I Am The Game's Villain-Chapter 529: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [68] Glimpse Of The End

"Are you sure about this?!"

In the heart of the Olphean Kingdom, deep within the grand council room of the royal castle, Christina shot to her feet.

The royal messenger, clad in the kingdom’s emblematic armor, bowed his head respectfully as he nodded. "Yes, Your Highness. Prince Amael was last seen at the borders of Zestella. He was fighting alongside Princess Celeste and Princess Alicia."

For a moment, Christina froze, her chest tightening as if the air had been knocked out of her. Then, relief flooded her features, and she collapsed back into her chair, exhaling shakily.

"Thank goodness…" She sighed, a faint tremble in her voice as the tension that had built up inside her since Amael’s disappearance drained from her.

The messenger nodded once more, quietly excusing himself and leaving Christina alone with Myrcella, who stood nearby, her golden eyes observing her exasperation.

"Samara told you he was fine," Myrcella said, crossing her arms. "You shouldn’t let yourself worry this much."

"I know," Christina nodded but smiled wryly. "But just knowing he’s alive isn’t enough. He’s still out there, and that means he’s still in danger."

Over the past few months, Amael had been her pillar of strength, her only family still close to him. If something were to happen to him…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Samara, who materialized without a sound, seated casually on the grand council table.

"I just obtained confirmation from Anna. He’s fine," Samara also confirmed. "He’s heading to Utopia tomorrow to bring back Aunty Alea."

"R-Really?!"

Samara nodded. "Nyr confirmed it himself."

"Nyr?" Myrcella arched her brow.

"It’s Amael," Christina said simply.

Myrcella seemed to consider probing further but ultimately decided against it. Instead, she shifted the conversation. "So, what about the war? Are you planning to join it now?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Christina’s expression grew somber as she leaned back in her chair, her gaze falling to her hands.

For over two months, the war had raged on, and while she hadn’t yet taken direct action, her kingdom wasn’t idle. At Priscilla’s request, Christina had opened the kingdom’s borders to refugees from Valachia, offering refuge to the displaced civilians and vampires of the Tepes Kingdom. She wasn’t heartless, after all.

But providing refuge and taking up arms were two vastly different things.

Utopia’s forces were drawing dangerously close. Just days ago, the Kingdom of the Moonfangs, Fangoria, had been attacked—its lands bordering Olphea’s own. The threat was no longer theoretical; it was at their doorstep. If she hesitated too long, she risked her kingdom being encircled.

But the odds of that worst-case scenario playing out were slim. Valachia had been holding its ground exceptionally well since the fall of Elashor, and Fangoria remained a formidable stronghold under the protection of Jefer Moonfang. Still, Christina couldn’t shake the unease in her heart.

This moment presented the perfect opportunity to deliver a decisive blow against Utopia, a strike that could tip the scales and bring an end to this brutal war. The timing was impeccable—especially with Central Vedelia now under siege by Utopia’s forces.

Christina’s hands tightened on the armrests of her chair. She didn’t like the Heads for abandoning her mother in their time of need, but the Holy Tree was a different matter entirely. Without it, Sancta Vedelia would never recover—and that included her own kingdom.

"I…"

-Thud!

The sharp sound of something falling outside the room shattered her train of thought.

Myrcella’s head whipped toward the door, her golden eyes narrowing. Samara slid off the table in one fluid motion, bracing herself as well. Christina stood slowly, her heart racing.

They waited in silence for a moment and then—

-BAM!

The door was kicked open.

"...!"

Christina froze first, her breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked onto the figure standing in the doorway.

She hadn’t seen that face in so many years.

Myrcella’s eyes widened, but her instincts kicked in, and she immediately raised her hands, prepared to fight. Beside her, Samara’s eyes narrowed.

The man standing exuded a 9th Ascension.

His silver hair was slicked back neatly, and his piercing gray eyes scanned the room.

Kleines Falkrona.

Kleines’s gaze finally landed on Christina. His lips curved soon into a father smile.

"You’ve grown up beautifully, Christina," he said softly.

"F–Father…?" Christina’s voice cracked as she spoke.

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Was this real? A dream? A hallucination? But there was no mistaking that gaze, that tone—it was definitely him.

Kleines stepped forward, but before he could take more than a single step, Myrcella raised her hand. "Stop."

He halted, his gaze shifting toward her. A sigh escaped his lips. "Is that how you greet your father, Myrcella?"

Myrcella flinched slightly. "You… You can’t be…"

"I am. And deep down, you know it. What happened at Edenis Raphiel was an accident—a necessary one. I never wanted to hurt either of you, but I needed to retrieve Alea."

"Mother… Why?" Christina asked trying her best to keep her calm.

Kleines turned to her, his expression softening. "Your mother is safe. She’s fine, Christina. I would never hurt her, you should know it. Everything I’ve done has been to ensure that she is free—free from everything and everyone that might use her for their gain. At the end of this, she’ll finally be left alone, as she deserves."

"What are you saying?" Christina was only more confused.

"Your mother possesses something everyone covets—something too dangerous to leave unprotected. I’m extracting it to ensure no one can use it against her. If I don’t, she’ll suffer at the hands of someone far worse."

Christina’s hands balled into fists. "Why didn’t you just ask her? Why go to such lengths? And where were you all this time? We—" her voice faltered, her lips quivering. "We buried you…"

"Ah, yes. The burial," Kleines chuckled dryly. "You did bury me. But afterward, my body was transported to the Lands of Horus by my father’s command. Did you confirm the truth after hearing I was alive?"

Christina hesitated before answering, her voice faint. "Mother tried. She sent inquiries, but they’ve yet to respond…"

"Of course they haven’t. The truth of the Falkrona House isn’t something they’d reveal to just anyone," Kleines said with a scoff.

"Where have you been all this time? And more importantly… are you working with our enemies?" Myrcella interrupted, still suspicious.

"Never," Kleines replied coldly. "Everything I’ve done, everything I’m doing, is for my family. For you, Myrcella. For Christina. For Connor, Amael, and Alea. All of it."

"Then bring back Mother!" Christina snapped.

"I will," Kleines promised as he walked toward her closer. "I swear to you."

But before he could get any closer, Samara stepped in, raising a hand to block his path.

Kleines stopped, his gray eyes narrowing dangerously as he regarded her. "And who might you be?" He asked before he recognized her. "Ah, I see. You must be one of that monster’s whores."

"F-Father?!" Christina erupted in shock.

Samara didn’t show reaction at all as she channeled more mana. It was quite difficult but she didn’t care as blood began to trickle down her nose.

But before the situation could escalate further, Myrcella intervened, placing a hand on Samara’s shoulder. "Wait."

Samara shot her a look, but Myrcella’s expression was calm as she gazed at Kleines.

It was him. She was certain now. This man was Kleines Falkrona. And while he wouldn’t harm Christina, Myrcella wasn’t ready to lower her guard just yet. She wanted answers. Why had he come all this way? Was it truly just to see his daughter? Or was there something more?

Kleines shifted his attention back to Christina. "Christina, you’ve been deceived. That monster inside Amael—Nyrel—he’s manipulating you."

"Monster? You mean Nyrel? He already told us everything. Mother and I know, and we’ve accepted him."

Kleines sighed heavily, shaking his head. "How gullible can you be, my daughter? To trust something like him…" His words trailed off as he reached out, his hand brushing against Christina’s cheek.

Christina flinched but didn’t pull away. For years, she had yearned for this touch, for the presence of her father. Perhaps that’s why she couldn’t resist it now, even as her mind screamed at her to question him.

"Your only younger brother is Amael. Nyrel is nothing but a stranger to you," Kleines said. "You have no idea what he’s capable of. Right now, he’s stealing our Amael’s life—using his body like a parasite, feeding off him as a leech would, draining everything from him."

His words was filled with a lot of contempt shocking Christina.

"H–How can you say that, Father?" You’ve never even met him! I’ve spent a whole year with Nyrel, and I know he’s my brother!"

Her hand shot out, slapping Kleines’ arm away as he reached toward her.

Kleines studied her in silence, his expression turning conflicted. She wasn’t listening, couldn’t see the truth. He sighed, his hand lowering but not retreating. Darkness began to swirl around it, a faint black glow emanating from his fingertips.

"You leave me no choice, my dear," he said softly. "See for yourself what Amael will become if Nyrel remains within him."

Before Christina could react, Kleines gently pressed his hand to her head.

"...!"

A jolt ran through her body. Christina gasped, flinching as if struck. Her wide amber eyes rolled back, and the world around her dissolved into pitch-black nothingness.

Then, the visions came.

Thousands upon thousands of images flickered past her like scattered pieces of a shattered mirror. Disjointed and overwhelming, they coalesced into a clear scene—a memory.

In it, she saw Amael. He was younger, pudgy, and awkward. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, his boyish features marked with arrogance. This was Amael after his bloodline had been sealed by their mother, just as he was gifted the Falkrona Legacy.

But his behavior... it was revolting.

She saw him swaggering around the castle, harassing women with an entitled smirk. He barked orders at servants, bullied anyone who dared cross his path, and flaunted his status to get whatever he desired. He was cruel, petty, and drunk on his own power.

The scene shifted. Time raced forward.

Now Amael was older, attending the Royal Eden Academy. He stood in the middle of a crowded hall, his face twisted in fury as he quarreled with a young woman with dark green hair and tangerine eyes. Standing beside her was a young man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Jennyfer. He sided with the green-haired girl, offering her his support as Amael stormed off.

Visions blurred once more.

Christina gulped as the next vision unfolded. Amael was dueling the same young man. A small crowd had gathered behind the dark-haired man, all glaring at Amael with contempt.

It wasn’t just any crowd.

They were all beautiful. Among them was the green-haired girl from before, a blonde haired girl who carried herself like royalty, a girl with gray hair probably a Falkrona, and a blue-haired girl whose worry set her apart from the others.

Amael fought but the outcome was inevitable. He fell to the ground, bloodied and defeated, his fists slamming into the dirt as he let out a growl of anger.

The vision shifted once more.

This time, Amael stood in a dark place. Before him loomed a tall man with jet-black hair and piercing amber eyes that mirrored Christina’s own.

"Have you made your choice, Edward? Or should I call you... Leon?"

"Call me whatever you like," Amael said with a smirk. "But yeah, I’ve made my choice. I want Lucifer’s Legacy."

"Then welcome to Ante-Eden," Brandon said.

"W–What…" Christina stuttered was speechless.

Ante-Eden. The name was etched into the annals of terror and tragedy. It was the organization responsible for the brutal murders of her aunt Oryanna, her uncle Thomen, and her cousin Elona recently.

And now, Amael had joined them.

Her mind reeled, refusing to accept what she’d just heard. Amael—her Amael, her brother—part of them? It seemed impossible.

Before she could process her disbelief, the vision shifted.

The familiar sight of Pallas, her capital, materialized before her. The streets blurred as the perspective hurtled toward the palace. Her heartbeat quickened, a growing dread coiling in her chest.

Then the sound came.

The sickening echoes of blood spurting filled the air. The scene shifted to the throne hall, and what Christina saw froze her in place.

"...!"

Her breath caught in her throat, her body trembling as the color drained from her face.

Connor lay motionless on the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. His lifeless eyes stared into nothingness.

Nearby, her mother, Alea, was crumpled on the cold floor, her face stained with tears that still ran warm down her cheeks.

And then there was Amael.

He stood tall amidst the carnage, his expression cold, his hand gripping ’her’ throat.

"A–Amael…" ’Christina’ choked out weakly, her hands clutching his arm desperately, pain etched into her every feature.

"Sorry, sister," Amael said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "But just die for me."

Without hesitation, he drove his sword into ’her’ chest.

Christina staggered backward as she felt the phantom pain of the blow. Her chest heaved, and she gasped for air, her vision blurring with tears.

The nightmare wasn’t over.

Amael’s cold, unfeeling eyes stared down at her fallen form. With a flick of his wrist, he ignited the castle in a blaze of roaring purple fire. The flames consumed everything—Connor’s body, her own lifeless form.

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But her mother’s body... it wasn’t left to burn. Amael seized it and carried it away.

"S–Stop…" Christina pleaded, her voice breaking, her words almost drowned by the crackle of the inferno ragging around. Tears streamed down her face as the visions continued to assault her.

The scene shifted yet again, this time to Sancta Vedelia—specifically Central Vedelia.

It was ablaze.

The once flourishing city was reduced to ash and ruin. Countless bodies littered the streets, some still engulfed in vivid purple flames that burned unnaturally bright.

Amael hovered above the devastation, a smirk tugging at his lips. One of his eyes was entirely black.

Below him stood several figures Christina recognized—Victor, Celeste, and Cylien among them—also some of Celesta.

The vision twisted once more.

This time, it was a sight more horrifying than anything before.

At the center of the Monolith of Eden Christina had seen it only once, stood Amael. Blood and corpses surrounded him—countless lives snuffed out.

Among the dead, she saw familiar faces: Celeste, Victor, and others she had known. Some she could name, and others she couldn’t.

Facing Amael was a woman who seemed to be a Goddess. Her pure white hair shimmered like freshly fallen snow, and her white eyes shone coldly. In her hands, she held Trinity Nihil.

"It’s over, Laima," Amael said. He raised a jet-black sword, pointing it at the goddess. "I will destroy this world and reset it in my image."

Laima glared at him and a cyclone of white sand swirled around her.

"I won’t let you."

Without warning, she turned the blade of Trinity Nihil inward, pressing it against her stomach.

Amael’s eyes widened in shock. "What are you—"

"Ars Fatum."

-SPURT!

Before he could finish, Laima plunged the blade into herself, and the world around Christina erupted into a blinding white light.

She was yanked back into the present with a violent jolt.

"Aghh!" Christina collapsed to the ground, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. She clutched her chest, gasping for breath as bile rose in her throat. Unable to hold it back, she retched, tears streaming down her pale, stricken face.

"Christina!" Myrcella rushed to her side, holding her trembling form.

Kleines was already gone, having vanished without a trace.

But Christina didn’t care.

Her mind was fractured, her thoughts consumed by the horrifying visions. The scenes she’d witnessed played over and over in her head, leaving her frozen in a state of abject terror.

It wasn’t just a vision. It was a nightmare—a glimpse of a future that had already happened.