I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 761: [Second Game] [Epilogue] [1]
Previously on I Am The Game's Villain...
Amael perished.
Or perhaps it was Edward Falkrona.
Pinpointing his true identity grew ever more difficult—particularly among those who'd crossed paths with him only briefly. Yet his passing, no matter his ultimate form, inflicted a deep wound.
Christina Olphean wept fiercely in Alea’s embrace.
At last, she had located her sibling Amael... only to forfeit something irreplaceable.
A figure who had carved a vital place in her life. It struck her fully as she beheld his fading, his shattering and vanishing right before her gaze, revealing the vast hold he’d claimed in her soul. Grasping this truth so late, in these final moments, broke her apart.
The sole other soul shedding tears was Milleia.
She knelt there, right on the ground where he had faded away, her fingers clawing into the shattered earth while quiet drops trailed down endlessly. Her lips quivered faintly, murmuring his name as though repetition could summon him anew. It failed. She fixed her stare on the void with a denial that wouldn't yield to reality.
Kenia and the rest of the girls could merely cluster near and steady her by the shoulders, offering hollow words of solace. They had no familiarity with Edward. The details of their shared history from a year prior escaped them. In their eyes, he remained the culprit behind the surrounding devastation. Truth be told, a few harbored a subtle, shameful ease at his absence.
Yet Milleia’s sorrow pierced even them.
They had never witnessed her in such tears.
Milleia had always shone as the vibrant soul.
A short distance away stood Jayden, his face a mask of ambiguity.
"Are you sad?" Arete murmured softly beside him.
"I don’t know... really," he replied.
His eyes drifted to Jennyfer, curled up in a shadowed nook, her frame quaking with muffled sobs. That grief tied to Joshua—he had shared the full tale with her. Yet another cut. Yet another void.
As Jayden shifted his focus back to the heart of the scene, emotions eluded him still.
Edward lay dead.
A knot formed in his core at the notion. Not pure sorrow, precisely. A muted throb. A faint strand of unnamed regret. Directed at Edward, perhaps. Or inward, at his own reflection.
His attention snagged on Cadmus.
Cadmus wore a subtle grin as he crouched to retrieve the Holy Sword, Trinity Nihil, from its dropped spot. The edge had reverted to its pure, sacred white hue once freed from Amael’s grasp.
"Cadmus, that sword..." Jayden uttered.
"Belongs to the Holy Church," Cadmus answered with a warm grin. "I shall bring it to His Holiness."
A flurry of protests surged to Jayden’s mouth, but ultimately, they faded unspoken.
He merely exhaled instead.
"We should head back to Celesta soon," he stated.
***
From a remote overlook, Leon remained rooted, his form etched against the shadowed skyline like a figure chiseled from frost. His features held an icier chill than before.
Sylvia.
Her name alone stirred a fury within him. She had squandered his hours, yanked him backward, blocked him at every turn. And now, thanks to her meddling, he arrived too delayed. Far too delayed to make a difference.
Before his view, the unthinkable had unfolded—a fresh Vessel of Samael Eveningstar emerged. One vastly more potent than foreseen, now burdened with Wrath, Sloth, and Nemesis combined. Undoubtedly a beast cloaked in celestial allure.
Any move now would spell pure recklessness.
Leon ground his teeth until his jaw ached with strain. He wheeled away abruptly, darkness engulfing him as he dissolved from the ledge.
He had never placed faith in Sylvia—not a single instant—but her escalation to this degree, her unyielding blockade, caught him off guard. She had braced for his arrival, irritatingly so. A far greater obstacle than he had anticipated.
With every stride amid the swirling gloom, Leon’s jaw locked firmer. Upon rematerializing at the base of the forsaken obsidian fortress he occupied with Kleah, his ire had cooled into a profound, brooding resentment.
If only...
If only his full power remained.
Since Nevia hurled him into this era, the might he wielded stood as a mere echo of his former glory. His Sin of Pride—the essence of his existence—rang empty in this realm. Hollow. A mere stand-in for an ill-fitting force.
And truthfully, it was.
He fit not in this era, this realm. Nor did the Pride he bore.
He had hunted relentlessly. The Sin of Pride native to this timeline ought to linger somewhere, the piece to mend his fractured self and restore completeness. But despite every search, no matter the depths or distances he delved, emptiness greeted him.
The sole true path—the only route to renewal—demanded shedding this alien shell altogether. Yet replicating even a fraction of the Iris Project’s feat with Amael... that lay beyond easy reach. Beyond casual trial.
No.
He mustn’t linger on such thoughts.
He would seize what he required straight from the Iris Project. His origins in Ante Eden held no weight—he had manipulated them since the outset regardless.
Leon descended soundlessly into the dim castle chamber.
He advanced a pace—and a sharp chill raced along his back.
Something felt amiss.
He surged forward without pause.
"Gladys!"
His call rang out harshly as he blurred away, resurfacing in their chambers—and dread seized his heart.
The space lay in ruins. Walls fissured. Furnishings shattered. The atmosphere heavy with echoes of brutal force.
"Once again late, Leon."
The words halted him in his tracks.
Gradually, he pivoted.
A figure loomed there, one hand effortlessly hoisting Kleah by the neck. Her limbs flailed feebly, nails scraping at the vise choking her breath.
Leon’s sight flushed crimson.
In a flash, he blinked out—and rematerialized directly before the intruder, arm cocked for a blow.
-BAM!!!
But the punch never connected.
A swift boot slammed into Leon’s gut, doubling him over before hurling him airborne like a shattered puppet. He slammed into a stone column—crumbling it—and rolled across the ground.
Agony surged through him, yet he dragged himself upright, incredulity warping his face.
He glanced up—and the man at last faced him squarely.
And upon spotting the dark patch over the man’s right eye, Leon’s form locked in place.
Stilled in utter astonishment.
The man’s mouth twisted gradually, forming a warped, taunting grin that churned Leon’s insides.
"You remember now, Leon?"
"...!"
Of course the memory flooded back. Forgetting that visage proved impossible. His frame quivered as recollections surged forth—ones he had strived to entomb so profoundly they ought never to rise.
Abraham Rickward let out a low chuckle, relishing the instant.
"How could you have forgotten?"
He drew Kleah nearer, his face grazing hers in a manner that hazed Leon’s vision with fury. Kleah winced, her form trembling, her gaze brimming with terror and hopelessness.
"That day," Rickward breathed, his tone laced with malice, "I made love to your woman... touched her in places you never had the courage to even imagine."
-BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
Leon’s mana erupted.
The Sin of Pride surged to life inside him, ignited by his wrath. The castle’s weakened barriers fractured further, fissures snaking over rock, debris cascading as tremors ripped through the space.
"L–Leon..." Kleah gasped, rivulets tracing her face. Her digits shook as they feebly gripped Rickward’s limb, struggling for air.
Rickward’s grin broadened.
Then, indifferently, he hurled Kleah toward the barrier.
She collided with a fractured wheeze.
"Do you want another session, Leon?" Rickward inquired. "She has a new body now... and I must say, she’s just as delightful in this one."
"RICKWARD!!!"
The murderous aura bursting from Leon set the chamber quaking. Any entity shy of Demigod rank would crumple beneath its weight.
Yet Rickward simply swept back his raven locks with an idle sneer, utterly unfazed.
Leon blinked away the next heartbeat, his ebony blade forming in his grasp as he materialized at Rickward’s rear. He slashed downward at blinding pace, the steel slicing the atmosphere with lethal aim.
Rickward made no effort to shift.
He merely raised a hand—and seized the edge in his naked grasp.
"...!"
His assault... halted.
No—nullified.
His Sin of Pride... dismissed like idle wind.
"W–What...?" Leon breathed, horror and denial contorting his visage.
Rickward’s sneer intensified.
"Sins don’t work on me, Leon."
His exposed eye sparkled with shadowed mirth before morphing into a warped glee, nearly rapturous.
"Nothing works against Lust."