I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 742: [Final Event] [Blood Moon Festival] [24] Cyril VS James And Melfina

"G–Grandma..." Celeste’s voice was a fragile tremor, her eyes brimming with tears the instant she spotted Melfina standing before them.

Much like James, the elderly woman wore an expression that was both grave and frigid.

For several seconds, James remained motionless, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at the figure in front of him.

Denial fought with reality.

He refused to accept it.

That his own flesh and blood had crossed such a line... launching an assault on the heart of Central Vedelia itself.

"What have you done, Cyril..." James whispered, his voice thick with shock.

"Father, you possess an impeccable talent for being late," Cyril retorted with a disdainful laugh, faint traces of crimson mana dancing around his frame.

Attempting to grasp the situation, James took a cautious step forward. "Why would you do this? My father—your own grandfather—he must have provoked this, right? Lazarus must have poisoned your mind with falsehoods." His voice wavered, desperate to find any justification that could explain this madness.

Cyril merely sneered, his features contorted in a mask of contempt.

"Grandfather is irrelevant. This is on you, Father—always making the wrong choices, always falling short. What else should I expect from a man so utterly useless?"

The insult struck like a physical blow.

James squeezed his fists tight.

"That is enough, Cyril," Melfina interjected at last. "End this insanity. You will be encircled shortly, and you are well aware of how this concludes. Victory is impossible for you here. Give up before you forfeit everything."

Her assessment was accurate.

Regardless of whatever unnatural power surge Cyril had obtained, it was temporary. Once the other Heads of Vedelia arrived, he would be obliterated by their collective strength.

However, Cyril appeared entirely unconcerned.

He simply wore a grin brimming with arrogance.

He was no fool; he wouldn't engage in a fight he couldn't win.

Above them, the gargantuan crimson Blood Moon Circle continued its rhythmic pulsing in the firmament. It saturated the world in a morbid red radiance. The ritual was incomplete; it was still consuming, still hungering for more blood to fuel its power. Once finished, all of Central Vedelia would fall under his absolute dominion.

A sharp spear of ice hissed through the air toward him.

With a slight tilt of his head and a smirk, Cyril evaded the projectile.

Melfina’s form began to glow with a frosty, azure mana.

A freezing gale whipped around her, howling as a multitude of ice blades materialized at her flanks before she unleashed them in a frozen deluge.

-BOOOOM!

Laughing, Cyril spun through the air as the ice shattered violently around him. His mirth vanished, however, when a red flash ignited from his left—James Raven, his blade wreathed in a scorching crimson aura, struck like a falling star.

Cyril barely had time to lift his hand before—

-BOOOOOM!!

The collision of two massive forces generated a powerful shockwave. The impact pulverized nearby structures and sent ripples through the atmosphere. For a fleeting moment, Cyril smiled, believing he had parried the strike—until he saw the light intensifying beneath his feet.

He was too slow.

The concentrated mana erupted like a detonating bomb, swallowing him whole. His eyes narrowed an instant before the blast propelled him across the horizon, sending him crashing through buildings as he tumbled toward the inner district of Sancta Vedelia.

James let out a heavy sigh.

He was aware of the danger—evacuating civilians and soldiers were still in that area—but engaging in combat near the Holy Tree was far more perilous. A single error could lead to catastrophe.

Melfina made to pursue him, but paused to look at her granddaughter.

"Take Harvey inside the Holy Tree, Celes," she commanded.

"Grandmother... Father, he’s—" Celeste’s voice crumbled as she stared at Harvey’s limp, silent form.

"You are the Prophetess, Celeste," Melfina said, her voice turning slightly more gentle. "And Harvey carries the Tree’s blessing. Move him inside—its radiance will sustain him. It will buy him time, perhaps even accelerate his recovery."

Wiping her eyes, Celeste gave a frantic nod. "Y–Yes, Grandmother."

Melfina then looked toward her grandson, who was fighting to stay standing, clutching his injured ribs. "You as well, Evan. Accompany your sister. Keep her safe."

"Y–Yeah..." He grunted, managing a pained smile. Every breath was agony, and he was certain something had snapped inside, but he pushed the thought away. He yearned to return to the fray and strike Cyril himself, but he knew he would only be a liability now.

He nodded and joined Celeste, helping her shoulder Harvey’s weight. Together, they began the careful trek toward the Holy Tree.

Melfina’s gaze shifted between her broken son and her grandchildren, her heart heavy with sorrow.

'How... how did we come to this?'

The thought was a bitter, unavoidable weight in her mind.

Everything had spiraled into chaos with terrifying speed.

This past year had been a relentless deluge of mourning, disorder, and senseless loss.

The suffering hadn't started recently, of course. Long before this, there was the loss of Connor... her husband’s death... Thelma’s vanishing... and the reported passing of Kleines. These were scars that had never truly closed. But this last year—this cursed stretch of time—had been nearly too much to bear.

It all seemed to trace back to the arrival of Amael and John in Sancta Vedelia.

Rumors suggested it wasn't a coincidence. People whispered that their very presence acted as a beacon for the disasters striking the Holy island.

Yet, like Claudia, Melfina harbored no resentment toward them.

No—she had observed far too closely.

In every catastrophe—the siege of Zestel, the collapse of the Dolphian Capital, the ruin at Vanadias, the Utopian War, and even the Behemoth's raid on Moonfang—Amael had never been the source of the evil.

He was a soul caught in the tide of destiny, pulled into one calamity after another like a moth to a flame.

Even so... Melfina couldn't ignore the strange shroud of ill-fortune that followed him.

Wherever he walked, ruin trailed behind—as if he were a lightning rod for disaster.

But was it right to blame him?

Especially when she was the one who had insisted Celeste bring him to Sancta Vedelia after his imprisonment?

No.

She could not bring herself to point the finger at him.

Melfina exhaled softly, shaking her head to clear her mind.

She looked to the side, where the struggle between Alector and the creature that used to be Elizabeth continued.

"Lord Guardian, do not squander your efforts here," Melfina shouted.

"I am well aware," Alector snapped, ducking a vicious swing from Elizabeth’s sword. Frustration colored his voice. "But this thing refuses to stay down. I have pierced her heart thrice, yet she continues to move. She feels no pain."

Elizabeth’s pallid face was now a grotesque mask, her eyes hollow, her movements erratic and jarring.

The Blood Art fueling her corpse kept her in the fight long after her life had ended, and Alector’s face betrayed his disgust.

"A vampire would be better suited to deal with her," he grumbled, his staff glowing once more.

To him, battling a puppet animated by dark blood art was a meaningless chore—an insult to a high elf of his lineage. Every killing blow he landed only served to drain his own mana.

"Where is Claudia?!" Alector yelled, blocking a strike that cracked the pavement. "I can neutralize this foul enchantment—but I have to get to the Tree!"

Melfina looked toward the massive Holy Tree looming in the distance.

"She is within, standing guard over it," Melfina replied.

Alector cursed under his breath. "Then you must take my place, Melfina. I cannot leave this thing unchecked—"

"I am afraid I cannot," Melfina interrupted firmly.

She turned her attention back to the primary battlefield.

There, amidst the clashing of mana and blood, two figures were locked in combat.

James and Cyril.

Father and son.

Their blades struck repeatedly, each impact booming like thunder through the devastated streets of Ravenia.

It was a vampire’s duel—swift, savage, and devoid of pity.

Crimson mana swirled around them like a tempest, each blow leaving arcs of blood suspended in the air.

Cyril was undeniably more powerful now—but James possessed the advantage of experience and iron discipline. He parried every strike and countered every wild lunge, yet it was obvious he was approaching his breaking point.

Melfina noticed the signs—the slight hesitation, the labored breath behind every move.

James Raven was formidable, but he had limits. Furthermore, she saw the agony and reluctance in his eyes as he fought his only son.

Melfina acted before anyone could intervene. With a sharp wave of her hand, a frigid blast of wind swept across the field, and a blade of ice rushed toward Cyril like a tidal wave.

Cyril sidestepped the attack with ease, the ice freezing the very air as it passed, but Melfina was just beginning.

Her eyes blazed as she raised her hand. Suddenly, the air shimmered with blue light. Twelve mana circles materialized around Cyril, trapping him in a perfect geometric cage.

Each circle vibrated with power, and before he could escape, coils of frozen mana surged inward—a blizzard trapped within a sphere.

-BOOOOM!

The icy explosion consumed everything inside the formation.

A brilliant flash of white light filled the sky as Cyril was entombed in a crystalline prison. The temperature plummeted so low that the earth cracked and turned white with frost.

Through the translucent walls of the prison, Cyril’s silhouette remained visible; he was smiling calmly. But then—

Crack!

Hairline fractures began to spiderweb across the ice.

A deep, blood-red glow pulsed from the center of the cage.

Then, with a thunderous roar, the prison disintegrated, shards of enchanted ice flying like shrapnel as a wave of crimson mana burst forth.

-BOOOOM!

James had anticipated this and was already charging. He plunged through the storm of ice, his sword held high, the red aura around him burning with renewed intensity.

"CYRIL!" he bellowed, bringing his blade down in a savage arc.

Their swords collided with a noise like a thunderclap, splitting the ground beneath their feet.

A massive shockwave rippled outward, leveling debris and tearing through Ravenia’s streets, tossing vehicles and structures aside like toys.

"Enough, Cyril!" James cried. "You have gone too far!"

"Precisely, Father," Cyril smirked. "I have gone too far, and that is exactly why there is no turning back!"

Before James could react, Cyril pivoted and delivered a devastating kick to his father’s ribs.

-BAM!

The sound of snapping bone was audible. James grunted, blood spraying from his mouth as he was sent skidding across the ground, crashing through a ruined wall.

Cyril took a slow breath, the crimson mist swirling around him like smoke. Then, he suddenly went rigid.

He looked up.

A sudden, biting chill touched his skin.

Above him, a massive, nine-layered mana circle had manifested, radiating a freezing blue light. The sheer pressure made the air feel heavy, each layer of the circle thrumming with immense power.

Countless ice spears, each as large as a tree, hovered in the sky, all aimed directly at him.

Melfina stood a short distance away, her face a mask of cold resolve. Frost settled on her white hair as she exhaled a mist of cold air.

"If you truly will not stop," she said, "then I have no choice but to end your life, Cyril."

Cyril gave a soft laugh, raising his weapon. "Headmistress... you can only make such a claim if you are actually capable of killing me!"

Melfina did not hesitate. Her mana surged, and the frozen storm descended.

Dozens of ice lances rained down in a blinding flurry. The first missed by a hair, grazing his skin. He parried the second with a sharp blow, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

But the moment his sword struck the ice, a wave of frost surged up his arm, numbing his muscles and slowing his reflexes.

"Tch..." Cyril hissed in annoyance.

A third spear arrived. He twisted and swung again, his movements visibly slower. He barely managed to block the fourth. By the fifth, he was forced to use his off-hand.

Blood sprayed from his palm, swirling around him before exploding into thousands of crimson needles that shot out in every direction.

-BOOOM!

They shredded the incoming ice spears and flew toward Melfina like a storm of red lightning.

Her reaction was instantaneous; she raised her arm, conjuring a thick wall of ice.

The blood needles pierced the barrier, shattering layer after layer. Several found their mark, striking her shoulder and side.

"Ughh!" she groaned, stumbling back. The pain was searing; blood arts were notorious for burning through both mana shields and flesh.

But she didn't falter. As more needles flew, she swung her sword, intercepting them in bursts of frost. Her focus remained locked on Cyril.

He was tearing through the final wave of spears, his body covered in blood as he laughed.

Melfina’s expression remained unchanged.

She raised her hand again, her eyes fixed on the massive blue mana circle still hovering over Cyril.

With a calm breath, she unleashed its final form.

"...!"

Cyril’s eyes widened as he looked up. From the glowing circle, massive chains made of ice plummeted like spears of divine judgment, shimmering with a deadly cold as they tore through the air.

Instinct took over. The first chain hit the ground with a deafening crash, but Cyril dodged just in time, the freezing wind biting his cheek. Before he could recover, another ice spear whistled toward him.

He shattered it with a flash of steel, but the impact sent a wave of frost across the ground, freezing his feet in place. The air itself felt like it was turning to lead.

Another chain slammed down. Cyril braced himself and met it head-on. The collision sent sparks and ice fragments flying. Blood ran down his arm, but he forced his blade through until—

-BOOM!

The chain shattered into icy dust.

He didn't have a moment to savor the success before another spear pierced his side, tearing through his flesh.

"Ugh..." Cyril stumbled, his breath visible in the freezing air.

When he looked up, his crimson eyes saw the end—dozens of chains, writhing like celestial serpents, descended upon him.

And then—

-BOOOOOOM!!!

The explosion consumed him. The world was lost in a white-out of frost.

In the distance, Melfina stood amidst the swirling shards, blood trickling from her mouth. Her body was shaking, her robes blood-soaked and torn, but her eyes were steady.

She breathed slowly, the frost in her breath vanishing into the gale.

As Headmistress... doing this to one of her own students was an unforgivable act.

But Cyril had crossed the point of no return. He was no longer someone she could save.

She looked toward the crimson dome in the distance, her heart heavy with guilt. She only hoped this would be the end.

Then—

-Spurt!

Her eyes flew open. A sudden, hot sensation bloomed in her chest.

Looking down, she saw a blood-slicked blade protruding from her sternum.

"...!"

Her lips parted in shock. Slowly, she turned her head.

Cyril stood behind her—covered in blood and battered, but alive. A cold, amused smile played on his lips.

"You almost had me, Headmistress. Truly remarkable," he whispered. "I shouldn't have underestimated you."

"H–How...?" Melfina wheezed, her face contorted in pain and bewilderment.

"You still don't understand?" Cyril tilted his head, his crimson eyes glowing as he tightened his grip on the sword.

Melfina watched in horror as her own blood flowed toward the blade—and was absorbed. It was being drawn directly into Cyril’s body.

His pale skin regained its hue. His wounds closed, his breathing steadied, and a look of dark satisfaction crossed his face.

"This spell," he said slowly, "is why the Vampire Witch was never defeated during the Blood Moon War."

Melfina coughed, blood staining her lips. "What... are you... saying...?"

"The Blood Moon Spell," Cyril explained, "bestows immortality through the medium of blood. The Vampire Witch was invincible under its light. She couldn't be slain by any conventional means. Only a miracle—or something beyond explanation—saved Sancta Vedelia five centuries ago. I will not repeat her errors."

He shoved the sword deeper, the sound of tearing flesh echoing between them.

"As long as blood exists," he declared, "I am eternal. I only need to consume."

He pulled the blade out. Melfina’s body collapsed, her face pale and drained. She fell to her knees as her strength ebbed away.

Her fading eyes turned toward the sky.

"I'm... sorry..." she whispered.

Her final thoughts weren't of her own agony, but of her family—her son, her grandson, and her granddaughter.

Perhaps this was the price for her husband’s sins and her own silence...

Cyril licked the blood from his lips, his body surging with new power. He turned and saw Celeste standing a few meters away, her entire frame shaking with terror.

"Grandma..."

"Oh? You're a little late to the party, Celes," Cyril chuckled.