I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 741: [Final Event] [Blood Moon Festival] [23] Sephira And Adrian Under Spells

This situation was grimmer than I had anticipated.

No—it was far more dire than my worst fears.

My expression turned grim as I stood at the boundary of Central Vedelia, surveying a city plunged into total ruin and madness.

In the game, this location never appeared so desolate. It had been chaotic and soaked in blood, certainly, but this—this was a different beast entirely.

The reason was clear: the Blood Moon Spell was currently active.

I shifted my gaze toward the heavens. The moon hung low and bloated, a deep crimson orb bleeding its radiance over the rooftops. It throbbed with a faint rhythm, as if it were a living heart breathing in sync with the city.

Although it seemed weaker—unstable, like a flawed imitation—it was unquestionably that same forbidden blood art.

The Blood Moon Spell.

It was the ultimate masterwork of Elizabeth... or her greatest curse, depending on one's perspective.

The version she cast during the onset of the Blood Moon War hadn't been flawless either. By then, she was aged, her mana was fading, and her sanity had crumbled. To achieve perfection—to gain absolute dominion over Sancta Vedelia—she required a fresh vessel. That was the reason she hunted Amaya.

Fortunately, I had intervened before she could realize the spell's full potential in that timeline.

But today... today felt every bit as catastrophic, perhaps even worse.

Piercing shrieks echoed through the atmosphere. In the streets below, people were clawing at one another, their gazes vacant and their minds dissolving as the spell warped their very souls. Friends, partners, and kin were turning on each other for no reason at all.

Cyril.

That scoundrel actually went through with it.

Yet, deep down, I sensed... the true nightmare had not yet begun.

I looked up once more. A dome of scarlet energy spanned the sky above the city, shimmering like liquid flame. Inside it, a colossal crimson magic circle rotated slowly, drinking in power and gradually tightening its grip on everything underneath.

If I failed to halt this soon, Central Vedelia would collapse into utter annihilation.

I turned my attention toward the horizon—the Holy Tree of Eden was visible there, glowing softly through the murky air.

That is where he would be hiding.

That is where I had to go.

"Cyril..." I growled under my breath. "You aren't walking away from this alive."

Igniting my mana, I propelled myself off the pavement and broke into a sprint. The wind howled past as my boots crunched over debris and shattered glass. However, I hadn't been running for even a minute when my survival instincts flared with a warning of extreme danger.

Something erupted from the earth—jagged, twisted, and incredibly swift.

I dove backward just as a mass of roots shattered the cobblestones, lashing out at the spot where I had been standing.

Squinting, I scanned the swirling dust and murky shadows.

Then, I went still.

"...What?" I exhaled, my eyes stretching wide.

Standing in my path was Sephira.

But she was horribly transformed.

Her skin had turned a ghostly, bloodless pale, and her eyes shone with an unsettling, crimson light. Her face was a mask of emptiness, her lips quivering as if she were trapped between a state of fury and profound sorrow.

"The Blood Moon Spell...?" I whispered to myself. "That shouldn't be possible."

She wasn't that fragile. While Sephira had always been emotionally sensitive, her mental fortitude was high. She ought to have been capable of resisting this. Furthermore, this wasn't even the perfected iteration of the spell.

"Sephira!" I shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

For a fleeting moment, a spark appeared in her eyes—was it recognition?

But then she lifted her hand, and the earth around me exploded.

Scores—no, hundreds—of roots surged upward, snapping and twisting toward me like a nest of vipers.

Gritting my teeth, I raised my palm. "Anathemas Fire."

With a flash of violet light, a sword of purple flames manifested in my hand. The intense heat distorted the air, rippling through the red fog.

I swung the blade in broad strokes, hacking through the roots as purple fire incinerated everything I touched. Yet they persisted—more and more of them—crawling out of the dirt and thrashing through the air, desperate to trap me.

"To hell with this!" I barked, evading another onslaught. "I don't have time for games!"

"Sephira!" I yelled once more.

Something felt wrong. The way she moved didn't suggest she was a mindless puppet. It felt... hesitant. As if she were at war with her own soul.

"Where is Sirius?!" I demanded. "He's supposed to be with you!"

The mention of his name struck a chord. For the first time, her movements faltered.

Her eyes widened—and a solitary tear traced a path down her pale face.

"Si... Sirius..." she breathed.

"What did he do to him?"

She offered no reply. Instead, more tears gathered, and her features contorted in misery as she lifted her hands again.

The surrounding roots surged with increased speed and lethality—fueled by her heartache.

Don't tell me... did Cyril do something to both of them?

***

On the eastern flank of the Holy Tree of Eden, the landscape had transformed into a different variety of hell.

A traveler might have assumed they had entered a city claimed by a Great Flood. Violent torrents of water raced through the streets, slamming into stone structures and sweeping away anything not anchored down.

The roar of the rushing tide drowned out the cries for help.

Those unfortunate enough to be swept away disappeared beneath the waves—broken, pulled down, and consumed by the raw power of the deluge. The few survivors clung desperately to roof peaks, streetlamps, or any solid object, muttering broken prayers for the nightmare to cease.

Dominating the scene from a partially submerged roof was the man responsible—Adrian Dolphis.

He appeared like a phantom amidst the tempest—drenched to the bone, his reddish-brown hair matted against his face. Water swirled around his feet, surging and receding like a predatory beast. Behind him towered the nebulous form of a demonic woman composed entirely of dark green water; she was translucent yet projected pure spite. Her presence warped the flood around Adrian, creating a throne of liquid ruin.

The only reason the torrent had subsided even slightly was that someone had finally arrived to challenge him.

Across the way, perched on another decaying roof, John glared at Adrian through the downpour. His look was freezing.

He gripped the sword of his House—a relic bestowed upon him by his father, Jarett Tarmias, before his departure for Sancta Vedelia. Flames danced along the blade, shining a vibrant crimson even beneath the blood-hued sky. The burning steel hissed and let off steam as the rain pelted it.

John’s concentration was fixed entirely on Adrian... or so it should have been.

But occasionally, his eyes wandered downward—to the drowned streets below. The prospect of falling into that abyss, of being pulled under, caused his chest to constrict. He had never mastered swimming. The mere thought of being underwater made his body flinch instinctively.

That split second of doubt was all the opening Adrian required.

Water erupted around John, coiling into rotating whips that struck out with deadly accuracy.

"Shit—!"

John lashed out with his flaming blade, each strike severing the watery appendages. Clouds of steam erupted as fire clashed with water, but the attacks were relentless—growing faster and more numerous. He incinerated a dozen before a stray tendril snared his leg.

"Damn it!"

Before he could cut himself free, the whip snapped taut and launched him backward like a discarded toy.

-BOOM!

He crashed through a crumbling house, sending wood and masonry flying. The force of the impact jarred his skeleton, and he tumbled across the soaked floor, spitting out water that had forced its way into his mouth. The interior was flooding—rapidly.

John set his jaw, gripped his weapon, and slashed toward the sky.

-BOOOM!

The roof shattered, and he leaped through the gap, sticking a landing on a rooftop just as a massive wave broke below. His wet, whitish-red hair was plastered to his brow, but his eyes burned with a red intensity.

"I've had enough of this," he spat, leveling his sword at Adrian.

A massive, dark red circle flared to life above Adrian, vibrating with cursed energy. From its center, grotesque crimson hands reached out, clawing the air before diving down. They struck the demonic water woman guarding Adrian, their very touch tainting her essence.

Wherever those hands landed, the green water turned murky, taking on the shade of dried gore.

Adrian jumped clear, barely dodging the grasping curse—but John was already closing the distance.

He lunged forward like a streak of fire, his fist saturated with Ruah.

"Wake the fuck up!!"

-BAM!

His fist connected squarely with Adrian’s jaw. The force of the blow sent vibrations through the rooftop. Adrian’s head snapped back, blood and water spraying as he was thrown through the air, crashing through a distant wall before vanishing into the flooded street with a massive splash.

John exhaled sharply, finding his footing on a more stable piece of the roof.

"Finally," he whispered. "Dry ground."

His comfort was short-lived.

The water beneath him began to churn and boil.

"What the—?"

Violent bubbles broke the surface, and the faint glimmer of a new magic circle expanded across the drowned streets—larger, more sinister, and more complex than the last. Veins of mana glowed under the waves, reaching out until they encircled the building John occupied.

His eyes went wide.

"Wait—no—!"

The structure quaked.

Then, with a thunderous roar, gigantic columns of water erupted from all sides, trapping the entire building like a cage. They spiraled upward into the blood-stained heavens, merging into a massive vortex. The air turned into a thick mist of rain that shimmered in the red light.

(Don’t you find it funny that you got yourself a girlfriend using water, when you’re so terrified of drowning, Jonathan?)

John’s eye pulsed with irritation. "Shut up, Hecate," he snapped, clearly frustrated.

(Oh, come on, don’t be so touchy.)

"It’s not like Amelia’s going to drown me or anything!" he retorted.

Hecate gave a soft laugh, her voice dripping with mockery.

The reality was—John’s fear of water wasn't based on some silly whim. His loathing for it was deep-seated, carved into his psyche from a past he wished to bury. Back on Earth, his parents found it amusing—even 'refreshing'—to shove his head into a basin of water whenever he 'required discipline'. They called it a cleansing. He called it torture.

Every time water filled his nose, his mouth, and his lungs—he learned a new definition of powerlessness.

Even now, years later, that sensation haunted the corners of his mind whenever he stood near the depths.

He tried to convince himself he was over it. That he was fine.

But the shaking of his hands told a different story.

(You better not take that next attack, John. It’s almost touching, seeing you fight this hard for your brother-in-law—but don’t throw your life away for it.)

"I know what I’m doing," John whispered, forcing his attention back to the fight.

He tightened his hold on his sword. Dark red veins began to spread across his skin, throbbing with cursed light as a deep crimson aura erupted from his frame.

However, the ground beneath him shook in response. Fissures opened across the roof under his feet. "Oh, hell..."

The building began to fail, disintegrating as the water pressure mounted from below. All around him, roofs buckled and snapped like thin glass. There was no time for deliberation.

Without a second thought, John bent his knees and propelled himself forward—aiming straight for Adrian.

Streams of water burst from every angle, coiling around him like snakes. He swung his blade in wide sweeps, cleaving through them one by one, with steam exploding into the air at every contact.

"Out of my way!" he bellowed.

But Adrian was ready. The flooded street below surged—and a massive, gaping maw of water materialized in front of John, large enough to gulp him down whole.

John clenched his teeth, pouring his mana into his sword until it glowed like liquid steel, and swung with all his might.

-BOOOOOOM!

A gargantuan blast of steam and force rocked the entire block. The explosion blinded him momentarily, the air thick with white vapor. But he didn't need his eyes to feel the wave of murderous intent closing in.

Adrian was right there.

John barely managed to block before—

-CRACK!

A heavy punch slammed into his forearm, sending a jolt of pain to his shoulder. "Ugh—!" he groaned, his balance shattered. In the next instant, the roof beneath him disappeared.

He was falling—straight toward the flood.

"Fuck—!"

Before he could hit the water, something gripped his ankle tightly. Instead of falling in, he was jerked sideways—brutally—his body whipped through the air and tossed onto another roof that was still standing.

He hit the tiles and rolled, coughing. His sword landed with a clang nearby.

"What the hell—?" He blinked, gasping for air.

Then his eyes went wide.

"A–Amelia?"

Standing before him was Amelia, her expression stern.

"Don’t you have something to tell me?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

John blinked, baffled. "What are you even doing here?" He scrambled to his feet.

She let out a sigh, looking toward the horizon. "I'm not a fool, John. I knew you planned to slip away yesterday—but..." Her gaze shifted to Adrian, who stood at a distance with water circling him like a shield. Her voice softened and trembled. "I didn't expect to find my brother here. Or... maybe I should have. My parents said he’d vanished from his room. But what happened to him?"

John’s face darkened. "I don't know. Someone or something is controlling him."

Amelia was quiet for a moment before she spoke.

"I'll handle him."

John frowned. "What? No way—"

She turned to face him, locking eyes. "He is my brother, John. I know how to manage him—and I also know you are useless around water."

"W–What?! Who told you that?!"

Amelia’s lips pulled into a playful smirk. "You're my boyfriend, remember? I'd have to be blind not to notice."

John let out a groan in response.

"Relax," she said, giving his shoulder a light shove. "Trust me. You have more important things to deal with right now, don't you?"

He paused, his eyes darting toward the distant Holy Tree of Eden. She was right. There was no time for an argument.

"...Fine," he finally relented, his voice softening. "Just be careful."

She gave a faint smile. "Always."

As John sprinted away into the distance, Amelia turned her attention back to her brother. Her soft expression vanished, replaced by a cold resolve, as mana began to swirl around her palms.

"Now then, brother..." she whispered. "Let's find out how much of you is left."

***

Vital minutes were ticking away as I struggled against Sephira.

To be honest... I was starting to wonder if she had always possessed this much power.

I had seldom seen her fight with real intent, but witnessing her now—seeing how her mana flowed through the roots and how effortlessly she commanded them—I couldn't help but feel impressed.

If she didn't have that sense of inferiority toward Alvara, she might have reached her full potential long ago. She could have been among the elite of the Teraquin.

Then again, she wasn't a Heroine of the Second Game for nothing.

But that wasn't the point right now.

I had no desire to harm her—she was a decent person and a Teraquin like Alvara—but I was being left with no choice.

At the very least, she wasn't being puppeteered by the Blood Moon Spell. I could tell that much. It meant there was still a chance to save her.

A bundle of thick vines whipped toward me, cutting the air. I swung my blade of purple fire, the flames roaring as I turned them to cinders.

The smell of burnt wood filled the air as I lunged forward, closing the distance between us.

Sephira slammed her foot down, and a massive wall of interlocking roots surged up, blocking my path.

"Persistent," I grunted. My sword vibrated in my hand as I swung—one sharp, flaming arc—and the barrier shattered into burnt pieces.

I barely caught the movement behind me.

I tilted my head just in time—a vine scraped my cheek, leaving a stinging line and a trickle of blood.

"Not bad," I noted, wiping the blood away.

I stamped down hard and launched myself like a projectile. Sephira swung her blade again, calling forth another wave of vines, but I had already surpassed her speed.

My left hand erupted in purple fire as I punched through her wooden shield, the heat consuming the roots instantly.

Her eyes went wide when I broke through the smoke, seizing her wrist mid-swing. In one fluid motion, I twisted, pulled her down, and pinned her to the earth, my knees securing her waist as I locked both her wrists above her head.

"That’s enough," I said, looking down at her.

Her eyes were wide and shaking—not with anger, but with bewilderment and agony.

If only Alicia were here—she could have likely cleansed whatever Blood Art was fogginess Sephira’s mind. Elizabeth could have done it even faster... but waking her now would be a catastrophe for many reasons.

I was still weighing my options when I felt something sliding against my wrists.

"What—?" I looked down. Vines. Two of them, tightening their grip.

"When did she—?"

Before I could finish the thought, the ground beneath me erupted. The vines pulled me backward with savage strength, dragging me across the soil. I skidded for several meters before hitting something unyielding.

I blinked, feeling dazed, and looked up—straight into a pair of cold, golden eyes.

"Alvara...?"

She stared down at me, looking quite annoyed.

"What exactly were you doing, my love?" she asked, her voice calm—but dangerously sharp.