I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 772: [The Rewritten Lost Past] [12]

"That’s enough for today," Amael declared, his voice cutting through the exertion-filled air.

He turned his gaze upon the two figures before him. Lisandra and Sylvia, both kneeling on the ground, their chests rising and falling with heavy breaths.

The immediate vicinity bore testament to their training session; the last hour etched into the landscape. Scars marked the soil, bark was rent, patches of grass lay scorched, and several trees teetered on the brink of collapse. He had indeed pushed them relentlessly tonight, perhaps more than usual, yet their resilience had not faltered. That, at least, was a measure of their progress.

He decided against escalating their efforts further. The very ground seemed to sigh for respite, and unsettling presences stirred in the shadowed depths beyond the treeline, entities best left undisturbed.

He started to turn away.

"Why."

Amael halted, pivoting back towards the sound.

"What do you mean?"

Sylvia remained on her knees, her gaze fixed on an indeterminate point above.

"Why is the disparity so vast?" she finally articulated, the question tumbling out. "We are both Demigods. You are too. So why does it feel as though we’re at the bottom of an abyss with no apparent end in sight?"

Lisandra remained silent, but her countenance spoke volumes, echoing Sylvia's unspoken sentiments. A familiar, stifling frustration emanated from her, not born of external anger, but an internal tempest of self-reproach, of hitting an unyielding barrier again and again.

Six years. For six years, they had relentlessly trained under his tutelage, fought by his side, and relentlessly pushed beyond their perceived limitations, only to discover new horizons of strength. They were undeniably more potent now; the difference palpable in the fluid grace of their movements, the lightning speed of their reflexes, and the surge of power that answered their call. Yet, in their sparring sessions against Amael, the perceived gap between them stubbornly refused to diminish. Instead, it widened into a chasm, its visibility increasing in direct proportion to their own advancements, as if their very improvement only served to highlight the immense distance separating them from him.

And beneath the frustration, if either dared to be completely honest with themselves, lay a more profound and unsettling emotion. A gnawing fear that one day, the gulf would become so insurmountable that they would be irrevocably left behind.

"You are closing it," Amael stated calmly. "Perhaps you cannot perceive it from your vantage point, but I see it with absolute clarity. Your combined progress is accelerating at a rate that should concern any observer, and with each step you take, I elevate my own standards. You are advancing—"

"That is not enough!" Lisandra interjected sharply, cutting him off mid-sentence.

She was already on her feet, her single crimson eye blazing beneath the moon's soft luminescence. The instant the words escaped her lips, she seemed to register their intensity and instinctively drew her injured arm closer to her chest.

Her anger wasn't directed at him; she knew that with certainty. It was a furious self-recrimination, a bitter resentment towards the persistent helplessness that clung to her despite her strenuous efforts, and the chilling thought that regardless of her dedication, some heights in this world might forever remain beyond her grasp.

"I apologize," she murmured, her voice losing its sharp edge. "I merely…"

Amael let out a long sigh.

He took a single, decisive step forward, traversing the space between them in an instant, materializing before her so swiftly that she barely registered his movement. A reflexive flinch rippled through her, causing her to recoil slightly, a primal instinct anticipating the resumption of their combat training. However, his hands remained relaxed, not assuming a fighting stance. Instead, one ascended slowly, gently cupping her face. His thumb came to rest softly against her left cheek.

He held the pose for a beat, then, with deliberate tenderness, he moved aside the makeshift covering she habitually wore over her left eye, the same one lost in her encounter with Metatron.

Lisandra froze, every muscle tensing.

His thumb exerted a gentle pressure against her closed eyelid, and a subtle silver luminescence began to emanate from the point of contact. It bloomed silently and steadily, spreading outwards like light diffusing through water, bathing the area around her eye socket. A comforting warmth permeated where there had long been only cold emptiness.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Do not move," he instructed softly.

She obeyed without hesitation. A profound trust, requiring no conscious thought, flowed through her. Whatever was transpiring, she surrendered to it, even as the faint tingling intensified, bordering on discomfort, even as her breath hitched and tears welled in her eye. She remained utterly still, allowing him to work his inexplicable magic.

Sylvia observed the unfolding scene from her position, silent, her breathing shallow.

Approximately five minutes elapsed. Perhaps longer. Then Amael exhaled, and the silver light gradually receded. His hand lowered to his side.

Lisandra looked up at him, and her breath caught in her throat.

His left eye, the one that had always shone with a deep, ethereal silver, now appeared a simple, unadorned grey.

"Your eye…" she stammered, disbelief coloring her tone.

"Open yours," he commanded gently.

She understood his intent even before he finished speaking. Her hand rose almost involuntarily, and she slowly opened her left eye. A luminous silver hue now filled its depths.

She could see.

For a moment, she just stood there, blinking, her vision adjusting. Then she blinked again, realizing mere adjustment wasn't the right word for the profound change. She could perceive more than she had ever anticipated, more than she recalled, even more than her good eye could offer on its clearest day. The world viewed through that particular eye was astonishingly vivid, sharp, and possessed layers of detail that she lacked the language to describe.

Her gaze fell upon Amael, and a tightness seized her throat.

"W—Why," she managed to utter, her voice quivering with uncertainty.

She couldn't grasp the specifics of his action, but she intuitively understood he had just relinquished something of immense personal value to her.

Amael met her gaze with a soft smile before shifting his attention to Sylvia.

"Get yourselves cleaned up," he instructed. "Both of you. I have something I need to show you." Without awaiting their acknowledgment, he turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving the two women rooted to the spot.

Approximately half an hour later, thoroughly cleansed of dirt and dried sweat, they followed Amael back into the cavern. However, he did not halt at their usual resting place. He proceeded past the familiar expanses of rock and firelight, stopping at the cavern's far end before what had always appeared to be an impenetrable wall of solid rock, a natural dead end.

Lisandra and Sylvia exchanged a questioning look.

"What is that?" Sylvia inquired, her eyes drawn to an object Amael had just produced. It was a key, fashioned from gold and uniquely shaped, its bow intricately formed into the perfect cross of two intersecting lines.

"This," Amael stated, "is the key to that." And without delay, he pressed it firmly into the stone surface.

A brilliant golden light erupted from the point of contact, expanding outward in all directions simultaneously. It surged across the rock's face in luminous, branching patterns. Ancient symbols and runes materialized in its wake, starkly different from the haphazard cracks and textures inherent in natural stone. They pulsed and shifted, connecting with one another until they had precisely traced the outline of a symmetrical, tetragonal circle, burning vividly against the surrounding darkness.

Then, the rock itself began to move. A deep, resonant rumble vibrated through the ground beneath their feet as the wall silently parted, folding inward upon itself.

Both Lisandra and Sylvia gasped, sharp intakes of breath betraying their astonishment.

Beyond the newly revealed opening, torches flickered to life, one after another, their flames catching quickly and burning with a deep, steady orange hue that repelled the shadows, illuminating the space within. It was a chamber, vast enough to contain the cavern they slept in twice over, lined from floor to ceiling with what appeared to be the accumulated treasures of an entire lifetime of collecting. Shelves overflowed with books bearing scripts Lisandra couldn't immediately decipher. Chests of varying sizes lay scattered about, some ajar, others sealed with mechanisms of unfamiliar design. Artifacts of every imaginable form were arranged with the meticulous care of someone who understood their precise value. Gold was present, certainly, but it was not the kind of wealth that truly mattered in this place. The chamber exuded the distinct atmosphere of a library rather than a mere treasury.

For six years, they had slept a mere thirty feet from this hidden marvel, yet had never sensed its presence.

"What is this place?" Lisandra stammered, her voice laced with awe.

"Does it belong to you?" Sylvia added, her curiosity piqued.

Amael shook his head. "It belonged to Enigma."

Lisandra turned to him, seeking clarification. "Enigma?"

"Everything within this room is hers," he affirmed, his gaze sweeping slowly over the shelves and chests. "Every artifact, every written word, every single object. She gathered it all and sealed it away in here. I've delved into everything worth reading, and emerged with more questions than I began with, which is perhaps its own form of answer." A faint, soft chuckle escaped him. "However, there are items within this chamber that even the Gods themselves would prefer that individuals like you, or even like myself, remain unaware of. Secrets deliberately buried. Forbidden knowledge." His hand settled on a long, sealed structure near the wall, shaped like a coffin. He let it rest there for a moment before continuing. "Everything here carries significant weight and importance. My own father would gladly incinerate a considerable portion of his wealth to acquire certain pieces from this collection, and he is not a man easily swayed by desire."

Sylvia's brow furrowed slightly. "I don't quite grasp that. Surely, Gods possess limitless means of acquisition, do they not?"

"There are truths contained within this room that even the Gods were never intended to comprehend," Amael stated, pushing away from the wall and moving further into the chamber. "The Khaos Princesses were not known for disseminating their discoveries. They typically kept their findings to themselves. Yet, amongst sisters, they demonstrated remarkable cooperation, despite their differing perspectives, and the knowledge they unearthed and created together found its resting place here." He glanced back at them, a subtle smile gracing his lips. "Not all wisdom descends from the divine. Some of it was discovered by those who dared to look in directions the Gods deemed insignificant."

Lisandra advanced deeper into the chamber, an unseen pull guiding her steps. Sylvia trailed closely, her gaze sweeping diligently across each shelf.

"I once brought my mother to this place," Amael's voice resonated from behind them, laced with genuine fondness. "She showed little interest then, which I admit surprised me. But for the two of you, I believe it will offer something beyond mere training. Perspective, perhaps. A foundational knowledge that deepens skill. Also, artifacts here possess practical applications for your current endeavors, tangible ones, not mere theories."

Sylvia halted, turning to face him. "Why reveal this now?" she inquired softly. "This place has existed mere steps from our resting place for six years, and you never uttered a word. Why the sudden disclosure?"

Amael leaned against the nearest wall, crossing his arms, and fell silent for a beat.

"Do you truly need to ask?" he finally responded. "I have shared this sanctuary with only one other soul in my life before this evening: my mother. And now, the two of you." He let the statement linger. "The order of that revelation holds significance."

A hushed solemnity fell upon them at his words.

"My history with permanence is not great. Every significant creation I've built crumbles, only for me to find another worthy of preservation, and the cycle repeats." He was recalling Nyrel, though he did not voice the name. "That's primarily why I've maintained a certain distance from those I might grow to care for. Investing too deeply means a longer fall." He paused. "However, I already made that misstep with both of you, unintentionally, somewhere along the path. My only recourse now is to ensure those connections do not sever."

Neither Lisandra nor Sylvia uttered a syllable. They regarded him with identical expressions—open, utterly still, their heartbeats thrumming loudly in their own ears, anticipating, yet hesitant to lean into whatever he would reveal next.

Amael registered their quiet attention but averted his gaze.

"That is why I've decided to embrace my role," he stated.

Lisandra's eyes widened. "What?"

"Remain composed," he cautioned, raising a hand. "I will accept Michael's tutelage. He will mold me into a proper Vessel. This will amplify my strength, which is crucial presently. The sooner I commit, the faster I can attain genuine command over what I contain, rather than merely managing it."

"Y—You cannot," Sylvia interjected, stepping forward, her voice trembling with alarm. "If you gather the Sins—"

"I am the Vessel, Sylvia." He met her gaze directly. "This is not a designation I sought, but it is intrinsically woven into my being. To resist it does not negate its truth. Embracing it, mastering it, controlling it—that is the sole trajectory leading away from catastrophe." He held her gaze a moment longer. "Once I possess that mastery, once I understand what resides within me and how to bear it correctly, then we can contemplate what lies beyond. A future that is genuinely conceivable. For us."

The final words dispersed softly into the air as he moved, already departing before either woman could reply, slipping from the chamber back into the cavern's embrace without a backward glance.

The silence he left behind was immense.

After a prolonged pause, Sylvia and Lisandra slowly turned to exchange glances.

"Did he just...?"