I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 689: [Blood Moon War] [33] Amael’s Thoughts

Since the very first years of his life, Amael had been told he was special.

It was his mother who planted that seed in him. She would cradle him close, her smile warm and radiant, her voice soft as she whispered that he was blessed—blessed by the Gods themselves, blessed by Eden. She said it with such conviction that, as a child, Amael believed her without question. At that time, he didn’t truly understand what it meant, but her words carried a weight that shaped him.

It wasn’t until the day he met his father that the meaning of ’special’ began to take form.

His father was no ordinary man. He was Nihil, one of the Three Holy Guardians of Eden. To be the son of such a figure was not a gift of chance; it was a deliberate creation. Amael, even in his youth, realized this bitter truth: he was not born out of love but out of necessity. A vessel, a plan, an inevitability. And yet, despite that, his mother’s affection had always been genuine, and even Nihil, stern and godlike as he was, showed a certain form of love toward him.

As Amael grew, he was raised in the Edenic way, groomed to embody the son of a god. Under Nihil’s watchful eye, he learned discipline, strength, and control. He was taught how to wield power, how to speak with authority, how to move with dignity. Even A-Nihil, his stepmother, played a role in shaping him—though her cold eyes and clipped tone often betrayed her dislike. Amael didn’t need anyone to tell him why. He could feel it: her resentment stemmed from what he carried inside him.

He was the vessel of Samael Eveningstar.

Later, Nihil explained that A-Nihil had despised Samael from the beginning. She had opposed Nihil’s plan to revive the ’good’ Samael, believing such an endeavor dangerous, perhaps foolish. But plans and ideals were soon shattered when the Prophecy of Nevia was revealed.

It did not speak of a reborn Samael. Not the Samael Nemes desired, nor the benevolent Samael Nihil hoped to restore. Instead, the prophecy declared something else entirely: that Amael would not live long enough to gather the Seven Sins. His path would end before it could even truly begin.

Amael remembered the silence in his father’s eyes when the words were spoken. Nihil was shaken, wounded in a way only Amael, as his son, could perceive. But Nihil was not a man to accept fate without resistance. If the prophecy denied one future, he would forge another.

That was when his father’s attention turned elsewhere—to other vessels, other pawns, other carefully chosen lives.

After the experiment with Leon Grimlock, and his own son, Nihil sought another candidate: Nyrel Loyster, bearer of the Sin of Wrath.

Nihil didn’t want to choose the Sin of Wrath at first but he had no choice when he saw that others had already reached Nyrel’s world and life.

His plan was meticulous this time. He intended to weave Nyrel’s memories into the boy Edward Falkrona, just as he had done before with Leon. But this time, Nihil swore there would be no repeat of the catastrophe that Leon had become in a previous timeline. He was determined, precise, cautious.

To safeguard his work, Nihil created Jarvis, a system of his own design. Jarvis’ role was clear: to seal fragments of both Nyrel’s memories and Edward’s, allowing them to blend without destroying the vessel’s identity. It was not just science or magic—it was Nihil’s artistry in control and foresight.

But even Nihil knew control could not be absolute. For that reason, he reached out to those who could act as guardians, overseers of his chosen vessel. He struck deals with three powerful Goddesses—Cleenah, Nevia, and Nemesis.

Cleenah agreed to watch over Edward in exchange for her freedom.

Nevia’s case was more delicate, more heartfelt. She had long been sealed away, forgotten by time, and Nihil offered her freedom in exchange for becoming a Legacy Vessel of Samael Eveningstar. Anywhere beyond Eden’s suffocating realm was enough for her, and she accepted. That was Nihil’s last gift for his dying daughter who had overused her power.

And then came Nemesis.

Another Princess of Khaos, Nemesis, had been imprisoned for countless millennia after Samael’s rebellion against Eden. Yet even behind chains, she found ways to stretch her influence into the mortal world, to gather the Sins.

Nihil knew her strength, her danger, and her inevitability. That was why he released her as well. In return, she promised not to manipulate Edward, not to twist his mind into Samael’s against his will. To Nihil’s surprise—or perhaps his secret expectation—Nemesis agreed without hesitation.

But Nihil’s motives went beyond strategy. He knew Edward would need protection, not just from the Evil Gods but from even greater threats—Lucifer Morningstar himself. And who better to guard Samael’s vessel than Nemesis, the one being whose wrath would burn brighter than any enemy’s blade?

Thus, the three women were sealed into an ancient temple of the Olphean Kingdom, consecrated to Eden. The irony of forcing Nemesis, who despised Eden, to dwell in his sanctified halls was not lost on anyone—least of all Nemesis herself. Nihil was certain that one day she would slaughter those who dared bind her.

But that was exactly why he had brought Harivel, who was another Princess of Khaos, and younger sister to Nemesis. He trusted Harivel to bind Nemesis.

Unfortunately, not everything was unfolding the way Nihil had envisioned. The future, no matter how carefully planned, had a way of twisting out of control. One of Nevia’s prophecies had spoken of a grim day for Sancta Vedelia—a day with Edward Falkrona at the very heart of the disaster.

And now, despite all of his countless schemes, despite everything he had tried to control—both in this life and the previous one—Nihil had come to a terrifying conclusion: Edward Falkrona needed to die.

Cleenah was gone. Nevia was gone.

Only Nemesis remained, whispering in Edward’s mind.

Amael couldn’t entirely blame his father. From Nihil’s perspective, Edward was a glaring red flag—an unpredictable storm that might one day shatter everything. Nemesis being the remaining one living inside Edward wasn’t part of the plan. It was too dangerous. Too volatile. Nihil was afraid—afraid of Nemesis taking full control, afraid of losing control over the Vessel of Samael Eveningstar.

Amael had never seen his father so unsettled. Nihil hadn’t accounted for this. It was as if fate had slipped a knife between his fingers and reminded him he wasn’t as omnipotent as he believed.

And then there was Cleenah.

Amael could feel his father’s fury whenever her name was mentioned. Cleenah, who had sworn to stay and watch over Edward, had betrayed them by dying. But the question that gnawed at Nihil was simple: how? She had been perfectly alive the last time he remembered her. Yes, injured, worn down from protecting and keeping Edward’s emotions in check, but still alive. Strong. And then suddenly, she was gone.

Had she broken some law to shield Edward? Had she sacrificed herself in a way he couldn’t foresee? Whatever the truth, Nihil would never know. And in that ignorance, he found his resolve—Edward had to be erased. Cleenah’s suspicious, untimely death was just one more nail in Edward’s coffin.

And so, Nihil passed the task to Amael.

Amael understood perfectly. His father had always overseen Samael’s vessels. He had always been the one to guide them, restrain them, use them. If Nihil said Edward had to die, then it was his responsibility as a son to obey.

Or at least, that’s what Amael told himself.

Because lately, ever since meeting Edward, doubts had begun creeping in.

Edward was like him—a vessel of Samael—but their paths couldn’t have been more different. Amael had been pampered, protected, taught carefully by Nihil himself. Edward, on the other hand, was left exposed, hunted, a target wherever he went. His life had been brutal, unfair, in both timelines.

And yet... Edward endured.

Even burdened with the Sin of Wrath, even after losing Jarvis and Cleenah—the only things that had ever helped him keep his emotions in check—he still held on. He still fought to remain himself.

Amael found himself respecting that.

Admiring it even.

Part of him wondered if they were wrong. If maybe, just maybe, Edward wasn’t destined to fall into Nemesis’ grasp. He didn’t seem like someone who would willingly surrender his will. He didn’t crave Samael’s rebirth. In fact, he seemed determined to resist it at every turn.

So why not... trust him?

Amael wanted to believe it. He wanted to give Edward the benefit of the doubt.

Or so he hoped.

The forest shattered around him.

-BOOOOOOM!!!

A thunderous explosion ripped through the silence, the shockwave rolling over the trees. From the broken earth, a torrent of purple aura burst upward, staining the sky in its unnatural glow.

All eyes turned toward the source.

Amael didn’t need to guess. He knew instantly where it came from.

Edward.

There he stood at the epicenter, his body engulfed in a torrent of power. Wrath. Pure, suffocating Wrath. It surged from him in waves, a tide of hatred and fury that twisted the air itself. His entire body radiated a dark purple glow, thick and heavy like poison, coating him in a dreadful light.

Even his white hair seemed to drink in the aura, shifting into a deep, violet sheen under the overwhelming energy. His face was shadowed, features hidden, and eyes closed.

Amael’s breath caught in his throat.

This was no ordinary outburst. This was Wrath unleashed.

And Edward was drowning in it.

”What... what are you doing?” Amael mumbled in shock.

Even Rulana—who moments before had been locked in battle without hesitation—had gone pale. Her sword trembled in her grip, her breath shallow, as if the very sight of that dreadful aura threatened to swallow her whole. It was so thick, so oppressive, that she feared she might lose herself just by looking at it.

Edward stood in the center of that storm, silent, drowning in Wrath.

Above, Caerus narrowed his eyes, watching the boy intently. ”You’re... wielding Divinity?” His tone was incredulous, his words slipping between disbelief and anger. ”How is that possible?”

He did not recognize Wrath for what it truly was—but the power was undeniable. Something divine. Something that should not exist in Edward’s hands.

Edward raised his head slowly, his pale hair bathed in violet. His gaze locked on Caerus.

And then his figure blurred.

-BOOOOM!

Caerus’ eyes flew wide as Edward appeared in front of him, faster than thought itself. A devastating knee smashed against his chestplate. The impact rang like thunder, the holy armor caving inward with a horrifying crunch before Caerus’ body was flung through the air like a broken doll.

He skidded across the sky, coughing, his vision flashing white. When he steadied himself and looked down at his chest, his heart sank. His sacred armor, a relic said to endure storms and steel alike, was disintegrating—falling apart piece by piece as though eaten by invisible flames.

With a growl, Caerus tore it off and cast it aside, glaring down at the boy approaching him like a shadow of death.

”Answer me!” Caerus roared, raising his hand. ”Thundering Sky!”

The heavens obeyed. A colossal bolt of lightning split the clouds, screaming down toward Edward with the fury of a god’s wrath. The light illuminated the forest, scorching the earth in its descent.

But Edward didn’t move. Didn’t even raise a hand.

Instead... something else emerged.

From the thick tide of Wrath that cloaked his body, a figure began to take shape—stepping out of him as though she had always been there, waiting to be revealed.

A woman.

Her skin was pale as moonlight, her long hair spilling down her back like rivers of ink. A black blindfold concealed her eyes, yet the weight of her presence crushed every soul who dared to look upon her.

Caerus froze. His breath caught in his throat. His body screamed to flee, but his legs would not obey.

That suffocating aura—it was unlike anything he had ever felt. Vast. Eternal. A nightmare that dwarfed even his father Zeus, whose presence once made the sky tremble. Compared to her, even the King of the Gods felt... small.

There could be no doubt.

This was a Khaos Princess.

Nemesis.

She stood above Edward. The lightning bolt, a titan’s strike of destruction, curved unnaturally toward her, condensed into a single point, and—without warning—vanished into nothingness. Space itself had swallowed it whole, erasing its existence.

A cruel smile curved across her lips. She moved toward Edward, her steps light on the air but inevitable, until she reached him. With a gentleness that contrasted her terror, she extended her hand through the swirling purple haze and touched his cheek.

”Samael...” She leaned down, her lips brushing his in a kiss, cold and lingering. ”...don’t let yourself be consumed.”

Edward’s eyes snapped open. The suffocating aura flickered, the violent glow around him beginning to dim, shrinking back as clarity bled into his gaze.

”What...” Edward muttered, disoriented, his voice raw as though waking from a nightmare.

Nemesis leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear, her whisper curling into his mind like silk chains. ”Use it.”

He hesitated, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Then he looked at her—and for an instant, his uncertainty faltered.

Nemesis intertwined her fingers with his, her cold, flawless hand gripping his tightly. A surge of power rippled outward, and in their grasp, a new light was born—a dark blue glow that twisted itself into form.

A scythe. Long, curved, beautiful and terrible.

Nemesis’ Scythe which was capable of devouring Souls.

Its edge shimmered hungrily, as though thirsting for the soul it would claim.

”Now...do it.”