I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 755: [Final Event] [Blood Moon Festival] [37] Sirius

Like a shadowy comet streaking beneath the crimson barrier, Leon plummeted downward, winds screaming past him as he hurtled directly toward the spot where Amael battled Sirius.

His pulse evened out. His mind grew razor-sharp.

This was the crucial instant.

The one he'd anticipated for so long.

All elements converged flawlessly—the precise moment, the turmoil, the diversions. An opportunity so slim that not even Nemesis could squeeze through it. With swift action and a bold strike, he could claim both Sins before she made any move.

Jayden's arrival had proven... troublesome. Yet it amounted to little else.

A mere disturbance in a scheme already underway.

With Wrath and Sloth reclaimed, order would restore itself. His route ahead would at last—

"...!"

A wave of murderous aura crashed over him abruptly.

Leon halted in mid-flight, his reflexes blaring warnings, and leaped away. Mere instants afterward, a gigantic lightning strike hammered the position he'd vacated. The blast rattled the earth below, the resulting blast wave ripping a deep pit and hurling rocks and debris skyward.

Flashes of electricity danced in Leon's vision.

He recognized that energy signature.

"What are you doing..." he muttered, his gaze piercing the churning clouds of dust.

From the haze emerged a figure, encircled by snapping bolts of power. Her energy thundered like a storm embodied in flesh.

"Alphonse," Leon hissed, his eyes slitting.

Sylvia faced him, her blade appearing in her grasp, encased in a furious layer of electricity.

"You won’t take those two Sins, Leon Grimlock," she declared.

Leon’s face hardened instantly, chilling further.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me," Sylvia shot back.

A faint, mirthless grin pulled at Leon’s mouth. It never touched his icy stare.

"I see... so you’ve chosen to turn against me at last." His look intensified. "I suspected as much, but answer this—do you truly believe halting me now will rescue that cherished one of yours?"

Sylvia remained wordless.

Leon let out a low laugh.

"The Iris Project is already slinking through this zone. They’ll snatch the Sins at the first chance. Lisandra’s vanished, you stand isolated, and honestly—" He sneered, "what do you imagine you can achieve? Even worse, what chance do you have against me?"

"You’re getting it wrong," Sylvia stated, lifting her sword. Bolts coiled along her limb and leaped onto the edge. "You hold an advantage, sure, but I’m certain I can deal with you. I’ve endured far longer than you realize. I’ve outlasted horrors beyond your wildest thoughts."

Leon’s gaze flashed with peril.

"That was your final caution. Keep yapping, and I won’t hesitate—I’ll end you."

His own weapon gleamed into being, the atmosphere twisting near the shadowy steel.

For an instant, everything paused in suspense.

Then the pair blurred out of sight.

-BOOOOOOM!!!

***

Milleia froze in place for a moment, anxiety flashing vividly over her features as she gazed forward.

Amael and Sirius ravaged the field like twin tempests smashing together.

Blades rang out, embers scattered, and their forms streaked too fast for her to track. The very atmosphere quaked with each collision of steel.

Her attention fixed on Amael—his face stern—but she saw beyond the facade.

His condition troubled her deeply.

Sanctum Renova...

Employing it on someone fit was hazardous enough. Yet she’d imposed it on a worn-out, drained Amael whose frame had already exceeded its bounds. The fallout couldn’t be dismissed—agonizing, perilous, potentially fatal.

She’d only reunited with him after such a long absence...

And there he was, battling as if his existence held no value.

Her fingers balled into rigid knots.

"Milleia."

The gentle tone yanked her from her reverie. She whirled to find a pale steed cantering amid the settling haze before halting near her.

"Ceatha," she exhaled.

The beast glowed and shifted—rays warping until a petite child took its form. No older than ten, with locks of pure white and vivid azure eyes that carried an oddly timeless depth.

"What’s happening...?" Ceatha inquired, her sight shifting to Amael. Despite the years, she scarcely knew him anymore. But she knew the emotions in Milleia’s stare—the concern, the dread, the warmth.

"It’s too risky lingering here," Ceatha warned, surveying the area. "We need to go."

She spoke true.

Far off, those twisted by the Blood Moon Spell clustered, lurching closer like a brewing gale. Several had already noticed them. Remaining invited a crushing onslaught.

Yet Milleia refused with a shake of her head.

"No. I won’t abandon Edward here," she insisted. "And... he told me to guard her."

Her view slid to Celeste, sprawled insensate on the dirt.

The instant she recalled Amael’s gaze upon Celeste, the way he cradled her—with such care, such softness, so foreign to what he’d offered Milleia—her heart clenched in torment.

Why... why did it hurt like this?

"What’s happening here...?"

Milleia whipped about.

A female figure had materialized at the clearing’s brink—ebony tresses laced with silver, commanding aura, and an expression of utter confusion.

It was Claudia, unknown to Milleia until now.

Claudia’s focus whipped to the furious barrage of sounds and power—the duel between Amael and Sirius. Bewilderment flooded her traits. This clash defied her expectations entirely.

Her eyes flicked to Milleia—then fixed on Celeste, her poise crumbling.

"What happened to her?!" Claudia dashed ahead, her stare bulging.

"She’s out cold. Who are you?" Milleia questioned, caution edging her voice.

"Claudia Tepes," came the sharp response, as she probed Celeste’s vital signs and exhaled in relief upon sensing life. Should the fresh Prophetess perish here, Sancta Vedelia’s turmoil would deepen catastrophically.

"You’re Claudia Tepes? The one who summoned us?" Milleia queried, astonishment tinting her words.

Claudia raised her head at last, scrutinizing Milleia with narrowed eyes. Realization struck swiftly.

"You’re Raphiel’s Daughter," Claudia noted. "You arrived at the most disastrous time—and delayed. When did you get here? Where’s Cyril?"

She swept the surroundings, her sight settling on the scarlet-tressed body slumped nearby.

Milleia traced her glance and inclined her head gradually.

"If that’s the fellow you mean... I believe he was lifeless upon my arrival. Perhaps Sirius slew him?" She paused, her forehead creasing. "But then the pair began battling, and... I’m not entirely sure of the events that followed."

Claudia tuned out the rest.

Her stare riveted to Amael.

He matched the vision from her prophecy precisely. His injured form, the warped energy, the perilous glint in his eyes. Her pulse hammered wildly.

A chilling notion slithered up her back.

"Has he revealed his real nature at last...?" She breathed through clenched jaws.

"W–What? No, Edward was trying to protect—"

"You don’t understand." Claudia’s tone cut off Milleia’s protest. "I witnessed it in my Prophecy. His mere being has already ravaged Central Vedelia—you behold the proof yourself. And it’s bound to worsen from here."

She advanced a pace, but a frigid shiver gripped her, halting her in place.

"It would be foolish to disrupt such a captivating display."

Claudia’s head jerked around.

A male lounged atop a lengthy white crate, as though he’d spectated the mayhem for ages. Jack Renge. An aura of shadow and pure malice emanated from him unlike any Claudia had encountered.

"Who are you?" She demanded right away, her frame rigid as she fixed him with a glare.

Jack ignored the query entirely. He didn’t even register it.

"You’ve got more pressing concerns."

His voice stayed even, nearly indifferent.

Claudia grasped his implication moments later—the earth quivered.

She spun and spotted them. Throngs of individuals, endless shapes shambling nearer, their gazes vacant and faintly crimson. Every one ensnared by the Blood Moon Spell. They advanced in vast multitudes, drawn as if by an unseen summons.

"What’s wrong with them?" Milleia murmured, her arm lifting on reflex.

"They’re enchanted. Halt them!" Claudia barked, dread swelling within her.

Cyril lay dead. She’d viewed his remains. Still, the scarlet barrier loomed over Central Vedelia, throbbing threateningly. The Blood Moon Spell refused to fade—it intensified.

Why?

Why did chaos persist like this?

Despite her every effort... every desperate measure... to evade the Prophecy, events conspired toward its direst conclusion.

"Where is the Apostle of Lumen?" Claudia questioned abruptly.

"Jayden? We got split up," Milleia replied, her attention glued to the approaching masses as she summoned gleaming azure edges. They streaked forth like bolts of brilliance, impaling the afflicted folk—but rather than wounding, the strikes immobilized them, encasing their forms like frozen effigies.

Claudia’s hands squeezed until her nails bit into her skin.

This defied every intended path.

She’d called upon Jayden and his allies precisely because she trusted they could alter the Prophecy—potent beings like the Apostle of Lumen and Raphiel’s Daughter ought to have nudged destiny, however faintly.

And deep down, she’d harbored a silent wish... merely hoped... that they’d handle Amael. Dispatch him under the guise of ’divine authority’ so Sancta Vedelia avoided tainting itself.

After all, Amael remained an Olphean royal.

But now?

All that remained was observation... and endurance... as the Prophecy hurtled to its bleakest phase.

***

-BOOOOOM!!!

Mana blasts ripped across the field as Sirius and I collided anew, our weapons slamming together with power that fractured the surrounding atmosphere.

"Ninth Ascension," Sirius stated evenly. "I never got to offer my congratulations."

I ignored the remark.

Trinity Nihil ignited in my hold, its edge flaring with Anathema Fire. I slashed, inferno snarling fiercely through the breeze.

Sirius blocked, embers bursting, and with his spare hand conjured a golden edge from nowhere to slice at my visage.

I dodged by angling my head—the cut skimmed my jaw, hot blood streaming down—then seized his arm before he withdrew. Harnessing the force, I pivoted, yanked him low, and rammed my knuckles—sheathed in Wrath—toward him.

Yet Sirius countered without delay.

His golden weapon melted away, reshaping into a circular guard that absorbed my blow.

The barrier fractured with a sharp report under Wrath’s assault, cracks webbing outward—but it endured somehow.

I squinted, pressed forward, and smashed my forehead into his.

-BAM!!

Sirius reeled with a groan, crimson splitting his brow.

"Burning Ring of Vysindra," I uttered, and plunged my fist into his midsection.

-BOOOOOOM!!!

The collision burst wide, a circular surge of violet blaze exploding from my strike. Sirius hurtled skyward like a launched stone, slamming into the soil with impact that gouged a depression.

I touched down and sprang after him at once, but his edge met mine once more, steel wailing as our blades interlocked.

"Where did you obtain the Olphean Emblem?" I demanded icily.

"From Connor Olphean," Sirius responded promptly.

My hold clenched.

Pale grains burst around me, whirling before hurtling at him like a tempest.

But crimson pooled near him—crafting the barrier Cyril had wielded.

A scarlet shield enveloped Sirius, throbbing fiercely.

"You really expect me to swallow that nonsense?" I growled, brandishing Trinity Nihil.

-BOOOOM!!!

The shield fractured—by a sliver—but I pressed on. I hammered once more. And repeated. And struck relentlessly.

-BOOOM! BOOOM!! BOOOOM!!!

Every hit erupted like a blast, ripples shredding the terrain underfoot, gashes yawning as if the ground recoiled in terror.

I snarled and encased Wrath along my edge, stabbing with ruinous might.

-CRACK!!

The shield broke apart.

Yet simultaneously, a golden edge thrust at my skull. I intercepted it barehanded, halting it inches from my sight. The metal carved into my flesh, blood trickling along the blade, but I gripped firm.

Sirius’s blood-red eyes bored into mine, unwavering.

"The Olphean Bloodline can be passed down. Bestowed. Rebuilt via Royal Blood," he intoned softly.

"So you claim Olphean royal status?" I mocked.

"You grasp nothing," Sirius replied. "Lazarus Raven tested my mother with Thelma Olphean’s genetic material. Ymir’s genes are supreme. Indestructible after integration."

Before I could retort, golden spears poured from above. I vaulted away, evading the barrage while deflecting those that neared.

"Who the hell are you?" I pressed.

Sirius raised a hand to his locks, sweeping them aside leisurely—

And the golden hue dissolved into ebony.

Shadowy markings snaked over his face, limbs, beneath his eyes, like taint erupting outward.

-BOOOOOOM!!!!

His power detonated wide, savage and choking, surging to the peak Cyril had touched earlier.

The blood encircling us darkened to near-black and twisted toward him.

Cyril’s weapon disintegrated to powder in his grasp, supplanted by a serrated golden edge inscribed with coiling dark icons.

"I’ve worn countless titles," he declared. "None truly matter... save perhaps Ernest, to you."

"Ernest Olphean..."

"One among many aliases and commandeered forms," Sirius continued. His tone chilled further, echoing empty. "I applaud your slaying of Rucain. He and Cain proved useful. Merithra’s lineage lost is a hassle, but irrelevant now. I’ll reclaim her soon enough."

The soil shuddered fiercely.

Sirius elevated both arms.

-BOOOOM!!!

Crimson spires surged upward sequentially around us, staining the heavens scarlet. Over them, a gigantic energy ring materialized—radiant, throbbing—before a titanic red ray lanced skyward, battering the barrier above.

"This marks your demise, Vessel of Samael Eveningstar," Sirius proclaimed.

His pale irises blackened utterly, leaving only scarlet gashes blazing in void.

"And as..."

He hoisted his weapon.

"Lord Lucifer’s General—"

His words boomed profoundly.

"I, Sirius Anox... will finish you."