I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 770: [The Rewritten Lost Past] [10]

It requiredAmael a full ten minutes to detail the entirety of the situation to Belle. He recounted how he'd crossed paths with Lisandra and Alphonse amidst their fierce battle against Metatron, the circumstances under which he'd intervened to rescue them, their subsequent visits to his encampment, his proposal for them to orchestrate their own demise to bring an end to the ongoing conflict, and their ultimate decision to reside together on Xenithia for the preceding three years.

Upon the conclusion of his narrative, Belle descended into a profound silence, lost in contemplation.

The stillness lingered for such an extended period that even Amael, accustomed to his mother's deeply thoughtful interludes, began to experience a subtle sense of unease. He could perceive her meticulously absorbing every fragment of information, meticulously turning it over, and scrutinizing it from various perspectives he might not have even considered.

At length, her gaze ascended once more, fixing upon the two women seated opposite them.

Under her piercing silver stare, both Lisandra and Alphonse visibly recoiled.

Over the years, they had heard numerous accounts and descriptions of Amael's mother, narratives that had collectively painted a portrait of an individual possessing both immense capability and profound lovingness. However, hearing tales about someone and actually finding oneself seated directly across from that very person were experiences of vastly different magnitudes. Belle possessed not merely the appearance of a goddess, but the very aura of one. The weight of her attention was palpable, distinctly felt by both of them, despite their own Demigod status.

After what felt like an age, Belle finally broke the silence.

"So, what you are conveying to me..." she commenced, her eyes narrowing with intensity, "is that you have been cohabiting with my son for three years... and you have not even entertained the notion of engaging in intimacy with him?"

Lisandra's jaw slackened, rendered speechless. Her entire countenance flushed a violent shade of red, an intense hue that seemed almost painful, the color cascading down her neck and reaching her ears.

Alphonse, equally crimson, chose not to verbalize her response, instead turning her head away and fixing her gaze with intense concentration upon the wall.

"Hm," Belle mused, her attention then drifting downwards to her son, who remained reposed in her lap. Her fingers continued to gently sift through his silver locks. "And what about you, my son?"

Despite their profound embarrassment, both women shifted slightly, their movements hesitant, almost against their will, as they awaited Amael's response.

At this juncture, all semblance of propriety had been irrevocably shattered. Belle had effortlessly dismantled every conceivable boundary of decorum with merely two probing questions.

Amael offered a casual shrug. "I am reserving myself for Ephera."

Instantly, Belle reached down, her free hand grasping both of his cheeks and pulling them outward. "That was not the inquiry I posed to you."

"Do you wish to induce their demise from sheer embarrassment, Mother?" Amael inquired, his words somewhat muffled by the gentle tug on his cheeks. "Because that is precisely how one achieves such a result."

Belle's gaze swept back towards the two women, who appeared to be nearing a state of utter overwhelm, and she exhaled a long, profoundly disappointed sigh.

"It appears my desire to behold my grandchildren must regrettably be deferred," she declared with a mournful tone.

"You could have bestowed upon me some siblings, Mother," Amael retorted. "Diversifying your options, as it were."

"I would not permit that man to share my bed again," Belle stated with biting disdain, "until he offers a sincere apology and divulges all that he has been concealing."

"My father, concealing matters." Amael's smile was laced with wry amusement. "What a truly astonishing revelation."

"You should refrain from sounding so self-satisfied," Belle admonied, her eyes narrowing as she repeated the action of pulling his cheeks while simultaneously caressing his hair, a tender yet contradictory gesture. "Especially when you yourself have been concealing these two from me as well."

A palpable sense of hurt resonated beneath her words. Amael had never kept anything from her. That had always been the unspoken pact between them.

"I apologize, Mother," he conveyed, his sincerity absolute. "However, their continued existence necessitated secrecy. Should Michael discover that I have been harboring these two, protecting them, keeping them out of the conflict, and thereby disrupting his futile war, I shall be subjected to his displeasure for an eternity. It is in everyone's best interest that the fewest possible individuals are aware of this situation."

Belle's gaze once more settled upon the two women, re-evaluating them through this newly illuminated perspective.

"I—I am Lisandra," Lisandra stammered, straightening her posture and compelling herself to meet Belle's unwavering eyes. "Lisandra Arvatra."

"I am Alphonse," Alphonse added, her demeanor possessing considerably more composure than Lisandra had managed to muster. "Alphonse Sylvain Celesta."

Amael's head tilted almost imperceptibly within Belle's lap, a realization dawning upon him that seemed entirely novel.

"Wait," he interjected, his gaze directed at Alphonse with a look of genuine surprise. "Your given name is Alphonse?"

Alphonse offered a nod of affirmation.

"Your actual name?" he pressed further. "Not a fabricated identity?"

She nodded once more.

Amael stared at her for a prolonged moment, his expression bordering on disbelief.

"Your parents truly overstepped with this elaborate charade."

"I am aware; my full name is even more masculine..." she stated softly, "Alphonse Sylvain Celesta."

A brief silence followed as Amael processed this information. Then, his expression underwent a noticeable transformation.

"Oh." He gazed at her smiling. "How about we change Sylvain to Sylvia?"

"Are you her mother, Amael?" Lisandra questioned with a grimace.

Amael directed his smile towards Lisandra. "You had an easier time, Lisandra. Would you prefer I call you Lisandro?"

"N—Never!"

"That's precisely what I thought," he declared with evident satisfaction.

Meanwhile, Alphonse had become utterly still. Her hand drifted upwards, touching her still-damp platinum blonde hair, fingers slightly curling into the strands. A rare shyness colored her expression.

"Sylvia..." she whispered. Then, her sapphire eyes lifted to meet Amael's, a shy question in them. "I—I like it."

"..."

Amael held her gaze for a moment longer than he had intended.

Illuminated by the flickering firelight, her face gently flushed, her platinum hair catching the warm luminescence, those luminous sapphire eyes fixed upon him with such open, unguarded happiness, she appeared...

"How cute."

Amael's head snapped towards his mother, shattering whatever moment had been building between them.

Belle gazed down at him, her expression brimming with fondness. She had clearly observed the entire exchange, her amusement the particular knowing kind only a mother possesses.

He grunted, quickly averting his gaze.

Belle let out a soft giggle and gently pulled his head into an embrace against her.

"You may name your wives," she stated, "but I will be the one naming my grandchildren."

"They aren't my wives, Mother," Amael reiterated.

Belle merely continued her tender gestures, her fingers weaving through his silver hair. "You can hide nothing from your mother, my sweet boy. I know everything. I can perceive all your feelings with a single glance."

Amael looked up at her, and despite everything—despite the embarrassment—he found himself smiling.

"Yeah," he conceded. "I truly can't hide anything from you, Mother."

From across the fire, Lisandra and Sylvia also found themselves smiling, watching the interaction with a gentle warmth blooming in their chests. They had never witnessed Amael so relaxed, so completely, utterly at ease.

Within a few more minutes, still nestled in Belle's lap with her fingers tracing patterns through his hair, Amael's eyes fluttered closed, his breathing deepening into the steady cadence of sleep.

Belle gazed down at him for a long moment, her expression impossibly tender, before lifting her eyes to the two women seated opposite them.

"Did he mention Ephera?" she inquired.

Both women nodded.

"Then you've heard about his past life, if one could even call it that. His life as Nyrel?"

"A portion of it," Lisandra admitted, glancing at Sylvia, who nodded in agreement. "But honestly, it was quite confusing. We struggled to grasp its full meaning."

"Consider it another existence he traversed," Belle explained, her gaze returning to Amael's sleeping face, her expression a complex blend of a mother's love and sorrow. "A life where he endured far greater losses and pain than anyone should face. Pain he never deserved."

"Does that pertain to Ephera?" Sylvia asked softly.

"Partially." Belle's fingers momentarily paused their caress in Amael's hair before resuming their movement. "She did pass away, yes. But prior to that, his family in that life—his parents, his sister—they all perished as well. He was stripped of absolutely everyone. Everything."

Both women let out soft gasps.

They too had lost their parents, but it wasn't the same. Their familial relationships had been, at best, strained and political. They hadn't been particularly close to the remaining parent either. But to lose individuals you genuinely cherished, your entire family...

"Nihil pledged to return Ephera," Belle continued, her voice now acquiring a harder edge, "in exchange for Amael's compliance. His cooperation with whatever schemes Nihil harbors for him."

"Amael alluded to that..." Lisandra murmured, nodding.

"That man is scarcely dependable." The words emerged sharp and laced with bitterness. "He consistently prioritizes Eden before making any decision. His fealty to Eden eclipses all else, even his own son."

"But Amael is his son," Sylvia interjected, her confusion palpable.

"He is. And I suppose Nihil does harbor affection for him in his own fashion." Belle conceded. "However, his emotions are... intricate. Intertwined with too many other factors. His devotion to Eden. His guilt concerning Samael. He could never, will never, love Amael as I do. Not with such purity, such simplicity, not with his entire heart."

Lisandra and Sylvia exchanged glances, a hint of amusement in their eyes. Amael had expressed the very same sentiment to them.

Belle then continued, her expression growing more somber.

"There are precious few souls who cherish my son for who he inherently is," she stated, her gaze now fixed directly upon both of them. "Rather than for his possessions, his formidable power, his prestigious lineage, or his potential utility in their machinations." Her silver eyes scanned their faces intently. "But the two of you... you appear to love him for his very being. Simply for him."

A flush spread across both women’s faces. They didn’t voice their agreement, finding it difficult to speak the words aloud, yet their silence served as a clear confirmation. The unspoken understanding was enough.

Belle’s features softened as she easily perceived their thoughts.

"He is doing quite well here," she stated gently. "He seems happy, in a way I haven't witnessed for a very long time. My sincere hope is that this state continues. However, simply his existence is perceived as either a threat or a valuable prize by those in positions of power. When this reality becomes undeniable, when opposing forces inevitably move against him, will you stand by his side to offer support?"

"We lack the strength to protect him," Sylvia admitted, her hands clenching in her lap with evident frustration.

While they were indeed Demigods, a vast and unbridgeable chasm separated their current abilities from Amael’s. The disparity was even greater when compared to the truly formidable beings Belle was alluding to.

Yet, Belle offered a slight shake of her head.

"I am not requesting that you fight his battles," she clarified. "My request is for your support as friends, or perhaps something more. As individuals who love him and are cherished by him in return. That kind of emotional fortitude holds a significance you might underestimate."

"We will be there for him," Lisandra affirmed. "But isn't that why you are here? You are his mother, and you are clearly..."

Her sentence trailed off, but the inference was unmistakable. Belle possessed immense power; both women could sense her genuine, and frankly terrifying, might. Surely, she could offer him protection far beyond anyone else's capabilities.

"I am indeed here," Belle confirmed. "And I shall invariably be present for my son, to whatever extent I am able. However, I am not oblivious to my own limitations." Her expression turned somber. "There exist powers within this world, forces that far surpass my own strength. And a select few of them are specifically targeting him."

"Even with his connection as the son of Guardian Nihil?" Lisandra inquired, her voice laced with astonishment. What exactly could pose a threat to someone with such a formidable lineage?

Belle responded with a slow nod, her gaze remaining fixed on Amael’s peaceful, sleeping form.

Then, she lifted her eyes to meet theirs, her expression serious.

"I wish for you to make me a promise."

Both women instinctively straightened, directing their undivided attention toward Belle.

"Should a genuine threat materialize, should his life be placed in mortal peril by forces beyond our collective capacity to combat, you must take him away from this place," she implored. "Take him far away. If necessary, even to another world."

"A—Another world?" Sylvia echoed, her voice betraying her surprise.

Belle nodded resolutely. "A sanctuary where he can find safety. A place where no one can reach him or exploit him. A realm where he can be freed from the burdens of his destiny, his bloodline, and any prophecies that bind him. A place where he can simply... exist."

She paused, a flicker of complex emotion crossing her features.

"I suspect Amael himself would not desire such an escape," she confessed with a sigh. "He is not the sort of person who flees or shirks responsibility, even when it proves to be immensely taxing. Regrettably, however, his mere presence, his very nature, makes certain outcomes unavoidable without such drastic measures." Her silver eyes met theirs with unwavering intensity. "Promise me. If that critical moment arrives, if you perceive no other viable course of action, you will ensure his safety elsewhere. Even if he resists. Even if he comes to resent you for it."

Lisandra glanced at Sylvia, who returned the look.

In unison, they both nodded their assent.

They harbored doubts about their ability to truly safeguard him, yet they were resolute in their commitment to strive their utmost, a dedication they felt was a modest repayment for everything he had done and continued to do for them.

"We promise," Sylvia stated with conviction.

"We will keep him safe," Lisandra added, her voice firm.

A gentle smile touched Belle’s lips at their assurance.

"Thank you."