I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 773: [The Rewritten Lost Past] [13]

　　"Are you certain about this, Amael?" Belle inquired, positioning herself beside him with her arms crossed.

　　"I am," he confirmed, his gaze not meeting hers. "And you didn't need to accompany me."

　　She had reacted much as he had anticipated when he declared his full cooperation with Michael and his father, his willingness to embrace the role of Vessel without resistance. He was weary of evading the destiny Samael Eveningstar's assembly of the Sins had ordained for him.

　　Belle's apprehension wasn't vociferous; it was a deep, quiet dread, yet undeniably present. She was loath to lose the son she had nurtured to whatever entity her husband's legacy would transmute him into.

　　"I am your mother," she stated, her voice firm. "I shall go wherever you go."

　　Amael turned his head towards her, a fleeting softness momentarily gracing his features.

　　"Love you, Mother," he murmured.

　　"Love you too, sweetheart," she replied warmly.

　　"What a touching display of affection."

　　His arrival had been entirely unnoticed by either of them.

　　They simultaneously looked upwards. A figure was descending from the heavens with unhurried grace, his pristine white robes undisturbed by any breeze, his golden hair ablaze with reflected light. A wide, almost excessively bright smile adorned his face.

　　Sapphire blue eyes met theirs. Four immense, brilliant white wings were folded neatly against his back.

　　It was Michael.

　　Guardian Archangel. Supreme Commander of Eden's celestial legions. His titles were among the most exceedingly rare, and his power, surpassed only by the Khaos Princesses and the Ymir Kings, positioned him as one of the most formidable beings traversing any realm. Within Eden itself, his authority rendered him virtually unassailable.

　　However, to Amael, he was merely an irritating and arrogant individual.

　　And to Belle, he was nothing short of a scoundrel.

　　"You took your sweet time," Amael commented, his irritation barely concealed.

　　Michael simply smiled.

　　And then, he was gone.

　　"...!

　　Amael pivoted instantly.

　　Too late.

　　-BAM!!!

　　The strike landed squarely on his side, an indiscernible blur that evaded his senses. The sharp, agonizing crack of his arm bones fracturing under a defense he could barely muster echoed. The sheer force of the impact propelled him across the opulent garden, through meticulously kept flowerbeds and manicured hedgerows, blasting him clean through to the other side. The ground abruptly ceased, giving way to open air at the waterfall's edge. He plunged downwards, hitting the water below with the resounding crash of a falling boulder.

　　-BOOOM!!

　　"Amael!"

　　Belle was already in motion before the splash had fully subsided.

　　The water churned. A spherical pressure wave swelled beneath the surface before erupting upwards, sending a wide spray into the air. Amael emerged, drenched, his hair plastered to his scalp, his arm hanging at an unnatural angle from the elbow. His eyes, fixing on Michael hovering above the falls, burned with a quiet, cold intensity.

　　Belle reached the bank beside him in the same instant, her hands immediately finding his injured arm. She enveloped the swollen area with both palms, her skin glowing with a silver-white light, and gently stroked once. The bruising visibly receded. With a sharp crack that reverberated against the water, his bone snapped back into its proper alignment.

　　She then straightened.

　　Her entire body trembled. The silver aura radiated from her in palpable waves, and the water around their feet quaked, droplets levitating from the surface under the sheer, effortless pressure she exerted.

　　Michael observed her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You wouldn't engage me here, Belle."

　　"I would kill you here," she retorted, her voice steely.

　　Michael let out a soft exhale through his nose. "You utter that each time." His gaze shifted past her, settling on Amael, and the amusement in his expression subtly cooled. "She has invariably been this way with you. Every minor hurt, every bruise, she rushes to your side. And you permit it." He tilted his head slightly. "Weaker than you were a decade ago. I expended minimal effort in that kick, and you failed to anticipate it. You did not sense it approaching." He shook his head with a sigh. "Clinging to your mother's support will not forge you into what you must become, boy. It never has."

　　"The number of times I rely on my mother's support is my own affair and has nothing to do with you," Amael stated, pointing a finger accusingly at Michael. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Simply confess it. You are envious. You, Gabriel, your entire irritating cohort of siblings, all born from Raphiel's essence, yet she grants none of you even a passing glance. That must gnaw at you incessantly."

　　Michael's smile slowly faded from his visage.

　　A brilliant golden circle materialized beneath them, the Edenic Circle blazing intensely upon the water's surface. Amael's eyes widened for a mere fraction of a second before primal instinct took over. He forcefully shoved Belle sideways with all his might.

　　-BOOM

　　The water erupted in a colossal pillar of gold, tearing upwards from the waterfall's base. It gouged the rock and sent foam soaring skyward as if the very earth had expelled something.

　　Belle landed hard at the water's edge, skidding but catching her balance. She snapped her head back towards the spot where her son had been standing, her expression etched with concern.

　　Shards of purple energy, crackling and vibrant, wove through the rising smoke and cascading spray.

　　"I'm alright, Mother," a voice called out.

The water eventually stilled, allowing Amael to be seen. He stood amidst the debris, chest heaving, crimson liquid flowing from a fresh gash above his eye and another across his forearm. He had managed to conjure a barrier of Wrath at the final moment. It had held just long enough before shattering like fragile glass.

"What is wrong with you?!" Belle confronted Michael, her voice filled with fury.

He descended a short distance. "Training. Which is what you requested of me, if my memory serves me correctly." The hint of pleasantness in his tone had vanished, replaced by a blunt, unapologetic demeanor. "If you desire me to push the Vessel through his paces without him sustaining injuries, you will need to find another. He will remain precisely as he is now, and when Lucifer arrives, or that warped Altara of Samael, whoever manages to reach him first will tear him apart, and there will be nothing you can do to prevent it. Is that what you want?"

Belle's fists clenched at her sides.

She understood, though she loathed the knowledge. Her understanding did not make the sight any easier to bear.

"It's fine," Amael repeated, his voice gentle.

A silvery light pulsed within him, moving with a slow, rhythmic quality, akin to breathing. Faint markings, like delicate feathers, materialized beneath his skin, tracing paths up his arms and across his chest. They glowed softly before gradually fading. As they disappeared, so did the wounds. The exhaustion etched on his face, however, remained. His breathing was still labored, but he was physically whole once more.

He lifted his gaze to meet Michael's.

"Whatever you put me through," he stated, "I will endure it."

Michael's smile returned, this time conveying approval and a sense of satisfaction that his charge was compliant.

"Good. That is how the Vessel of Samael conducts himself." He turned, unfurling his wings. "Keep up. And instruct Horus' daughter to refrain from interfering further." Without awaiting a response, he ascended.

Amael exhaled slowly and approached Belle.

By the time he reached her, she was already gazing up at him. A smile graced her lips, though it clearly held a slight tremor. Her hand moved to his face, her palm pressing against his cheek, her thumb brushing once over the spot where the cut had been.

"I know you require this," she conveyed. "But do not you dare ask me to cease worrying. Not ever." She drew his head down and embraced him, her fingers gently caressing his silver hair. "My sweet boy."

...

...

The Garden of Eden seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions.

It sprawled outward, featuring golden grasses, ancient pathways, and air so pristine it was almost painful to inhale. At its center, the Holy Tree ascended to staggering heights, capable of leaving even the mightiest angels breathless before they could ever hope to reach its summit. The entire expanse resonated with the purest mana and energy. Eden's realm flowed through the sky above in elongated streams, upholding its borders, maintaining its wards, and preserving the boundaries between the mortal worlds and the forces pressing in from the outside.

Yet, a number of them had come to a complete halt.

They hovered in the air in loose formations, their wings moving minimally, all focused on the same spectacle below.

"Who is she?"

"Not an angel, but is she mortal? A mortal within the Garden?"

"No. No, she is not mortal."

"She is..."

None of them completed their thoughts, utterly captivated by the divine beauty seated like an exquisite statue beneath them.

Belle was seated in the golden grass below, a vision of silver against the gold, seemingly oblivious to their scrutiny. Her attention was fixed straight ahead, on the dome Michael had erected across the field, an opaque barrier impervious to sound and damage. From the exterior, it conveyed an image of peace. Calm light emanated from it, with no visible movement, offering no hint of the one-sided conflict unfolding on the other side.

Her brow, however, indicated otherwise.

She sat with her brow furrowed, hands clasped in her lap, observing the dome with an unwavering gaze.

A radiant white light then bloomed behind them.

The angels suspended in the air above were the first to perceive it. The act of bowing commenced even before their gasps were fully uttered, a wave of reverence spreading through their ranks. Wings folded, heads bowed, the scramble to show respect was almost comical in its sheer speed.

"Lord Nihil!"

"Do you not all have obligations elsewhere?"

The inquiry held no genuine question.

They departed swiftly thereafter.

Nihil's luminous white eyes shifted from their previous focus to the silver-haired woman seated on the grass below. He descended without haste, alighting behind her silently, and paused for a moment before speaking.

"He has grown considerably."

A brief silence ensued.

"You needn't inform me of my son's development," Belle replied, without turning around.

Nihil emitted a soft chuckle.

"No, I suppose that is true." He extended a hand toward her. "Come. We can observe from a closer vantage point."

"If I move any closer and witness him bleeding, I will drive Michael into the ground. Inform me that this is acceptable to you, and I will gladly take your hand."

Nihil regarded her for a moment. The smile that appeared was faint and tinged with nostalgia. "You remain unchanged."

"You haven't, either," she retorted, turning to meet his gaze with silver eyes. "Still running errands for your God, are we? I trust years of devoted service have at least left your tongue too worn out to keep lying with it."

"Are you still angry with me?"

"And why would I be?" Belle asked, rising and dusting off her dress. "You mean nothing to me."

She began to walk.

Nihil followed, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I don't believe you mean that. What began between us with a specific purpose evolved into something genuine. You know that just as well as I do."

"The only beings you've ever truly cherished are Eden and yourself," she stated, not looking at him. "And in that order."

"That's not true. I love you. I love our son."

Belle's pace faltered. Her eyes scanned the surroundings with a flicker of mild interest – the expansive sky, the distant pathways weaving through the hedgerows.

"Are you quite sure it's wise to say such things out here?" Her tone was light, laced with mockery. "Aniha has eyes everywhere. She won't appreciate hearing it. Has she ever heard it, for that matter? You have a first wife, Nihil. Have you ever looked her in the eye and uttered those words?"

"Your animosity towards her has always been—"

"Unjustified. Yes," something in Belle's voice turned icy. "Go tell her that to her face. Then, while you're there, count the numerous times she's made threats to end my son's life. Count how many times you stood right beside her and did absolutely nothing." She turned her head briefly, just enough for him to catch the expression in her eyes. "Although, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You never genuinely cared about him. You cared about what he possessed. What he had the potential to become. What his purpose was."

"Aniha is prone to worry. She always has been. She rarely acts impulsively—"

"She had better not," Belle's voice remained level, devoid of any raised volume. It didn't need to be. "The moment she dares, I will bury her so deep beneath this garden that they will forget anything was ever interred there."

Nihil let out a sigh.

"Belle, I believe we are long overdue for a sincere conversation."

She stopped walking.

Turning to face him fully this time, the look she directed at him could have stripped the bark from a tree.

"We will converse," she declared, "on the day you cease your deception. On the day you stop dictating what I am permitted and not permitted to know about my own son." Her voice frayed slightly at the edges. "Until then, Nihil, you have absolutely nothing to say that I wish to hear."

With that, she turned and continued on her way.

He remained rooted to the spot where she had left him, observing her retreat with a complex mixture of emotions playing across his face.