I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 446  [Event] [Semester-Exam At Vanadias] [34] Demoness Or Elf?

-BOOOOM!

A concentrated beam of reddish venom shot from the Viper King's maw, faster than Alvara had anticipated. It tore through the air colliding with her Mana Shield in an instant. The impact was immense, the force of the venom blast sending shockwaves through the dark place.

The first layer of her shield shattered instantly, the venom eating through it like acid. The second layer barely held, cracking under the pressure as the venom continued its relentless assault. Alvara gritted her teeth, pouring more Prana into the final layer, but the force of the attack was overwhelming.

The venomous ray exploded against the final layer with a deafening boom, sending Alvara skidding backward, her heels digging into the ground as she fought to maintain her balance. The protective shield barely held, but she could feel the sting of the venom as small droplets splattered onto her clothes melting it and turning her skin red.

The Viper King unleashed another furious hiss, its red eyes ablaze as it coiled back, ready to strike once more. But before it could launch its deadly attack, something pierced through its massive, scaled body.

A golden tendril—shimmering with an unnatural light—wriggled its way through the beast's flesh, snaking out like a radiant vine. As the Viper King convulsed, more golden tendrils erupted from the original, twisting and skewering through its thick, armored scales, impaling the creature's massive frame from every direction.

"You filthy little creature!" Alvara sneered in contempt. In the blink of an eye, she appeared above the writhing beast. Her expression was now twisted in disgust as she hovered over the bloodied Viper King, whose body trembled with the last vestiges of life, slowly disintegrating under the force of its own venom and Alvara's overwhelming attack.

The earlier strike had been the serpent's desperate, final effort to bring her down—a last stand that had failed miserably, of course.

"Hah?! You think I'll let you die so easily, you wretched beast?" Alvara's golden eyes narrowed as she glanced down at her body, where droplets of the Viper King's venom had touched her. The venom had dissolved parts of her clothing, even sizzling as it grazed her skin. Though her wounds healed almost instantly—her body regenerating with supernatural speed—the mere fact that the creature's filth had dared to touch her sent a wave of revulsion coursing through her veins.

"Disgusting!" With a sharp intake of breath, Alvara channeled her Ruah, infusing it into her legs. In a blur of motion, she brought her heel down with an unusual force coming from a delicate elf.

—BAM!

Her reinforced heel slammed into the Viper King's disintegrating form. The ground trembled beneath the impact, sending cracks spidering out in every direction. The Viper King twitched, though whether it was still clinging to life or merely reacting to its upcoming death was uncertain.

But Alvara didn't care. –Bam!

"How dare you!"

-SPURT!

She continued to stomp down again and again, each strike more savage than the last. Her irritation only grew with each blow. The Viper King's once-impenetrable scales shattered beneath her heel, releasing bursts of venom with each violent impact. Yet, not a single drop reached her now, something gold protecting her from the vile liquid.

Still, she did not stop. At that moment, Amael's groggy eyes fluttered open, the haze of sleep still clouding his senses. His body felt marginally better, the rest having helped him recover some strength. Blinking a few times, he narrowed his gaze, trying to focus on the scene in front of him. His ears picked up an irritated, familiar voice—Alvara's—ringing loudly.

Through his bleary vision, Amael could see her standing over the crumpled body of the Viper King, relentlessly stomping the creature into the ground with the full force of her rage.

"Die! Die!" Amael sighed inwardly. He knew Alvara had a severe case of OCD, but this level of violence was extreme—even for her. She looked even more furious than when she had fought Cylien. He was fairly certain that her outburst wasn't entirely about the Viper King. No, this felt personal.

For some reason, Amael couldn't shake the feeling that he was the true source of Alvara's anger. She was likely using the poor Viper King as an outlet for her pent-up anger towards him. If the Viper King had been aware of this fact, Amael imagined the beast would have spat its venom in his direction before dying—dragging him into the afterlife out of spite.

Minutes passed, and soon, there was nothing left of the Viper King except for its fangs, which Alvara swiftly retrieved with a thorn conjured from her magic. Whether she did this to save Amael or simply to prolong the creature's suffering by ripping its fangs out while it was dying remained unclear. Either way, the monstrous serpent was gone, reduced to nothing but shattered remnants.

"Aaah... aaah..." Alvara's breath came in heavy, labored gasps, but her face bore a satisfied smirk. She looked down at the spot where the Viper King had once writhed, now little more than a bloodied stain on the earth and it was bringing an intense feeling of delight.

To Amael, she looked nothing short of a demoness. It was almost ironic. Elves were supposed to be the noblest, most delicate race in the world. They were renowned for their grace and beauty, the embodiment of the ideal wife for those who wanted a gentle, flower-like partner. And Alvara, with her noble lineage, had fooled countless people into believing she was that perfect, delicate flower. But now, seeing her in this light, Amael could only shake his head in disbelief. Beneath that polished facade was a sadistic woman.

Suddenly, he felt a cold chill run down his spine as Alvara turned her gaze toward him, her sharp golden eyes locking onto his. In an instant, her expression shifted from one of triumphant satisfaction to cold, unfeeling indifference. Without hesitation, she began to approach him.

Behind Amael, her summoned plants—a vicious yellow vine and a thorny, gaping-mawed creature—were mercilessly devouring a smaller red viper that had tried to slither away unnoticed. Its pitiful escape was cut short as the plants tore into it, leaving no trace of the serpent.

"W-Wait! Don't come any closer!" Amael blurted out. He wriggled around trying to break free from the vines but to no avail.

"It seems your idiotic state hasn't ended yet," Alvara muttered, clicking her tongue in annoyance.

"D-Don't come near me, I said!" Amael stuttered once more. "I don't want you stomping on me! I don't have that kind of fetish, understood?!"

Alvara paused, her expression blank. Despite having vented her fury on the Viper King, she could feel her anger bubbling up again because of the same man.

"Do that to Lykhor! Not me!"

Ignoring Amael's protests as best she could, Alvara leapt from the pit, dragging him along like dead weight. In one hand, her vines held the gleaming fangs of the Viper King, still dripping with venom. Once they reached solid ground, she released Amael unceremoniously, letting him drop onto the dirt with a thud. Her vines, however, held the fangs aloft, showcasing them to him.

Amael's hand instinctively reached out toward the fangs, but Alvara quickly snapped her vines back.

"You're going to tell me everything you know," she said, coldly. "Why did you mention Bryelle?" n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"T-Tell?" Amael blinked in confusion. "Tell what?"

Her expression darkened, and without warning, one of her thorny vines lashed out, piercing his shoulder with precision. A sharp, searing pain tore through his body, and Amael let out a strangled cry, eyes squeezing shut from the sudden agony.

Alvara didn't flinch. Pain, as she had suspected, was an effective—if temporary—method of snapping him back to reality. She watched as clarity flickered behind his eyes, the fog of whatever state he'd been in lifting just enough for him to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

"Talk now," she said icily, "or you'll die from the pain here and now."

Amael gritted his teeth, meeting her gaze. The memories of what had just happened in his strange state came flooding back. His immediate impulse was to crawl into a hole and hide from the shame, but there was no time for that. The fangs were within reach, and he needed them. More urgently, Bryelle's life was on the line.

With a heavy sigh, he slapped his own forehead, trying to shake off the last remnants of dizziness. Leaning back against a nearby tree, he looked up at Alvara.

"Behemoth... I think they're going to kill Bryelle. I'm sure of it now—today or tomorrow."

Alvara's eyes widened in shock. For a moment, her stoic demeanor cracked, revealing the fear and panic behind her hardened exterior.

"You're just telling me this now?" She snapped, her fists clenching tight, trembling with barely restrained anger.

Amael knew the severity of the situation—Bryelle could very well be dead already. He had played a risky game by withholding the information, but he hadn't had much choice. There were too many variables, too many dangers. "You were trying to kill me, remember?" He shot back coldly as his hand clenched his bleeding shoulder.

Alvara snorted and turned as if to leave. But then she stopped and looked back at him. "Utopia... How do you know about them? And me?"

Amael gave a short, bitter laugh, leaning more heavily on the tree for support. "Do you think it's a coincidence? Behemoth attacking the same day Utopia chose to invade? Come on, Alvara. You're smarter than that. Think."

"..."

She didn't want to believe him—she had no reason to. And yet, some part of her already suspected something was wrong, something bigger than just the exam or Behemoth's actions. Amael had merely confirmed what she had feared all along.