I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 652: [Event] [The Beauty And The Beast] [32] Divinity Spell

”It was the last one!” Victor shouted, his blade sinking deep into the final Hybrid’s chest before yanking it free with a spray of blood. The Hybrid let out a groan before collapsing lifelessly onto the marble floor.

The great hall within the castle now looked more like a war zone—broken pillars, scorched walls, and bodies strewn across the polished tiles. Victor stood amidst the wreckage, panting heavily. Selene was at his side, along with Priscilla, Cylien—who had recovered enough to fight—and a handful of surviving classmates and knights. Their numbers had thinned considerably, but they had held the line.

The immediate danger had passed at least here in the castle.

”Reinforce the castle walls immediately! Don’t let another Hybrid step foot inside!” Percy Moonfang shouted orders. The remaining knights snapped to attention, racing off to carry out his orders without hesitation.

Selene reached out, grabbing Victor’s arm. ”Are you alright?” She asked.

Victor gave a slight nod, though his breath came in shallow gasps. His shirt was scratched and stained with blood—some his own, most not.

”There were too many of them...” He muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He had fought like a man possessed—not just defending himself, but shielding his comrades, throwing himself between them and death time and again. It wasn’t something the old Victor might have done. But ever since he had been chosen as the Apostle of Nihil, something inside him had shifted.

A strange sense of duty had taken root—a responsibility not just to his friends, but to the people of Sancta Vedelia. He wanted to be worthy of their trust, their hopes.

Selene knew it, too. She hated it, though she never said it aloud. Not because she didn’t admire his resolve—she did—but because she feared the weight of that burden might break him one day.

Before she could say anything more, soft footsteps echoed through the hall. Everyone turned toward the sound, their weapons twitching instinctively—until they saw her.

A girl.

No more than twelve years old wearing a royal dress. Long brown hair cascaded down her back. She moved slowly, stepping carefully between bodies and pools of blood. She didn’t speak, didn’t flinch. Just kept walking, until she stopped beneath a shattered stained-glass window at the far end of the hall.

Only Percy seemed to recognize her.

”...Grandmother?” He called whispering as he stepped forward.

Beatrice Moonfang didn’t respond at first. She stood still, staring out through the shattered window. Her gaze fixed on something in the distance. A shadow. A shape.

Behemoth.

Even from here, it looked impossibly massive—a dark blot on the horizon that seemed to consume the light around it.

”Never,” Beatrice said, ”never in all my years... did I imagine that monster would return to walk upon my land. Not after nearly three hundred years.”

”I’ve already sent word beyond the capital. Reinforcements are on their way. We’ll take it down,” Percy said.

But Beatrice didn’t answer immediately. Her sharp yellowish eyes remained locked on the hulking figure far away.

”Duncan and Lazarus haven’t lifted a finger,” she said finally, bitterness coating each word.

”They’re likely preoccupied—”

She held up her hand to silence him.

”When I was a Demigod, I stepped in—time and time again. Even when the others did nothing. I fought not for power, but because it was right.” Her voice tightened. ”But I see how things are now. The ties that once bound our Kingdoms have frayed. The Utopian War was supposed to unite us, just like the ones before. But this time, it’s different.”

She sighed, slowly. Her tone turned more distant. ”Now, the leaders look at each other and wonder, ’Will you be the one to stab me in the back next?’”

Percy followed her gaze calmly.

Then Beatrice asked quietly, almost absently, ”Brian and Jefer... they’re still alive, aren’t they?”

”They are,” Percy confirmed.

”I see...” She whispered.

She brought a hand to her chest, as if suddenly struck by something sharp and invisible. Her breath caught.

But why...? Why did she feel like something had been torn from her?

Beatrice grimaced. It wasn’t just weariness. It wasn’t just pain. It was grief.

A deep, aching sense of loss she couldn’t explain.

”Victor, I’m going to join my sister. You should stay here,” Selene”s voice could be heard from behind.

Victor was leaning against a collapsed pillar, catching his breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat beading at his brow.

”Yeah... just give me a minute,” he replied. ”I can still go.”

”You don’t need to come with me. I can handle it—” Selene began, stepping closer.

”Don’t say that,” Victor interrupted, flashing a tired but warm smile. He reached for her, pulling her into a brief, breathless kiss that caught her off guard.

Selene blinked, stunned for a heartbeat.

”You’re my girlfriend,” he whispered against her lips, ”of course I’m going to follow you.”

She parted her lips slightly, almost instinctively drawn to the scent of his blood—his life force. The hunger stirred in her chest, sharp and sudden, but she suppressed it, biting it back with sheer will.

After a moment, the two of them headed off, moving toward the source of the chaos—toward the looming figure of Behemoth, where Amael and Elizabeth were already engaged in battle.

From the edge of the hall, Percy Moonfang watched them go, his face unreadable. His eyes lingered on Victor and Selene for a moment longer, then shifted to the horizon.

Behemoth was still there. The monstrosity towered in the distance like a mountain come to life, but now—it moved.

With a guttural rumble that seemed to shake the heavens, the creature unleashed a colossal black and white pillar of energy that shot skyward, cutting through the clouds like a spear. The column of darkness stretched so far, it looked as if it might pierce the moon itself.

’It’s too late.’

***

-BOOOOM!

A shockwave tore through the ruins of houses as Nikolas was hurled backward, landing hard with a grunt. Blood gushed from a jagged wound running down his arm and shoulder, but already the flesh was knitting itself back together because of his absurd Vampiric-Hybrid regeneration.

He spat crimson onto the dirt and smiled darkly.

Not far away, Jefer stood breathing heavily, his sword lowered but not sheathed. Behind him, Rodolf lay defeated, barely conscious.

”You’ve been a thorn in my side for too long, Jefer,” Nikolas said, shaking out his arm. ”If it weren’t for Braham, I would’ve crushed you ages ago.”

Jefer didn’t rise to the provocation. His eyes flicked toward the horizon where Behemoth still loomed—but something was off.

”...It’s over,” he said grimly. ”Behemoth’s movements... they’re slowing. He’s weakening.”

Even without sight, one could sense it—the giant’s energy had changed.

Nikolas let out a low chuckle. ”That’s where you’re wrong, Jefer Moonfang.”

Without another word, he shot into the sky, flying past Jefer like a crimson arrow.

”Wait—!” Jefer’s eyes widened as he launched after him.

But Nikolas was faster. He soared above the battlefield and landed atop Behemoth’s massive head. The beast didn’t react to his presence—whether it acknowledged him or not was unclear.

Below, thousands of knights had gathered, bombarding Behemoth with a relentless storm of mana circles—light, fire, wind, and water—all crashing against its hide like rain against stone.

Nikolas looked down on them and laughed.

”You’re all so desperate... so beautifully hopeless.”

High above, Brian narrowed his eyes, his gaze locking onto the figure now standing atop the Behemoth’s crown.

Nikolas raised his remaining hand, placing his palm against the beast’s armored skull.

”Divinity Spell,” he whispered.

A blinding explosion of light and sound burst forth.

-BOOOOM!

The sky rippled. Below him, a colossal magic circle bloomed across Behemoth’s body—white and black, swirling with symbols too ancient and alien for mortal eyes to comprehend. The runes danced in a slow spiral, glowing with an eerie radiance that made every knights tremble.

Jefer landed beside Brian, staring in disbelief.

”What is he doing?” He asked.

”I don’t know,” Brian said grimly. ”But I have a bad feeling about it...”

Nikolas’s smirk twisted wider. His hand clenched into fist.

Another thunderous boom rang out.

And then—Behemoth moved.

”GROOOOOHHHHHHH!!”

The monster let out a soul-shaking roar as a second pillar—this one black and white—erupted from its gaping maw, lancing into the heavens. The ancient symbols of the spell coiled around Behemoth’s titanic body, burning themselves into its flesh. The runes didn’t simply shine—they carved, seared, and sank deep into the creature’s being.

Nikolas had already leapt clear away. From there, he watched with a wide smile as Behemoth’s transformation continued.

The swirling ancient runes, still glowing with that eerie dual light—half divine, half profane—had finished seeping into the monster’s massive frame. The final symbol faded beneath its skin, and with it, the roaring energy that had erupted moments before died down.

For a moment, silence returned.

But then—

Behemoth’s massive body began to swell.

Not gradually—violently.

Its stomach expanded outward, ballooning with a grotesque inflation.

Brian’s eyes snapped wide open. ”Barriers—now!” He shouted.

At once, his knights sprang into motion, forming layers upon layers of shimmering mana shields around the perimeter. The air trembled with the surge of defensive spells cast in perfect synchrony.

Then, a sharp, unnatural sound sliced through the battlefield.

It was the sound of air being drawn in—a piercing suction, like the gasp of a dying world—as Behemoth continued to bloat.

The swelling reached its peak.

And then... it stopped.

A pulse ran through the creature’s body.

Its throat shifted.

Something was moving—upward.

Behemoth’s body slowly deflated as if whatever had bloated its gut was now being forced up through its enormous throat. The creature’s neck thickened, bulging grotesquely as something traveled within it.

Then its maw swelled grotesquely, flesh stretching, jaw creaking—

Until—

”GGGHHHHHHHRRRHH—!!”

Behemoth opened its jaws impossibly wide and vomited something out.

-THUUUD!

The ground trembled as the object landed with a tremendous crash, right at the foot of the beast. Dust and debris exploded into the air, momentarily obscuring the battlefield in a brown haze.

Everyone froze.

As the dust slowly began to settle all turned their eyes forward in breathless horror.

What they saw was... unexpected.

Not a monster.

Not a weapon.

But an egg.

Large and pale, almost luminous in color, its surface bore the same strange symbols that had appeared in Nikolas’s Divinity Spell. The white shell was slick and smooth, almost pearlescent, and seemed to pulse faintly with power—alive with the same ancient energy that had once surrounded Behemoth.

A hush fell over the entire battlefield.

Then—

-Crack

”...!”

The sound was small—but Jefer’s instincts flared like wildfire.

He looked down, and to his own shock, found his hands trembling.

-Crack -Crack!

More fractures spread across the surface of the egg, spiderwebbing from the top down. The glowing veins beneath its shell flickered erratically.

-Crack! -Crack! -CRAAACK!

The shell could no longer hold.

With one final tremor, it shattered—exploding outward into a swirling cloud of thick, black smoke that billowed up into the air like poison fog.