I Am The Game's Villain

I let out a sharp groan, irritation prickling beneath my skin as I pushed myself upright. My ribs still ached from the impact. Off to my right, Deric was already on his feet, brushing dust off his pants with an obnoxious grin plastered across his face.

"Damn, that was a hell of a punch," he laughed, rolling his shoulder like he'd just finished a friendly sparring match and not a scuffle that nearly broke bones.

My gaze slid past him, landing coldly on the bastard responsible.

Earth.

He stood there, arms crossed, his expression full of amusement.

"You're pretty weak for a man," he said with a cocky smirk that seemed more targeted toward me than Deric.

I couldn't believe it. This was the guy who killed Ephera and Shayna? It wasn't even anger I felt anymore—it was embarrassment. Not for me. For them. That someone like him could end them….

Did he just need attention that badly?

"If you're that eager to fight, take it outside," I muttered, barely containing my disdain. "That's where dogs scrap."

Apparently, that touched a nerve. Deric lunged forward with a burst of speed, his leg cutting through the air in a wide arc aimed at my side.

I caught his leg just before it connected, gripping his ankle firmly in my hand. My eyes didn't even flicker.

"What the hell are you doing?" I said, glancing at Deric, who still hadn't wiped that stupid grin off his face.

"Who are you calling a dog?" He asked with a dumb smile.

"Sorry. I saw the ears and heard you laugh. Thought you were a dog-man or something."

Deric barked out a laugh as a pulse of prana surged violently from him.

"I said cut the shit!"

-BAM!

Rodolf appeared out of nowhere, his fist slamming square into Earth's face. Earth managed to raise his arm in time to block, but the blow still sent him flying across the room, crashing into the door with a loud, splintering thud.

Rodolf shook out his fist with a grimace. "Damn it. Why do I always end up babysitting you idiots?" He muttered.

"I'd suggest just get their asses out of the castle for a few days," I said, brushing myself off and fixing my clothes. "Less hassle for everyone."

"Like hell I can do that!" Rodolf snapped, throwing his arms up. "You think I wouldn't have done that already if I could?"

At least he was honest.

Troy stepped forward, his brow furrowed as he looked between us. "Who the hell is that guy?" He asked, jerking his chin toward Earth.

"Him?" Earth turned with a smirk, casually brushing a lock of hair from his face. "That's the infamous traitor of Sancta Vedelia. You've all heard the stories, right?"

Troy's expression changed immediately. "Oh…" He murmured, realization dawning in his eyes.

"Alright, that's enough," Rodolf cut in, throwing a look at both of them before his gaze landed on me with something close to exhaustion. "The traitor needs rest. Stop breaking everything and let the man eat."

I could tell he was trying to de-escalate before things got worse.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, already turning away. I strode toward the exit without looking back. "And get yourself ready—we're bringing down that bastard."

Rodolf gave a short nod. He knew exactly who I meant.

There wasn't time to waste.

[<You're starting to get a little less prickly about these insults, Edward.>]

"More like I just don't give a damn anymore about what people think of me," I shrugged.

[<Right? Isn't that what you should've done from the start? Back on Earth, you were like that until the very end, remember?>]

Yeah… back then, I did still care. But things shifted when Ephera walked into my life. Ever since then, I started... changing. Never let the opinions of others shape how you act. That was what Ephera told me.

"Ugh…" I groaned softly, a dull ache piercing behind my eyes as I tried to remember… something. A flash, maybe. A memory? But it slipped through my grasp like mist. I shook my head.

I kept walking through the quiet corridor until something made me stop in my tracks.

A scent—faint but clear. Rich, familiar, iron-tinged… blood. Elizabeth's blood. I could smell it in the air. How the hell did I even recognize it?

Yeah… better not linger on that awkward realization.

I glanced to my left toward the balcony and saw her—Elizabeth. Standing alone, she was leaning on the railing, lost in thought.

I almost kept walking. Almost.

But Layla's words echoed in my mind, making my steps falter. With a sigh, I turned and walked toward the glass doors. I slid one open and stepped out onto the balcony.

She didn't look at me—probably already sensed me coming. Or maybe… she smelled the blood on me too. We were both monsters in our own way, weren't we?

"What are you doing here, Amael?" Elizabeth said without turning. "I thought you wanted to dissolve our engagement. That you wanted distance—for both of our sakes."

So… we were back to Amael again.

How was I even supposed to respond to that?

"I did say that," I replied, stepping beside her. "But was I wrong about what we were?"

"If you're going to launch into another speech about our relationship," she said, eyes still fixed on the horizon, "I'm afraid I don't have the mental energy for it tonight."

"No speech," I promised. "Just… wanted to talk."

A beat passed in silence, filled only by the gentle breeze that teased at her black hair.

"Is she gone?" Elizabeth asked after.

"Layla? Yeah. She left the day after," I said, nodding.

"You chose an excellent first wife."

I blinked. "You? Complimenting Layla? That's unexpected after the way you two used to glare daggers at each other."

"I'm not really someone bearing grudge over something so little," Elizabeth replied.

We stood there for a while, wrapped in a rare and fragile quiet.

Then I spoke again—carefully, almost hesitantly. "I heard… about what your grandfather did. To you and Selene. To your mother before you were even born."

She didn't respond. Not immediately. Her silence wasn't a surprise—it was confirmation.

So she knew.

She had known all along.

"Aren't you angry about what he did to you?" I asked.

Elizabeth didn't answer right away. Her gaze drifted somewhere distant, unfocused.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" I repeated in disbelief. "He's the reason you—"

"The reason I'm twisted? The reason I have these 'monstrous' instincts?" Her crimson eyes narrowed. "Tell me, do you see me as a monster too?"

"When did I ever say that?"

"You didn't have to." She took a slow step forward. "Everything was fine when you saw me as that gentle, soft-spoken girl. Kind. Meek. But the moment you caught a glimpse of who I really am—or at least a part of me—you started pulling away. You looked at me differently. Less like someone you cared about and more like something dangerous. Like something broken." She tilted her head slightly. "So I have to wonder—did you just decide I wasn't worth the trouble anymore?"

"Elizabeth—"

"You're scared of me," she continued. "You're afraid of what I could do. Of what I might become. You don't want someone like me because deep down, you're not sure you could stop me if things went wrong. And you don't want to carry the weight of that possibility."

"Yes," I said quietly.

She went still.

"You may be right," I admitted. "I thought I understood you in the beginning. You were… simpler, easier to be around. But then things changed. You changed. And I—I'm still trying to make sense of it. Of you."

"Trying to understand me?" She said, with a faint, almost amused smile.

"Yeah. So maybe you can help me out here—tell me this. The person I met earlier this year… who was she? And who am I speaking to right now?"

She looked at me for a long moment, then let out a soft, humorless laugh.

"I wish I could tell you," she said. "But the truth is, I've been trying to answer that question myself. The day my mother gave birth to us… I never really began."

"What do you mean?"

"I died," she said simply. "Or maybe I was never born at all. Selene lived. I didn't. I was stillborn."

I stared at her in shock. "W—What?"

"But then, somehow… I was brought back. It wasn't natural. The Vampire Witch's blood—hers was the only reason I opened my eyes. A miracle, they called it. But from the very start, every day since has felt like a curse. I dream of things I've never seen. I remember moments that shouldn't belong to me. Visions of blood. Hunger. This thirst for something—someone. For meaning. And the only constant in all those dreams is…that I wasn't supposed to be here."

"..."

"I've questioned my existence more times than I can count," she whispered. "And every time I come back to the same conclusion: I died before I could even live. And whatever this is now… this second chance—it shouldn't have happened. So why did it?"

Elizabeth's fingers curled tightly around the cold iron railing.

"Maybe there was a reason. A purpose behind it all. But no matter how hard I searched… I couldn't find it. Selene was the Vessel—the chosen one. And me? I was just the afterthought. The spare. A body crafted for the Vessel's sake." She turned her eyes to mine. "Was that supposed to be my fate? Is that all I was ever meant to be? If not that… then what else was I missing?"

"You thought it was me?" I asked quietly.

"At first, I believed it was Connor. That maybe he was the one I was meant to protect, to exist for. But he died. Then I met you, and I thought… maybe it was you. But now?" Her lips curled into a tired smile. "I think I was wrong from the beginning."

"The truth is—my House always had one clear plan for me. To shape me into a weapon. A living embodiment of power and destruction, forged in blood and legacy. And it worked. Somewhere along the way, I even started enjoying it. Not the killing itself, maybe, but the purpose it gave me. It made the pain quieter."

Something in her words struck too close to me. The parallels between us, between her existence as a forged weapon and mine as the so-called Vessel of Samael, made me feeling empathy.

"Who gives a damn about purpose and meaning anyway?"

She blinked, surprised by the force behind my voice.

"I don't believe anyone is born with some grand design," I continued, reaching out and gently wrapping my fingers around her pale hand. Her skin was cold, but I held it firmly, grounding both of us. "We decide our own meaning. We create our purpose. No god, ancestor, or House gets to dictate what we are. Only we do."

Yeah. Screw any twisted entity that thinks they can script someone's fate before they've even taken their first breath.

"I don't care what your connection to the Vampire Witch is," I said, meeting her gaze seriously. "It doesn't matter. And your grandfather? His idiotic dream of turning you into a weapon for his damned House? That ends with you. He has no claim over you—nobody does, except you."

For a moment, Elizabeth didn't respond. Her crimson eyes flickered with a mix of emotion she couldn't express. She parted her lips slightly, as if about to speak.

"But… if you still feel like you need something—someone—to give your life meaning… if that's what you truly want to feel alive, then maybe I can be that exception for—"

"Hey! What the hell are you doing up there?!"

The sudden shout shattered the moment like glass against stone. My expression twisted in irritation as I turned to see Rodolf standing far below, in the castle courtyard, waving his arms like a cranky uncle crashing a first date.

He was scowling up at us before he smirked seeing it was Elizabeth with me.

That bastard cut me off mid-speech!

I was actually doing well for once! The mood was right, the timing perfect—everything was lining up—and this loud bastard just stomped all over.

"Darling," Elizabeth whispered.

My head snapped back toward her. "Y–Yeah?"

And before I could say another word, her lips pressed gently against mine.

It was soft. Brief.

But there was emotion in that kiss—not desperation or need, but quiet gratitude. A warmth that made time slow down just for us.

When she pulled away, I saw it.

Just a glimpse of the real Elizabeth.

"Thank you," she whispered, and this time her smile wasn't haunted. It wasn't fake, polite or exaggerated.

It was real.

The most genuine expression I had ever seen on her face.

And the most beautiful one.