I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 780: [The Rewritten Lost Past] [20]

Hovering in the sky, a considerable distance from the Falkrona Estate, was Belle Falkrona.

Visits to the estate had become infrequent for her.

A century and more had elapsed, and the familiar household she once knew had drastically transformed. The occupants were strangers now, their voices unheard of, the old chambers echoing with memories of the departed rather than the living. Time, in its relentless fashion, had replaced, softened, and erased. Even the bloodline itself had diluted over successive generations, until the remaining kin felt less like family and more like a mere fading resonance of one.

Yet, Belle found herself drawn back sometimes.

Not for the Estate's physical presence, nor truly for its current inhabitants, but for the symbolism it held.

Presently, her foster brother's lineage, and indeed his rightful bloodline, held dominion there. Though not of Falkrona birth herself, the mere fact that her father was Horus, the progenitor and God of the House, lent her a more genuine claim.

She had been entrusted to the Head back then, growing up alongside her foster brother.

Their connection had never been straightforward. It was a tapestry woven with contradictions: closeness intertwined with distance, affection with resentment, warmth alongside ancient wounds that neither had ever fully articulated. Nevertheless, despite all complexities, he had been the sole individual granted access to that sanctuary within her heart.

He was no longer present.

Only his descendants persisted, generation after generation assuming stewardship of the House, the title, the lands, and the inherent burdens of the Falkrona name. They were not hers, not in the deepest sense. Not like Amael was hers. Still, they recognized her identity. The current Head of the House, in particular, understood the imperative not to forget it.

Belle's gaze settled upon the distant Estate, her silver eyes betraying no hint of her sentiments.

It was here she had once raised Amael.

That decision had not been arbitrary.

At that juncture, her intention was to anchor him within her sphere, intrinsically linked to her blood and the Falkrona lineage, rather than to Nihil's domain. She desired him to be tethered to something mortal, something terrestrial, something belonging to her plane of existence, as opposed to the glacial, sacred detachment of the Garden. Even then, prior to her feelings towards Nihil calcifying into the bitterness they now embodied, a current of caution always ran through her.

Wariness and a deep-seated distrust.

Not exclusively directed at Nihil, but encompassing all that originated from the Garden.

Everything that drew too near to Eden.

She had perceived Amael's true nature from the outset. She understood what forces would one day regard him not as a child, nor as a son, but as a vessel, a potentiality, a weapon, a future calamity ripe for subjugation. She recognized that if she did not establish boundaries promptly, others would impose them for her. Hence, she kept him close. She fostered his upbringing, shielding him as much as feasible from Nihil's influence, from Eden's reach, and from all hands that might seek to mold him into a form she vehemently opposed.

Her wish was for him to belong to himself before belonging to any other.

And yes, in a measure of selfishness, she desired him to belong to her.

Initially, she had harbored a hope that he might develop a rapport with the Falkrona children, his purported cousins, if one were compelled to categorize such a relationship, which was awkward at best. For a fleeting moment, she had envisioned him finding solace among them, some ordinary thread of kinship that might lighten his existence.

However, it became apparent quite rapidly that such simplicity was unattainable.

Amael had always been distinct. Exceptionally so. Children sensed it, adults harbored fears, and families, even those replete with love, seldom knew how to accommodate an individual who carried something ancient and perilous within their very essence. As he matured, the chasm only widened. Eventually, he ceased residing there altogether. Not with the Falkronas, and not on Nihil's side within the Garden either.

He chose his own path.

Belle comprehended the reasoning.

Naturally, she did.

If any entity understood the compulsion to stand apart from all and sundry who asserted a claim over you, it was she. She had never sought to infringe upon that autonomy, nor would she ever. Amael's freedom held immense significance for her. Surpassing pride. Exceeding comfort. Transcending her own self-serving desire to keep him near.

Still... she yearned for him.

The sentiment persisted, concealed beneath her composed exterior. At times, she wished she could simply relocate to Xenithia and reside with him. The vision surfaced more frequently than she cared to admit: Amael there, his laughter echoing with its characteristic ease, those two girls by his side, his beloved companions. Belle already considered them his wives, regardless of whether the world acknowledged that reality. She could visualize it with striking clarity: a tranquil existence, a home alive with warmth and chatter, her son secure within her sight.

But she understood the impossibility of such a life.

Her presence would inevitably attract scrutiny, attention, and consequently, potential danger.

And the last thing Belle desired was to transform Amael's contentment into a target.She maintained her distance, despite the sting it caused, allowing him the space to forge his life with the two women he adored. She resolved not to interfere in such matters, nor to become another burden holding him back, regardless of her deep desire to remain by his side. After casting one final glance over the Estate spread out below, Belle raised her hand and opened the message delivered by one of her father’s falcons. It had arrived later than she would have preferred. Her gaze swept swiftly over the contents, and her expression shifted only minimally. Horus had departed. It appeared Apophis had made an appearance somewhere. Belle silently refolded the message, her lips pressing into a firm, thin line. Apophis was counted among the Kalamity Gods. This fact alone was sufficient to explain her father’s sudden disappearance. If he had moved, then the situation was indeed dire. No one took the stirrings of a Kalamity God lightly. Such entities were not mere disasters in the conventional sense; they were ancient destruction given sentience, a kind of existence that absolutely could not be permitted to fully manifest in this world. She harbored the hope that they would vanquish that monstrous entity before it succeeded in slipping through completely. The world already bore far too many nightmares. Lucifer alone was more than enough to corrupt the future. The mere thought of confronting not only him but also the Primordial Evils was enough to fray even Belle’s typically frigid composure. There were simply too many ancient horrors still lurking in the shadows, too many sealed cataclysms pressing against the very fabric of creation. As this thought crossed her mind, she sensed a presence. Belle tilted her head up immediately, her silver eyes narrowing. Suspended in the sky directly above her, as though he had always occupied that space, was Michael. He hovered in the open air, sporting that same infuriating smirk. From the moment Belle laid eyes on it, she knew that whatever followed was not going to be pleasant. "What is it you want, Michael?" Belle inquired coolly. "You typically do not descend to these lower realms to sully your robes in the mortal world." Michael feigned offense, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. "Who do you take me for? I have a concern for this world. I visit here frequently to observe its current state." "Yes, naturally," Belle commented, rolling her eyes. "I’m quite sure that’s precisely why." Her tone lacked any hint of warmth, conveying only impatience. She had no inclination to entertain him, nor the patience for whatever stratagem he intended to initiate. "In any case," she stated, already beginning to turn away, "I am not in the disposition to indulge you today." Then, he spoke again. "Since when," Michael inquired casually, "has Amael been in league with Evil Gods?" Belle halted abruptly. The atmosphere surrounding her seemed to grow heavy. Slowly, she pivoted back, fixing him with a gaze so frigid it could have fractured stone. "What precisely did you just utter?" Michael's smile became more pronounced. "I posed a question to you, Belle. Your cherished son appears to be entangled with one of Lucifer's Generals. And not merely some insignificant subordinate, but one who potentially played a significant part in the Blood Moon War within Sancta Vedelia." "My son has absolutely no involvement with Sancta Vedelia," Belle retorted with a scoff. "Nor with that preposterous conflict. If you seek someone to assign blame, consult Merithra. This is her entanglement." Michael emitted a gentle chuckle. "How adeptly you deflect the issue." His eyes narrowed. "However, that does not alter the fundamental truth. The Vessel of Samael Eveningstar is keeping company with one of Lucifer's Generals." He tilted his head slightly. "How do you surmise Lady Raphiel would react to such information, I wonder?" Belle's countenance darkened further. She remained silent, but the clear warning conveyed in her gaze was unmistakable. Instantly, Michael's smile vanished. "It might be the opportune moment," he declared, his voice suddenly taking on an icy tone, "for the Vessel to be replaced once more." Belle's entire frame stiffened. "You would not dare!" The words escaped her lips with barely suppressed fury. "I would," Michael affirmed. "I hold the position of Supreme Commander of His Supremacy Eden’s armed forces. Should anything pose a threat to him, I shall eliminate it." His gaze bore into hers with merciless calm. "So tell me, Belle, where is your son at this precise moment? Still within Sancta Vedelia? Still involving himself in that war for reasons I have yet to ascertain?" For a brief interval, neither moved. Then, Michael bestowed upon her one final, glacial look before vanishing in a surge of golden luminescence. Belle remained motionless for only a second longer. Then, her teeth clenched. And she propelled herself through the sky. Directly towards Sancta Vedelia. She had harbored a premonition. Deep within, she had a sense this situation would escalate into a problem. Amael’s association with Sirius Anox had consistently been perilous. She had cautioned him about it repeatedly, urging him to sever that connection before it festered into something far worse. Had Amael been amenable, Sirius would have met his end long ago. Belle herself would have ensured it.

Amael's will was the sole factor allowing him to remain alive.

For reasons Belle could never fully comprehend, her son had developed an unexpected fondness for him.

However, the current circumstances were far from the same.

This time, mere rumors posed a lethal danger to Amael.

Allegations of betrayal, secret alliances, and an affinity for Lucifer's faction were not the kind of hushed gossip one could withstand indefinitely. This was especially true when bearing the name Samael, and with figures like Michael actively seeking a pretext.

Belle's gaze, sharp as polished silver, ignited with a frigid intensity.

Should Sirius Anox present any danger to Amael's existence, she would extinguish him without a second thought.