I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 409  Alvara's Madness [1]

"What's happening?" Roda asked, her voice tinged with confusion as she scanned the faces around her.

Like her, several students were puzzled, their eyes darting between Cylien and Alvara. The sudden disappearance of Alvara's plants seemed to signal Cylien's victory, didn't it? Yet, the atmosphere in the arena was anything but celebratory.

Sephira, who should have been elated, looked as if she might faint at any moment, her face drained of all color. Even Dentiel Elaryon, usually composed, wore a deeply troubled expression.

"I—I think we should stop the fight!" Celeste's voice broke the tense silence.

"Are you stupid?" Cyril's sharp retort made her spin around to face him. A twisted smile spread across his lips, his crimson eyes glowing with a disturbing excitement. "It's finally getting interesting, and you want to stop it?"

Cyril's gaze was fixated on Alvara's slumped figure, the moment she had let go of her umbrella sparking a newfound thrill in him. Until now, he had been indifferent, but this shift in Alvara's demeanor seemed to have ignited his morbid curiosity.

Celeste, disregarding Cyril's sadistic glee, tried to reach out to Gamir, hoping he would intervene. But Gamir's focus was locked onto Alvara.

"Why are you so tense, Senior?" Roda turned to Victor, noticing his unease. His expression mirrored that of the others who seemed to understand something.

Roda was only a first-year student, her knowledge of Alvara was clearly limited to what she had overheard. Alvara was a genius that much, everyone knew. Allen, among many others, spoke of his sister with a reverence that bordered on worship. To the people of the Teraquins Kingdom, Alvara was practically a living Goddess.

"It's Alvara," Victor murmured, his voice barely audible. "I've rarely seen her like this… The last time was during her fight with Elizabeth last year…" His gaze shifted to Elizabeth, who was watching Alvara with an unreadable expression.

"Senior Elizabeth and Senior Alvara fought last year? Who won?" Roda asked, utterly curious.

"No one," Amelia replied with an awkward smile. "If they had continued, one of them would have surely died. Connor stopped them at the last moment."

"You mean Senior Amael's older brother?" Roda asked, glancing at Edward, who stood nearby, his brow furrowed as he watched the match unfold.

"Yes," Amelia confirmed, nodding. "It was around that time that Elizabeth's condition worsened, and Connor started spending more time with her. He helped her a lot, if I remember correctly, right?" She looked to Victor for confirmation, who nodded before turning to Selene.

"Yes… he helped my sister," Selene nodded. "He tried to help Alvara too, but…" She shook her head slowly. "She didn't even let him approach him. She's beyond redemption."

'Beyond redemption huh? Can't argue if even Selene says that?' Edward thought.

Cylien quickly sprang to her feet. The match was far from over—she could feel it in the air, the tension thickening around her. The memory of Alvara's fight with Elizabeth lingered, but this was different. This Alvara was different.

Suddenly, a golden aura began to radiate from Alvara's body, pulsing with a strange intensity. Her gaze briefly flickered to the umbrella lying on the ground before she turned on her heels, her posture rigid and controlled.

The pristine white blouse and skirt she wore, tailored perfectly to her form, were now tarnished with dirt and blood. Her once-immaculate arm gloves were similarly marred. But the most striking change was in her eyes—where once they had been a vivid greenish-yellow, they now glowed with an eerie gold light. Despite the brightness, her eyes held no emotion, just an empty, unsettling calm.

Alvara raised a hand before her, and the ring on her finger gleamed with a golden light. The air around her seemed to ripple as something began to materialize. In moments, it enlarged and solidified into a long, beautiful sword. Its blade shimmered with silver and gold hues, and the hilt was intricately wrapped with delicate, living plants. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"A sword? Since when could Senior Alvara use a sword?" Roda asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Like many others, Roda had never seen Alvara wield a sword. The idea seemed almost absurd to her.

"Since always," Elizabeth replied, her crimson eyes locked onto Alvara's blade with a knowing look. "Alvara has never been one to fight from a distance or remain stationary. She has always been strongest with a sword in hand."

"But why?" Roda asked, still confused.

"It's obvious," Elizabeth explained. "Alvara hates getting close to people, even in combat. The proximity of a close fight repulses her, even if it's just her sword doing the work. So, she began using her plants to keep herself at a distance, fighting from afar where she wouldn't have to feel anyone's breath on her skin."

"Elizabeth is right," Celeste murmured, concerned as she watched Cylien. "Alvara has always been a genius with a sword…"

"She only brings it out in rare cases," Elizabeth continued, her tone somber. "Like when she fought me last year. That's why… I think it's over now." Her words carried a finality that sent a chill through Roda.

Roda's gaze snapped back to Alvara, who was now lowering her sword. In an instant, Alvara vanished from her spot, her speed leaving a gust of wind in her wake.

Cylien's instincts screamed at her to move, and she dodged aside, but—

"A-Aghhh!" A sharp, searing pain erupted on her neck, forcing a cry of agony from her lips.

Her hand flew to the wound, and when she pulled it back, fresh blood stained her fingers. There was no time to think, no time to react—Alvara was already upon her, her sword flashing as she thrust it towards Cylien once more.

Cylien barely managed to bring up her Zephyr Blade in time, deflecting the attack. Alvara's blade tilted to the side, but she shifted her grip with practiced ease, turning the sword horizontally and swinging it towards Cylien's waist with lethal precision.

"What?!" Cylien gasped, her eyes widening as Alvara's sword struck her stomach with a bizarre and unexpected movement. The force of the blow sent her hurtling across the arena, her body crashing into the stone wall with a sickening thud. Blood spurted from her mouth as the strain on her body became unbearable, every nerve screaming in agony.

"Stand," Alvara said coldly.

Before Cylien could even process the pain, Alvara was already in front of her, moving with terrifying speed, carried by the howling wind. -BAM!

Alvara delivered a brutal front kick to Cylien's leg, the impact so powerful it shattered the wall behind her, causing sections of the seating area to crumble. Cylien let out a scream of agony as her body was crushed under the weight of Alvara's overwhelming prana.

With her gaze cast downward, Alvara stomped on Cylien's leg, a twisted smile curling on her lips, though her eyes remained filled with disdain. "Even your voice is disgusting to hear. It reminds me of that little whore, Aerin."

Cylien's eyes flared with a sudden surge of anger, her mana exploding from her body in a desperate attempt to fight back but there was something gold covering Alvara's body parrying everything.

"Useless," Alvara sneered.

-BAM!

Cylien's scream was muffled as Alvara's sword pierced through her thigh, the blade driving deep into her flesh. Blood gushed from the wound, and Cylien choked on the pain, her body trembling.

Alvara wiped the blood from her own cheek with a look of utter contempt. "How dare you make me bleed. A single drop of my blood is worth more than all the filthy sub-races of this world combined."

Cylien's breath came in ragged gasps as she struggled against the excruciating pain. "Ughhhn!"

Alvara clicked her tongue in disgust as she stepped back, eyeing her now-bloodstained shoes. "I even sullied my shoes."

Despite the unbearable pain, Cylien forced herself to stand, using her sword as an anchor to keep from collapsing. Her legs shook violently, but she remained defiant, her eyes locked onto Alvara.

"You have awakened, yet you seem uglier than ever, Cylien, hah?" Alvara laughed mockingly, pointing her sword at Cylien. "I will show you a realm of strength that sub-elves like you could only dream of reaching. I am a Goddess compared to you. Beg me and plead, and I might just spare your worthless life."

"It's... not over!" Cylien gritted her teeth, grasping her sword with both hands as she faced Alvara head-on.

"Hah?" Alvara arched an eyebrow, her face twisting in revulsion at Cylien's stubborn defiance.

A torrent of mana began to swirl around Alvara, taking on a golden hue that seemed almost divine in its intensity.

"W-What's happening?" Roda's voice quivered with fear as she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"It's Alvara's Unique Bloodline," Elizabeth explained.

"Unique bloodline?" Roda echoed, struggling to comprehend.

"Alvara, like all Teraquins, inherited the Bloodline of Freyja, their Goddess," Elizabeth continued, her eyes fixed on the terrifying scene unfolding before them. "But Alvara was given more than just that at birth. Freyja bestowed upon her a direct bloodline—her own blood."

"She's basically a Half-Goddess," Elizabeth added, closing her eyes as if to shut out the inevitable.

"Professor! Stop the match!" Victor shouted urgently, knowing all too well what was about to happen.

Gamir hesitated, clearly torn, but he took a step forward. "The match is over, Alvara—"

"Shut your disgusting voice," Alvara cut him off, raising her free hand toward Gamir.

-BOOM!

Gamir's body was flung across the arena, slamming into the wall with bone-crushing force. The spectators watched in horror as thorny vines sprouted out and wrapped around his limbs, drawing blood and rendering him unconscious.

"Alvara!" Rodolf leaped into the arena. "Release her now."

"Oh my, of course," Alvara giggled, her voice laced with a sickening sweetness. "I will release her from her weak existence."

-BOOOOOOM!