I Am The Game's Villain - Chapter 618 618: Retribution

When I opened my eyes, I didn’t find myself back in the familiar warmth of my room, nor was I greeted by the faces of Vina or Roda. No—what awaited me was something far stranger, far darker.

All around me was silence and shadow. I floated—or perhaps drifted—within an endless sea of grey. The only thing that broke the monotony of the void was a faint glimmer of light glowing in the distance. Drawn to it like a moth, I focused on it, and as the light grew sharper, I realized it wasn’t just a light. It was a window. No, a projection. A fragile shimmer showing two familiar perspectives—Annabelle’s and Samara’s.

Even here, wherever ‘here’ was, our bond hadn’t severed. The contract between us still lingered, thin but unbroken. Until their resurrection was complete, we were still tied together. And through that fragile link, I could feel them.

Feel them coming back.

It’s hard to describe what resurrection feels like—not my own, but someone else’s. But through the connection, I sensed it vividly. Their souls were stirring, weaving themselves into flesh and life. Not quite there yet, but close. So close. The strange part was how I could feel the bond loosening gradually. It wasn’t painful—it was reassuring. They were becoming whole. Independent.

And that gave me peace.

Whatever was waiting for me at the end of this month—whatever fate awaited me—at least I knew one thing: Annabelle and Samara would be safe.

As I watched the shimmering window, I suddenly noticed a figure appear beside it. Freyja.

She came and went to check on them, it seemed. Checking on them in intervals. Watching over their process. Both Annabelle and Samara were now encased in what could only be described as golden crystal cocoons—glowing, radiant, and nestled within the Tree of Ymir. The tree itself had grown massive, its roots stretching deeper. Since its manifestation, Freyja had taken it upon herself to ensure its safety. She even built a separate structure—a vast sanctum behind the royal palace—to house and protect it. Entry was forbidden to all but her.

At least, that’s what I had assumed.

My assumption shattered when the great door creaked open and a figure strolled in with all the grace and arrogance in the world: Alvara.

She stepped in as if the room belonged to her, her umbrella lazily twirling in one hand.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to enter this place, Princess of Teraquin,” Freyja said without even bothering to turn around.

Alvara arched an eyebrow and gave a small, amused smile. “I wasn’t aware I needed your permission for something so trivial,” she said with an exaggerated shrug.

“That’s not for you to decide,” Freyja replied “This is the Core of the Tree of Ymir. And this isn’t the first time you’ve trespassed here.”

“Is that your privilege, then? What was your title again? Priestess of the Tree?”

Freyja finally turned to face her. “That—and the current Queen of the kingdom you’re staying in.”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Alvara spoke, twirling her umbrella lazily between her fingers, “Edward is the Guardian of the Tree. That alone gives me every right to be here.”

Freyja’s golden eyes shifted, locking onto Alvara amused. “I always wondered what could possibly compel you to step foot in a land you’ve openly scorned. Who would’ve thought it was for love… and not just any love—for a Human. No, a Half-Human, no less.”

“…” Alvara didn’t flinch. Her expression remained cool and impassive.

A faint sneer tugged at the corner of Freyja’s lips. “So it’s true, then. You, who share my bloodline and my power, have fallen for this man. I can’t help but wonder—what did you see in him?”

There was the slightest twitch of Alvara’s brow. Maybe confusion. Maybe irritation. She seemed puzzled by the mention of their shared bloodline but quickly composed herself.

“I have no intention of discussing such juvenile topics with a glorified political ornament,” she replied.

Freyja laughed—lightly, humorlessly. “Political ornament? Now that’s a creative insult. Pray tell, how exactly am I a political tool?”

Alvara arched her thin brow. “Aren’t you Edward’s political tool? His well-placed Priestess Queen? Or did I misunderstand your role in Utopia’s little theater?”

“And what makes you so sure it isn’t the other way around?” Freyja countered. “Do you think I married him simply to stand beside him and look divine? Perhaps it was I who needed a tool to ensure Utopia’s protection and for something else.”

Alvara scoffed quietly. “Frankly, I couldn’t care less about your reasons for marrying him. What I do know,” she said, stepping closer and lowering her umbrella with a graceful pointed gesture, “is that my Edward will always choose me over you.”

Her tone sharpened slightly as she said that with a haughty smile.

“So, if I were you, I’d choose my words—and my attitude—very carefully.”

With that, she spun on her heel and walked away, her umbrella now resting over her shoulder like a sword she’d already drawn and didn’t need to use.

Freyja stood still, her face unreadable. But even without a change in expression, I could sense the faint ripple of emotion beneath her calmness. Annoyance, perhaps. Or something closer to wounded pride. Not that she would ever admit it—especially not in front of Alvara.

After all, Alvara wasn’t just another noblewoman. She was more than that—technically something like a blood sister to Freyja. A divine peer. And maybe that made the tension between them all the more bitter.

Watching their exchange, I couldn’t help but smile. I’d expected frost, maybe friction. But this? This was fireworks. These two didn’t merely dislike each other—they seemed to simmer with barely restrained loathing. Especially Alvara.

Freyja, I think, had outgrown things like hatred. As a goddess, her emotions were probably more distant, cooler. But Alvara? She wore her disdain like perfume. Subtle, pervasive, and impossible to ignore.

And maybe… just maybe… it was more than disdain. Maybe it was jealousy.

Could it be she resented the fact that Freyja had been married to me before her and that I was connected to her through our Guardian-Priestess relationship? That would be—honestly?—kind of adorable.

I let out a long breath and shook my head, trying to clear the lingering emotions from the previous encounter. With no real destination in mind, I turned and began to walk away.

But I didn’t get far.

Suddenly, something shifted in my vision. The space in front of me rippled—not physically, but in a way that made my surroundings feel like a mirage. Two distinct spaces appeared before me like doorways stitched into the fabric of existence. I recognized them immediately.

These were the domains of my Legacies.

One of them shimmered with the soft light of an endless prairie—an almost divine glow warmed the green grass. Peaceful. Safe.

The other… was a void.

A gaping space cloaked in shadows so thick they seemed to bleed into the world around it. The moment I laid eyes on it, I recognized it immediately.

Th𝙞𝗌 𝒸h𝗮p𝐭𝑒r ɪ𝕤 p𝘰𝖘𝖙𝘦Ԁ b𝑦 𝒦𝘪†𝖾𝘯ℴѵє𝑙

I could’ve walked away.

Hell, every rational part of me wanted to turn back. It would’ve been easy. Comforting, even. But something rooted my feet to the ground—and then moved them forward.

Toward the dark.

The moment I drew near, that same scent hit me—sharp, acrid, clinging to the air like rotting petals and burnt ash. The stench of death. And with it came the overwhelming emptiness I remembered all too well.

The sensation was near-identical to the first time I’d ever set foot here. Except this time, I wasn’t dropped into it by accident.

This time, I was choosing to walk into it.

Despite the instinctive panic blooming beneath my skin—despite my body practically screaming at me to stop—I pressed on.Two years ago, I’d been dragged into this place without warning. But now I entered it knowing full well what waited for me.

I clenched my fists, summoned whatever courage I had left, and stepped forward.

The darkness enveloped me like water rushing into my lungs—and just like that, I was submerged again. I landed with a soft splash on the black lake, the impact sending ripples out across its glassy surface.

It was exactly as I remembered.

Pitch-black water stretched out endlessly around me with corpses, still and silent. Above, a sky choked with shadow loomed overhead, dotted with pale stars that blinked faintly like dying embers. A cold, dense pressure wrapped around my chest, clinging to my ribs and making each breath shallow and labored.

I began to walk.

I scanned the horizon, and it didn’t take long before I saw her.

She was there.

Standing perfectly still not too far away, like a dark statue carved into the scenery. Her long pitch-black hair spilled like ink into the lake, trailing behind her like an oil slick. The hem of her black gown melted into the water, giving her the appearance of being part of it—grown out of the shadows rather than standing in them.

Her head was tilted slightly upward, gaze fixed on the dark sky above us.

There was something unsettling about the way she stood there, unblinking, unmoving, almost as if she had been frozen in time. Even though I couldn’t see her face clearly, there was no way I could mistake her.

I hesitated.

No—I froze.

Every cell in my body was begging me to turn around and leave. My legs trembled slightly, as though remembering the last time I had been in her presence. It had been two whole years. Two years of silence. Two years of me deliberately avoiding her, burying her existence deep in the back of my mind like a bad dream I refused to revisit.

And truth be told, I hadn’t wanted to see her again. Not after our first meeting. Certainly not after our second.

Even Cleenah and Nevia had warned me—sternly—not to approach her. They hadn’t explained why in detail, but their advice had been firm: stay away.

And yet… here I was.

I was certain she had noticed me the moment I crossed the threshold of her domain. And yet, she did not turn. She remained still, her head tilted skyward.

I stopped walking when I was barely a meter behind her.

That was as far as I could go.

Any closer and something inside me warned I’d cross a line I wasn’t ready to face. The silence stretched long broken only by the subtle ripples of the lake around us.

Then, without moving, she spoke.

“Dost thou recall… Samael?”

Her voice was emotionless, calm, stripped of all inflection. And yet, despite its monotone, there was something beneath the surface—an echo of longing, maybe even love. An affection so ancient it didn’t need warmth to be real.

My lips parted, as if to reply, but I said nothing. Words felt too fragile here.

She continued, unbothered by my silence.

“Upon the eve of that hallowed night, thou didst vow to me a seat beside thee upon the Silver Throne. The firmament above shone with such beauty—the stars themselves whispered their assent. Truly, we were destined to become Astra and Altara incarnate, a union eternal and divine…”

I couldn’t understand what she meant at all.

“I… I’m not Samael,” I said at last, the words clumsy and human in comparison to hers.

A subtle tilt of her head followed.

“Mine own Samael…why… why didst thou forsake me?”

I wasn’t even sure she was speaking to me anymore. Maybe I never was the subject of her words to begin with.

Still, I said nothing more.

I simply watched her.

This woman—this being—she wasn’t just powerful. She was something else entirely. A Goddess. That much was undeniable. And standing before her now, I was reminded with absolute clarity just how far removed I was from such divinity. Cleenah, too, was beyond human… but familiarity had softened that divide between us. I had seen her smile, heard her laugh.

But Nemes was something else.

And I—I was just a mortal caught in their quarrel.

“I shall never forgive them. Retribution shall be wrought.”

She spoke again.

“Mine retribution will drape the stars in crimson. And we—thou and I—shall ascend. We shall reclaim the Silver Throne, besmeared with the blood of Heaven itself, my beloved… my Evening Star.”

I took a breath that didn’t come easy.

“So… is that it?” I asked quietly. “You’re trying to take revenge and bring back your Samael through me?”

There was a long pause.

Then, slowly Nemes turned.

She faced me fully now.

Even at this distance, I couldn’t see her eyes. The blindfold—obsidian black—clung to her concealing whatever lay beneath. And yet… I felt them. Her gaze pressed against my skin.

She didn’t speak.

And I didn’t move.

I simply stared—at her face.

“Are you… Ephera?”

I didn’t know why I asked that.

She looked nothing like Ephera—her presence was older, colder, more ancient than anything I’d ever felt from her. And yet… something in the way she spoke, it brought a familiarity I couldn’t place.

Was it possible?

Could she have been Ephera, somehow, all this time—right there, hidden inside me?

No.

What was I even thinking?

She couldn’t be Ephera. That was impossible.

And yet, I couldn’t tear the thought from my mind.

Nemes stepped forward and then she raised her hands and gently cupped my cheeks.

It was almost… tender.

The gesture itself, so eerily reminiscent of Ephera, made my breath froze. But when I met her gaze—though her eyes were hidden—I saw nothing of Ephera in the way she looked at me. Nothing of her warmth.

My body trembled at her touch. My instincts screamed to step back, to avert my eyes, to break free from something I couldn’t comprehend.

“Thou art destined to become the most perfect Samael,” she whispered.

“….”

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Of course.

What else did I expect?

Everyone—whether from Eden, or any other side—they all saw the same thing when they looked at me. A vessel. A path. A key. A means for their ends.

Never myself.

Just a role I never asked for.

“What ‘perfect’? I have no intention of becoming Samael,” I said.. “Leave my body. Find someone else to carry out your wishes, or whatever madness you’re chasing.”

For the first time, Nemes smiled.

It was a small thing—barely a shift in her lips but clearly a smile.

“Dost thou truly believe that Wrath, Samael, and the vessel thou art, are why I chose thee? Do thou truly think Harivel and I were drawn to thee for that alone?”

“What…?”

Her fingers tightened slightly around my face—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me how little control I had here.

Her voice dropped and lips twisted further upwardly.

“Thou art of darker intent than Samael himself… thou art the very embodiment of—”

“…!”

But before she could finish, the world tore away and a sudden force yanked me backward. In the end I was unable to hear the end of her words.