I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 771: [The Rewritten Lost Past] [11]
Previously on I Am The Game's Villain...
Amael navigated through the Dragon’s Den at high speed.
His arrival was, as usual, met with many eyes upon him. Some were filled with curiosity, others with disinterest, but an overwhelming number harbored a burning hatred that he could no longer disregard.
For months now, he had perceived a subtle alteration in the atmosphere whenever he passed through. Conversations would halt mid-sentence, and gazes would turn hard the instant they fell upon him. He had initially chosen to overlook these signs, convincing himself it was merely his imagination. However, it had become impossible to ignore; the hostility had intensified considerably.
He was aware, of course, that the relations between dragons and humans had been deteriorating for years. It wasn't a sudden rupture but a gradual, wearing down of trust, fraying bit by bit until the semblance of peace was almost non-existent. Yet, understanding this fact intellectually was vastly different from experiencing its oppressive weight as he traversed a place he once considered his sanctuary.
Dismissing the thought, he ascended, aiming for the loftiest peak that extended above the rest of the Den like a regal crown. Even from a considerable distance, the familiar form of Vysindra could be seen resting along the ridge, his immense presence as unhurried as ever. As Amael drew nearer, though, he noticed Vysindra was not alone.
Beside him lay another dragon, slightly smaller but equally majestic, her white scales reflecting the dim light and scattering it like freshly fallen snow. Amael recognized her instantly – Vysindra’s mate. But nestled between them, completely overshadowed by their colossal bodies, was something that caused Amael to instinctively slow his approach. It was a small dragon, no larger than a boulder in comparison, its scales a soft, vibrant purple, reminiscent of a bruised twilight sky. It was clearly newborn, retaining that rounded, undeveloped appearance of a creature yet to fully mature.
He landed softly, not wishing to disturb them, but all three turned towards him the very moment his boots met the stone.
“You have arrived, brat,” Vysindra rumbled.
“I trust I haven’t interrupted anything… private?” Amael quipped with a grin.
Vysindra’s mate observed him with a placid expression. “You have not,” she stated evenly. “And you won’t be interrupting anything private for at least the next two decades.” Without further comment, she rose, gently nudged the small purple dragon with her snout, and departed. The hatchling cast a brief glance back at Amael, emitting a tiny, high-pitched squeal entirely incongruous with its powerful lineage, before hurrying after its mother.
Amael watched them recede, then turned his gaze back to Vysindra, an eyebrow raised. “Well. I had thought I’d stumbled upon a touching family moment.”
Vysindra snorted, a wisp of smoke escaping his nostrils. “She is displeased.”
“I can see that. Why?”
“She believes I have been too accommodating towards the others,” Vysindra explained, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon instead of Amael. “That I lower my head when I should be unleashing fury.”
“She speaks of the other dragons?” Amael inquired. “Is she not mistaken?”
Vysindra let out a low, weary growl, more of exhaustion than threat. “To cultivate peace requires patience. It necessitates listening even when the words spoken are unwelcome. My mate perceives patience as weakness, and she believes that unanswered disrespect only breeds further insolence.”
Amael tilted his head slightly. “I don’t entirely disagree with her, you know. Didn’t you always say you resort to violence before words?”
“Perhaps in the past,” Vysindra replied softly. “Before I had a mate. Before I had a daughter. The considerations shift when one has something precious to protect.”
Amael froze. “Protecting them from your own kind? Has it truly come to this?”
Vysindra offered no vocal response. A deep, resonant sound emanated from his chest, conveying everything words could not.
A heavy silence ensued before Vysindra spoke again. “More and more dragons are succumbing to that man. That self-proclaimed king who intrudes upon our territory as if he fashioned it himself. Redhoria is our ancestral land, and he possessed the audacity to twist its name into his own title, adorning it like a crown forged from that which never belonged to him.”
“That is a truly remarkable level of arrogance,” Amael remarked.
Vysindra let out a soft scoff. “My desire is to incinerate him. Him and every warrior who pledges loyalty to him. I wish to reduce them all to cinders and be finished with it.”
Amael remained silent for a moment. “I suspect you are not the only one harboring such a wish.”
"No," Vysindra stated, his voice firm. "I am not that. However, if we were to act with fire and fury, we would instantly provide every pacifist human and impartial race the exact image they dread. We would transform into the dreaded monsters they already suspect us of being. That man would become a martyr, his name immortalized precisely because we gave it cause, and any prospect of genuine peace between dragon and human would perish with the lingering smoke." He let out a slow breath. "Therefore, I restrain myself. My wife observes my restraint, believing I prioritize the world over my own family."
Amael absorbed this for a moment before speaking with caution. "Your kin are not mistaken in their desire to retaliate. You cannot expect a populace to indefinitely endure humiliation in the name of a peace that seems to exclusively favor those perpetrating the oppression." He faltered for a second, then met Vysindra’s gaze directly. "What do you believe will transpire if they target your wife? Your daughter?"
The transformation in Vysindra was chilling. His scales, usually a deep hue, shifted to a furious, throbbing violet, emitting waves of barely contained heat. When he turned his gaze toward Amael, his eyes lacked their usual wisdom. "I would incinerate the entire world," he declared.
Amael let out a sigh upon hearing this. He stood and stepped onto Vysindra’s broad back, positioning himself amidst the ridges of his spine.
"What exactly are you doing?" Vysindra inquired.
"Ensuring it never reaches that point," Amael replied, his smile unwavering. "Come now. Convey me to this Redhoran, this self-proclaimed sovereign of your domain. It is time for our introduction."
"Are you being serious?" Vysindra questioned, tilting his colossal head to regard Amael with one immense eye.
"Beyond serious," Amael stated plainly. "Unless, of course, you harbor apprehension towards him."
Vysindra emitted a sound that was a blend of a scoff and a growl, then unfurled his wings with a single, vast sweep, propelling himself towards the sky. The sheer force of the motion sent loose stones skittering over the peak’s edge. Amael clung low against the spine’s ridges, feeling the biting cold air rush past as the ground rapidly receded below them.
The other dragons in the Den observed their departure with peculiar, indecipherable expressions. Not a single word was spoken.
For a period, Amael remained silent as well. He shared the wind, the quiet, and the immense, pale sky stretching limitlessly in all directions. Then, softly, he laid a hand against Vysindra’s scales.
"I wish circumstances had unfolded differently," he expressed.
Vysindra offered no immediate response.
"As do I. Yet, conflict has perpetually been a part of this world and will persist. Your extended lifespan has imparted this understanding more profoundly than most. That fixation on peace you harbor, you must release it."
"It is an obsession everyone should embrace," Amael countered. "Peace ought not to be a mere aspiration. It should be the norm."
"Not within this world," Vysindra responded, his tone devoid of any bitterness. It held only the weary conviction of one who had witnessed enough to cease arguing with reality.
Their flight continued in silence thereafter. Minutes elapsed, stretching towards half an hour, until an object materialized on the horizon, steadily growing larger as Vysindra’s wings devoured the distance. Amael leaned forward, squinting against the wind.
A encampment. A colossal one. Tents sprawled across the landscape below, resembling a secondary city, and even from their aerial vantage point, the sheer multitude of them caused his jaw to clench. Campfires, logistical conduits, fortifications – the organized expanse of something constructed with considerable patience.
"At least ten thousand," Amael estimated. "He has been quite industrious. An individual capable of mobilizing such numbers possesses more than mere animosity fueling him. He commands a voice."
"Indeed, he does," Vysindra affirmed. "He found all those who had suffered losses at the hands of dragons and channeled their sorrow into a singular focus. Fear is easily cultivated when one is the one directing attention towards its source."
They had no further opportunity to converse before the encampment became aware of their presence.
"A dragon!"
"Dragon! A dragon looms above!"
"Summon the King! Someone summon the King!"
"Ready the crossbows! Prepare them immediately!"
"Bring it down! Bring that monstrosity down!"
The instant Vysindra’s shadow enveloped the tents, the encampment erupted into chaos. Knights scrambled in every direction, some seeking weaponry, others simply fleeing. The panic was absolute, permeating the ranks like a wildfire through dry foliage, swift and merciless. Enormous crossbows, engineered specifically to pierce thick hides, began to pivot and aim skyward.
"There," Amael indicated, his gaze already fixed upon a large tent situated atop a hill that overlooked the rest of the camp. It had been deliberately positioned there, elevated above all else, visible from every angle. "The primary tent. They are merely making the announcement at this juncture."
"Human arrogance," Vysindra scoffed, a sharp, dismissive sound. He banked hard, angling his dive toward the hill. At the last second, his wings flared, braking his descent. The resulting shockwave sent knights tumbling like discarded game pieces, scattering them across the ground. Vysindra landed with earth-shattering force, his powerful claws gouging deep furrows into the soil. Almost simultaneously, the tent flap was thrown open, revealing a man emerging into the daylight. Soldiers flanked him, weapons drawn and shields held close, forming a protective perimeter. Amael observed him intently. The man was encased in immaculate white and gold plate armor. His hair was the color of spun gold, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the unfolding scene with swift discernment. Redhoran. Shouts erupted from the soldiers behind the man. "Your Majesty, please, step back!" "Get behind us, get behind us now!" Redhoran lifted a single hand, and an immediate silence fell. His gaze, having swept over Vysindra, now settled with palpable curiosity upon the figure perched atop the dragon's back. Amael descended from Vysindra's back, his feet meeting the earth on the hill below. The instant he touched the ground, every sword nearby was leveled in his direction. "A human?!" the soldiers cried. "What is the meaning of this? Who are you?" "Are you Redhoran?" Amael inquired, completely disregarding their questions. "How dare you address the King so—" The hand rose again. Silence returned. "I am," the man stated, taking a slight step forward. "Rumeus Redhoran." Amael regarded him. "Do the sons of Apollo have nothing better to occupy themselves with than warring against a race capable of leveling this entire encampment before your archers could even loose a second arrow?" Rumeus offered a smile. "It is precisely because they possess such capability that we find ourselves compelled to fight. One does not wait for the flames to lick at their doorstep before confronting the fire." "You are enslaving innocents in the process," Amael stated, his voice lowering. "As they have devoured and slaughtered innocents of ours," Rumeus retorted without hesitation. His eyes briefly flickered to Vysindra before returning to Amael. "If you are truly human, you should comprehend this. You should be standing with us, not atop the very being that has inflicted such immense loss upon us." Behind Amael, Vysindra emitted a low growl. Several soldiers behind Rumeus flinched, stumbling back despite their resolve. Rumeus remained unmoved. Amael allowed a brief pause before speaking further. "Both sides have mourned their fallen. The Dragon King desires peace, a sentiment you have not reciprocated. Release those you have taken captive. Convene at a table. Agree to hold your own criminals accountable, and allow the Dragon King to do the same on his side." He paused. "This is a just proposition. It costs you nothing but the war itself." A lengthy silence ensued. Then, Rumeus tilted his head slightly. "Did that dragon enslave you?" he inquired, his tone almost gentle. "Is that the nature of this?" Vysindra's claws dug into the hillside with such force that stone fractured. Without turning, Amael raised a hand, and remarkably, Vysindra restrained himself. Amael's silver eyes fixed upon Rumeus, unwavering. "I do not perceive you as foolish," he said quietly. "I believe you fully grasp that Vysindra and his kin could reduce this camp to rubble before noon, utterly beyond the reach of your crossbows, your walls, or your weapons. I suspect you are relying on something else entirely. If the dragons strike first, every other race will witness them obliterate a human army and conclude the ancient tales were true all along. Every neutral faction will turn into an adversary. Your father will descend from his vantage point, and the dragons will face war on all fronts simultaneously." He held Rumeus's gaze. "That is your strategy. You are counting on them initiating the conflict." Rumeus remained silent, yet a subtle shift occurred within his blue eyes. "There is one element you have failed to consider," Amael continued, taking a slow step forward. "I am present. And if I so chose, I could eliminate you and annihilate every soldier in this camp with my own hands. And unlike the dragons, no one would rise to your defense. No alliance would form. No banners would be unfurled." A faint smile touched his lips. "Because no one would dare. Ask your father. He understands better than anyone that I am not a variable you can factor into your plans." "You—" one of the knights began, stepping forward. --BOOOOM!!The might that emanated from Amael wasn't a mere sound or flame, but an overwhelming, inescapable pressure, as if the heavens themselves were descending. Knights in the vicinity crumpled instantly, some falling unconscious before their boots even touched the ground. Those with greater fortitude bent at the knees, then the waist, straining against an incomprehensible force. One by one, they succumbed.
Only Rumeus remained standing, his arms held slightly aloft, every fiber of his being strained against the invisible weight. His teeth were gritted, his breaths short and measured, yet he held his ground. Amael observed this with no astonishment; the blood of Apollo did not yield easily.
Amael advanced slowly, and with each measured step, Rumeus's struggle intensified. By the time Amael reached him and placed a hand upon his shoulder, Rumeus's knees finally buckled, collapsing to the ground with a heavy, muffled thud.
"Ughhh!!"
"Father!"
The cry echoed from within the tent. Amael's gaze lifted.
Through the open tent flap, they were visible: a woman and a small child, both frozen, the child's eyes wide with palpable terror.
"Stay back!" Rumeus grunted, his teeth clenched, an outstretched arm warding them away.
Amael paused, observing them for a moment before turning his attention back to Rumeus.
"You possess a family," Amael stated, his tone softening slightly from its prior menace. "Just as they do. Every dragon within that Den cherishes individuals they would sacrifice everything for, mirroring your own devotion." He straightened and removed his hand. "Instead of succumbing to fear and razing what exists, build something for your children. This is a conflict you cannot win, and I am warning you now, before it claims everything you hold dear, not after." He held Rumeus's gaze for a final, piercing moment. "Release the dragons and embrace peace. Do not compel me to return."
He turned, walked back towards Vysindra, and ascended.
His gaze swept back to Rumeus one last time.
"Because my next visit will not be for discussion."
Vysindra's wings unfurled with a powerful snap, the resulting shockwave flattening what remained of the camp below as they ascended.