall. His voice cracked as he inspected her wounds. "What happened?! Dammit!"

He glanced over at Jefer, who was clinging to life, his chest barely rising.

He had never seen his brother in such a broken state.

"I–It’s my fault..." Roda sobbed. "Uncle tried to protect me and I—"

"Who did this?" Rodolf asked, his voice dark and trembling. "Tell me, Roda. Who attacked you?"

Her tears fell faster, her words breaking between sobs.

"B–Brother... Percy... he called me and..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. The rest was drowned out by her grief.

Rodolf’s face turned to stone, his eyes darkening to a void of pure black.

"Percy..."

***

"Amael, over here!"

I heard Victor before I saw him; he was waving at me from the castle entrance.

"I’ve been waiting forever!" he grumbled as I reached him.

"I was on the other side of the city," I replied, trying to catch my breath.

His eyes widened as he remembered the situation. "Right—Roda! You said she was under attack! Has Rodolf found her?"

I shook my head. "No idea. But knowing Rodolf, he won't stop until he does."

Victor exhaled slowly and nodded, but his expression betrayed his desire to join the search. However, we both knew Selene was the more pressing concern. She had been unstable since Elizabeth’s passing, and if Cyril was involved, leaving her alone was a recipe for disaster.

"Let’s go," I said.

He nodded and took the lead. "He’s with me," Victor informed the guards as we approached the castle gate. They gave me a suspicious look, but recognizing Victor, they allowed us through.

Inside, the castle was unexpectedly quiet. Most faculty and students were still out on the field trip, meaning we had the place largely to ourselves.

"Are you certain we’ll find Selene here?" Victor asked, his voice echoing in the grand hallway. "I checked earlier—she was nowhere to be found."

"I’m not sure," I admitted. "We’re here for clues, not necessarily people. Where are Lazarus’s quarters?"

He pointed ahead. "This way. Follow me."

We moved deeper into the royal wing, our steps silenced by the thick crimson carpet. The architecture was stunning, significantly flashier than the Castle of Valachia.

We eventually stopped before a pair of massive double doors. They were shut tight.

Victor frowned. "Why is it locked? It shouldn't be."

"Who knows," I muttered. Without pausing, I kicked the wood with all my might.

The decorative door splintered with a loud crack, the noise reverberating down the empty hall.

Victor winced. "Right... as subtle as ever."

"No time for being subtle," I said, entering the room.

The office was in shambles—papers were strewn about, drawers were left open, and the air was thick with the smell of dust and old parchment. Shelves once filled with neatly organized books were now half-bare, and the curtains were pulled shut. Victor flipped the light switch, illuminating the chaos.

"Man," he whispered, scratching his neck. "After his imprisonment, people scavenged this place looking for any hidden plots. I guess they came up empty."

"Perhaps," I said, surveying the room. "But they might have overlooked something."

He arched an eyebrow. "You think so?"

"I’m sure of it."

My advantage lay in knowing the game’s story; I could spot patterns others missed. The minor details that seemed irrelevant to them were exactly what I needed.

I walked to the desk, where several books were arranged in a semi-circle, their aged pages covered in handwritten notes. My eyes narrowed as I saw a specific name repeated in the files.

"The Vampire Witch..." I whispered.

Victor leaned in, looking over my shoulder. "Yeah. My grandfather was obsessed with her. Cyril was too, actually. That’s what sparked his interest in Selene."

"Because she was the Vessel," I noted, leafing through the pages. "But a vessel is useless without the essence—and that was inside Elizabeth."

"Yeah." He sighed. "I recall how crushed he was when Elizabeth died."

I frowned. "I’ll never understand a man like him."

Victor gave a short, cynical laugh. "I grew up with him and I don't understand him either. He was... kind at first. Gentle, even. But then he began spending all his time with him."

The venom in his voice when he said 'him' left no doubt as to who he meant.

"Lazarus Raven," I said softly.

Victor’s jaw tightened. "Don't even call him that. He’s no father. Not to me."

I nodded in understanding.

I turned another page, reviewing the notes—diagrams of mana circles, anatomical drawings, and ancient vampire spells. Cyril and Lazarus’s obsession wasn't merely academic.

It was dangerous.

"It’s good that you found your mother," I said, thinking of Thelma—Victor’s mother, who was finally back. In the game’s lore, there had been rumors about her, hints that never quite clarified, so even I was surprised when the truth surfaced.

"Right?" Victor smiled. "By the way, she was a bit bummed she didn't get to meet you. You know?"

Right—Thelma Olphean had been taken before Amael was even born. She likely never knew Alea was pregnant before that piece of trash abducted her.

"When this is over, you should come with me," Victor said, rubbing his chin as if planning future family gatherings. "I’m glad we turned out to be cousins. I always felt we had a connection!"

"Sure..." I replied, my smile feeling a bit forced. I was happy for him—he’d reclaimed something he lost—but I couldn't share that same joy. Some parts of my life were gone forever.

I closed the book and continued searching. The room was heavy with the scent of old paper, and beams of moonlight pierced through the curtains. My fingers moved carefully over the brittle pages.

"Dammit, do we really have to search every inch? Selene could be in trouble," Victor complained, growing restless.

"She won't be in immediate danger—Cyril needs her alive," I explained. "But if we don't figure out what he wants with her, we won't have any way to stop it."

Victor nodded reluctantly. "You're right."

"Focus on anything related to the Vampire Witch," I told him, turning back to the bookshelves. "He was hunting for a specific spell."

My hand brushed against the spines until it landed on a volume pushed further back than the rest. The shelf shifted under my pressure—and a click echoed.

"Huh?"

"No way," Victor breathed. I was just as shocked. The shelf slid aside with the sound of gears, revealing a hidden, dimly lit room.

I entered, using my phone as a flashlight. This smaller chamber felt much older; the air was chilly and dry, like a tomb. Ancient books lined the walls, their leather covers cracked and titles faded. On a desk, parchments were spread out, covered in symbols that looked like frozen veins. Intricate mana circles were drawn with precision, and the dark stains on the paper suggested something other than ink had been used.

I held my breath. The script wasn't a modern language—it had a jagged, ancient look that reminded me of the texts in the Enigma Dungeon.

"Blood Moon Spell," Victor whispered beside me.

"What?" I looked at him, surprised. "You can read this?"

"A bit," he said, frowning as he picked up a parchment. "All of this—the trials, the rituals... it all points to a Blood Moon Spell."

I scanned the text.

"Knowledge alone isn't sufficient," I noted. "When the Vampire Witch cast this, it took her ten years to recover. Her original body was completely spent, and it took a decade to find a new Vessel."

Cyril shouldn't be capable of a spell of that magnitude...

"No," Victor said.

"What is it?"

Victor swallowed hard, looking at me with pure dread. "They don't care about perfection," he said. "They only intend to use it on a smaller scale."