I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 481: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [20] Lykhor's Confession

Chapter 481: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [20] Lykhor's Confession



Alvara stood by the wide, arched window of her cabin, gazing out at the endless expanse of the sea. But her eyes seemed to look past it, lost in thought. It had been a week since she departed Sancta Vedelia, and now, at last, the shores of Utopia City could be seen.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The journey had been far longer than anticipated, despite the swift and well-equipped vessel that carried her. The delay was due to the resistance from Sancta Vedelia's forces. They had pursued the boat with a singular determination, their intent clear: to sink Utopia's prized ships.

Conflict was not confined to the seas; battles raged in Sancta Vedelia itself.

As an esteemed guest-no, a valuable asset- Durathiel Ruvelion himself had ordered the utmost precautions for her safety. The crew adhered to his commands with diligence, taking calculated detours through less-charted waters. These delays, though frustrating, were necessary to ensure her safety.

Her quarters aboard the ship were nothing short of opulent, a royal suite adorned with polished wood, gilded accents, and silk drapes that swayed gently with the rocking of the vessel. Yet the splendor around her did little to soothe her troubled heart. Alvara rarely indulged in the comforts provided, preferring instead to stand by the window.

A deep sense of nostalgia had consumed her these past days. Memories of her father's laughter and Leena's gentle touch haunted her waking moments.

But beneath the longing lay something darker-a foreboding she could not shake.

'I am going to die.'

The premonition had lingered since childhood-a deep-seated unease that her life would be tragically short. This feeling of an early death, had intensified since the war began, as if she were inexorably drawn towards a fateful end in this very conflict.

Yet she didn't seem afraid of death. She had not come to Utopia to yield to her elder brother's desires or to submit herself to Durathiel Ruvelion's will.

No.

Her purpose was something else. She had waited long enough, endured too much. The time for patience was over.

If Durathiel fell, the war would crumble with him. Her brother's grip on power would falter, and the other Houses would rise again, reclaiming their authority and dismantling Kendel's army. Sancta Vedelia, battered and imperfect as it was, would remain a haven for Humans, Halves, and Hybrids—a place fraught with danger but at least free from Utopia's.

Her mother would be released and Alvara could count on her to take care of Bryelle. Allen was there as well. She could only believe in his change to do something.

"Alvara."

A knock echoed through Alvara's room, breaking her reverie. She didn't answer, but the door creaked open regardless, revealing Lykhor. His audacity to enter unbidden might have once earned him a swift dismissal—perhaps even a forceful one-but today, Alvara merely regarded him with faint indifference. The weight of her thoughts dulled her irritation, as if some part of her had accepted that nothing trivial mattered anymore. The moment she'd been preparing for was fast approaching.

"We've arrived. You should prepare yourself," Lykhor said.

"I need no preparations," Alvara replied, rising from her seat. Without sparing him another glance, she strode past him and out into the corridor.

"That Durathiel should have had at least the decency to greet us himself," Lykhor muttered, trailing behind her with a scowl.

Alvara ignored him entirely. It was irrelevant when or how she met Durathiel. What mattered was that when the moment came, she would be ready.

Lykhor quickened his pace to match hers. "You must be anxious about this whole marriage arrangement with Durathiel. But don't worry, I won't let it happen-"

Alvara and Kendel's hatred set them apart. Their pain forged a bond that no one else could

replicate, least of all their younger brother, Allen. Since that day, Alvara had kept her distance from him. He hadn't been any different from Lykhor in her eyes-ignorant, inexperienced, and woefully inadequate in his understanding of their suffering.

Allen had been fortunate. He had survived that day unscathed, hidden within the castle, shielded by the arrival of Tanya, who had driven out the invaders and saved him. He hadn't endured even a fraction of what she and Kendel had suffered, yet he dared to act as though he shared their pain. His attempts to emulate their hatred had always struck Alvara as pathetic- a childish effort to earn their approval.

But recently, Allen had become more tolerable. His demeanor had shifted after a traumatic encounter with Amael, and for the first time, Alvara saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. It wasn't enough to bridge the chasm between them, but it was a start. Without sparing another glance at Lykhor, who remained crumpled in the corridor, Alvara stepped onto the deck.

"Your Highness," a dozen knights greeted her in unison, bowing respectfully.

She ignored them, her gaze immediately drawn to the monumental structure dominating the skyline-the Tower of Utopia.

"Please follow us," the leading knight instructed, gesturing toward the stairs leading down

to the harbor.

Alvara descended, entering the capital of Utopia. The city was nothing like Elyen Kiora or the

islands of the Blood Elves and Dark Elves. Where those places were showing each of their tradition, Utopia exuded raw power. Its streets were teeming not with merchants or artisans, but with seasoned knights. It looked more like a military city than anything else. This was the heart of the Utopian Alliance-a city built not for beauty or comfort, but for

dominance.

Below, leaning lightly on a polished cane, stood an elderly High Elf.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet the renowned Teraquin Celestial Princess in person," Grukel said with a gentle smile. "I must say, the rumors did not exaggerate in the slightest regarding

your beauty and regal bearing." He chuckled softly.

The knights flanking them remained silent, but their expressions said a lot about their thoughts. Alvara was every bit the celestial presence she was rumored to be-a figure revered

as a Goddess in her homeland, much like Freya in Utopia.

Alvara, however, was unbothered by the flattery.

"Where is Durathiel?"

Her casual reference to him drew visible frowns and whispered murmurs among those

present, but Alvara didn't care. Their disapproval was meaningless to her. Grukel however kept his smile. "His Majesty is currently indisposed," he replied, bowing his head just enough to maintain an air of diplomacy. "In the meantime, allow me the honor of

introducing you to Utopia. There is much to see."

With that, he turned around as he gestured for her to follow.