I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 447: [Event] [Semester-Exam At Vanadias] [35] Karma

Chapter 447: [Event] [Semester-Exam At Vanadias] [35] Karma

?

She didn't want to believe him-she had no reason to. And yet, some part of her already suspected something was wrong, something bigger than just the exam or Behemoth's actions. Amael had merely confirmed what she had feared all along.

"They obviously want you..." Amael said with a pained grunt. "Killing Bryelle-the one you care about the most-could trigger whatever trauma you've buried deep. They knew that if you broke, you'd fall right into their hands, doing whatever they wanted with Sancta Vedelia. The easiest way to control you... is to take her away."

Alvara's expression tightened. His words struck close to home, too close for her to dismiss.

She wanted to refute it but she couldn't.

She had been naive as expected.

Her mind turned to her elder brother-the one person she had trusted implicitly, the one she thought had control over the situation and yet, even he had failed to grasp what they wanted.

How had Amael, of all people, pieced it together?

"How do you know this?" she asked.

"Ah..." Amael sighed, wincing in pain as he tilted his head back, eyes momentarily closing. "That's my little secret. Now... what are you going to do?"

"What?" Alvara's eyes narrowed.

Amael met her gaze, his expression more serious now. "What are you going to do, Alvara Teraquin?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?" She snapped, already turning on her heel as if preparing to leave. "I'm going to save my sister."

Amael shook his head. "I'm not asking about that."

Alvara stopped in her tracks, her back still to him. She didn't respond, but he could feel her gaze, a sign that she was listening.

"Do you remember what I asked you back then, after you fought Cylien?"

Silence lingered between them.

Alvara's face remained impassive, but internally, she was thinking about his every words. Normally, she wouldn't waste time on such idle conversation, especially not with someone like Amael, someone she considered beneath her notice. She had always been distant, even with her own people, even with her family. And yet, he definitely seemed to know a lot of things.

"Do you want to be saved, Alvara?" Amael asked again.

"Hah?" Alvara's lips curled into a disdainful smirk, a laugh bubbling up from her chest. "Saved? Saved from what? Look at yourself you're barely alive. You're a wreck. And you think you can talk to me about saving anyone?"

Alvara struggled to grasp what was going through Amael's mind. What had he been talking about up until now? What was this nonsense about saving her?

She didn't need saving. Not from him. Not from anyone.

Ever since that painful day, Alvara had fought tooth and nail to survive, overcoming every obstacle in her path on her own. She had clawed her way to her current strength without so much as a hand extended in her direction. The idea of relying on someone, especially a Half- Human like Amael, who could betray her in an instant, was revolting to her.

"Save you from yourself," Amael's voice was calm, his amber eyes glimmering faintly in the dim light. The intensity behind his gaze caught Alvara off guard for just a moment. He was serious.

Alvara's lip curled in disdain, but she said nothing. Amael, however, wasn't finished.

"You know, I used to hate you, Alvara," he said, a faint, almost bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Alvara sneered, folding her arms across her chest. "I couldn't care less."

"I hated you because I knew what you were doing...what you had done," Amael continued, ignoring her taunt. "You-killing Halves, torturing Hybrids just for fun. And always with that sick, twisted grin on your face. Yeah, it scared the hell out of me back then. I think Ephera liked you though, what a twisted girl," Amael chuckled bitterly, shaking his head, speaking about things incomprehensible to Alvara. "Imagine what Bryelle would've thought of you, seeing you like that."

At the mention of that name, Alvara's face darkened. "Don't you dare say her name!"

But Amael pressed on, unfazed by her outburst. "Someone made me see things differently. Opened my eyes to my own hypocrisy."

Alvara narrowed her eyes. "Hypocrisy?"

Amael's mind wandered briefly to Myrcella, remembering the quiet strength in her words, how she had made him see the contradictions in his dislike for Alvara. She had made him realize that he wasn't as different from Alvara as he wanted to believe. He owed her for that painful but valuable insight.

He let out a small sigh, his voice softening. "Yeah... I realize now that you've suffered. More than I probably know. You've suffered at the hands of Halves like me, by Hybrids...humans especially."

Alvara's fists clenched tightly at her sides, the rage bubbling beneath her skin like molten lava, threatening to erupt. The memories-the wounds-he spoke of, even indirectly, stirred a deep and violent fury within her. The pain, the injustice...all of it. And here was Amael, speaking as if he understood, as if he could grasp even a fraction of what she had endured. Every part of her wanting to strike him down. She didn't need his pity. She didn't need anyone's pity.

"It must have been painful," Amael murmured almost to himself. "I guess it makes sense, the way you are. The way you lash out...it's like you're taking all that pain you've been carrying and hurling it back at the world."

Alvara's breath quickened, her body trembling-not with fear but with the sheer force of the rage swelling inside her. She hated everything he was saying. She hated that he was speaking to her as if he knew her. As if he could understand her suffering. As if he had any right to speak

of her pain aloud.

"I know that feeling..."

The words slipped from his lips, almost inaudible, as Amael-no, Nyr-allowed the flood of memories to wash over him.

His childhood back on Earth had been filled with moments of pain and regret, moments he couldn't escape even now, no matter how many worlds separated him from that time. Nyr's thoughts drifted to a time when everything seemed simpler, yet somehow more unbearable. He recalled a particular time in elementary school, a period that haunted him more than any other. Back then, he had been a child, ignorant but popular-only popular because of the stunts he'd pull in class. He was the class clown, always seeking attention, feeding off the laughter of his peers. Maybe it was that deep-rooted desire to be seen, to be acknowledged, even as a child, that drove him to behave the way he did.

But what he did to her...

That single mistake loomed large in his mind. He could still see her face, that little girl- vulnerable, already suffering. He had targeted her, singled her out, not because he hated her, but because he knew it would make the class laugh. He thought he was invincible, the center of attention, the star of his own twisted little show. But the truth was, it was unforgivable. Many would have excused him. 'You were just a child,' they might say, offering platitudes about how children make mistakes. But for Nyr, there was no excuse. What he had done was cruel, and no amount of time could wash away that guilt. He had bullied someone already struggling, and that was a sin he couldn't forget-perhaps didn't want to forget.

Yes, maybe it was stupid to feel this guilty all these years until even becoming asocial. That girl probably's living her best life currently on Earth.

But for Nyr, maybe that's why he believed everything that followed in his life was simply karma coming back to claim its due.

The pain, the bullying, the isolation-middle school, high school, even college-it was as if the universe was balancing the scales for that one mistake. He thought of the years where he was no longer the one laughing, no longer the center of attention. Instead, he had become the victim, paying for his past a hundredfold.

But this was too much. The cruelty of the karma if it was the culprit seemed boundless. Every time life gave him something, it was quick to take it away. It felt like the world was keeping a tab, demanding payment in suffering for any small moment of happiness. Every bit of joy had a cost, and it wasn't a fair trade. He was always left paying more than what he had

been given.

And then, he became Edward. Or maybe Edward became him-he wasn't sure anymore. The lines between them blurred so much it didn't matter. He had been pulled into a new life, a new identity, but the karma hadn't changed its cruel ways. If anything, it seemed like karma had only gotten stronger, hunting him without mercy.

His adopted mother, Oryanna-gone. His father, his brother, Elona-one by one, they were all taken from him. And it wasn't just the people he lost. Every new revelation, every hidden truth that surfaced, felt like unbearable pain. Even now, it wasn't over.

He was just a vessel, wasn't he? That's all he had ever been. His life had never truly belonged

to him—it was merely borrowed, filled with the will of others, of higher beings, like Gladys had told him. He could never escape it. No matter how hard he fought, no matter how much he tried to carve out something for himself, he was always being steered by forces beyond his

control.

He glanced at Alvara, and a strange understanding settled over him. What they had endured wasn't the same, not by a long shot. But their conclusions, their thoughts-they were eerily similar. They were both trapped, not by chains, but by the circumstances of their lives, by the relentless cruelty of fate.

Nyr couldn't blame her for what she had become. Who was he to judge? He had no right to point fingers, no right to condemn her choices. Not when he, too, had been pulled along by forces he couldn't resist. Alvara, like him, was simply trying to survive in a world that seemed

determined to break her.

But now, at last, he could say it.

Edward—a hint of a smile tugging at his lips-looked at Alvara. The memories of his past,

both on Earth and in this world, had stirred something deep within him. For a brief moment, the weight of those memories overwhelmed him, and as if his body responded to that strain, a single tear of blood slipped from his left eye, slowly trailing down his cheek.

Alvara stood frozen, clearly dumbfounded by the sight.

"I don't want you to die, Alvara."