I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 455 [Event] [Semester-Exam At Vanadias] [41] Alvara's Wrath

Chapter 455 [Event] [Semester-Exam At Vanadias] [41] Alvara's Wrath

"What a wonderful exam!" One elf laughed, a broad grin spread across his face.

"Yes, indeed. I didn't expect much when I heard it was going to be a simple game among children," replied another, his tone dripping with condescension. "But this is truly impressive."

"It's surprising, really," another elf added with a smug chuckle. "The other races are doing quite well, despite being... well, lesser beings."

The elf beside him nodded, lips curled in disdain. "Quite so, my Lord. But we all know Elves will always be the strongest."

In the grand VIP box, a gathering of high-ranking elven nobles reclined on plush, opulent sofas, each surrounded by luxurious silks and sparkling crystal goblets. The decor spoke of wealth and privilege—deep emerald drapes hung from towering windows, while gold carvings adorned the walls. Screens filled with images of the students' exam flickered across one side of the box, projecting scenes of battle for their private enjoyment.

Laughter and mocking comments flowed freely as the nobles watched the scenes unfold. The elves lounged, making little attempt to disguise their scorn for the young combatants from other races. No humans, Vampires, werewolves, or other 'lower beings' were allowed within the VIP box. It was an exclusive gathering, a sanctuary for the elven elite, invited specifically to witness the Trinity Eden Academy's grand exam, from the comfort and detachment only wealth could afford.

But among these elven elites, seated alone in a wheelchair draped in elegant fabrics, sat Bryelle. Unlike the others, she felt profoundly out of place in this hall stinking of prejudice. If she had known the atmosphere would be so suffocating, so blatantly hostile toward other races, she might have preferred to sit among the general public. They were still all nobles, but at least they weren't in this toxic cocoon of elven superiority.

Her sister, however, had given her no choice. Alvara, protective to the point of paranoia, had insisted that Bryelle remain in the VIP box for her own safety. Queen Tanya had supported this decision, leaving Bryelle no room to decline.

Behind her stood two of her personal guards, handpicked by Alvara herself. Stoic and watchful, their loyalty belonged to Alvara and Bryelle alone. They had been briefed only to protect, not to watch the events or indulge in conversation. The world outside, and whatever it held beyond these heavily guarded barrier, meant nothing to them.

"I can't see, sister..." Bryelle murmured, her gaze darting from one screen to another. The images moved too fast, or perhaps they were placed poorly from her seat, making it difficult for her to follow the scenes.

Just the night before, she had caught a glimpse of Amael and Alvara together. The sight had left her startled and more than a little confused.

She hadn't been able to hear them, but it seemed that, despite a fair amount of bickering, they were getting along. It was bewildering. Bryelle had no idea that Amael knew Alvara so well, let alone that her sister would exercise such unusual patience with a man, especially a Half. Alvara's disdain for 'halves' was well known among their family. Yet here she was, showing a level of tolerance that had left Bryelle really curious.

Without being able to hear the conversation, she could only guess at the reasons behind Alvara's behavior. But seeing them together, speaking in what looked like a grudging camaraderie, Bryelle couldn't shake her astonishment. It was one thing for her elder sister to entertain anyone outside their social circle; it was another entirely to be patient with someone like Amael, a Half—something Bryelle would have thought impossible until last night.

As she gazed at the flickering screen, Bryelle's lips curved into a gentle smile. She absentmindedly reached for the pendant hanging around her neck, a gift from Amael.

Somehow Amael's presence reminded her of her father's. Perhaps her elder sister felt that same sense of assurance from Amael, though she would never admit it. After all, even when Amael had fallen unconscious, Alvara had chosen to treat him—a Half, no less. The memory still surprised her, but it also gave her hope. Maybe Alvara's long-held biases could shift, if only a little.

Bryelle had even noticed her sister behaving strangely before she'd disappeared from the screens entirely, speaking to what seemed like empty air before slipping away. She hadn't been seen on any screen since, and Bryelle wondered if she had missed something during her brief nap earlier.

With Alvara nowhere to be found, Bryelle's focus returned to Amael's screen, where he was now locked in what appeared to be an intense argument with a werewolf. 'Why is he always quarreling with people?' Bryelle thought amused. It seemed to be his nature to butt heads with everyone he encountered—first the stand owner, then Alvara, and now this werewolf.

But then, her amusement turned to awe as she watched their fight unfold on the screen. The screen's view shifted, zooming in on their fight and projecting it onto the large display for all to see.

The Hybrid flinched, his confident smirk faltering as cold sweat dripped down his brow. Yet a glint of twisted excitement still burned in his eyes as he advanced slowly, savoring the terror in Bryelle's tear-filled gaze. "Wow, what a monster," he muttered, keeping his grin as steady as he could. "But don't look so frightened, little princess. I'll make it quick."

Bryelle bit down on her lip, accepting her fate. She glanced back at Alvara, who was now visibly trapped in anguish, her face contorted in horror—the same look Bryelle hadn't seen since that devastating incident nine years ago in Vanadias, the day their family had been torn apart.

"I—I love you, big sister..." Bryelle whispered, forcing a trembling smile.

Alvara's mouth opened, but no words escaped. But Bryelle didn't wait; she turned around, her eyelids squeezing shut as she braced for the inevitable.

The Hybrid let out a cruel laugh, raising his blade high. And then—

-BOOOOOM!

A golden blast erupted, colliding with the Hybrid with such force that his body was flung across the VIP box like a ragdoll, crashing into the window and shattering the screens. The once-impenetrable barrier disintegrated into fragments, dissolving into wisps of golden light as Alvara stepped forward, her mana seething like a storm around her.

Behind her, Bryelle slumped unconscious in her wheelchair, overcome by the overwhelming surge of Alvara's mana. Alvara's face was pale, her bloodied arm trembling, but her grip on her golden sword was strong.

Golden vines wove around Bryelle's unconscious form, encasing her in a protective cocoon as Alvara advanced, her expression cold and merciless.

A murmur rippled through the remaining elves in the VIP zone as they felt her power flooding the room like a tidal wave. "It's Princess Alvara!" Someone gasped, and in an instant, every elf present fell to their knees, recognizing the fury of their princess. But Alvara's mana continued to intensify, and one by one, the nobles succumbed, collapsing into unconsciousness under its weight.

The Hybrid, embedded in the cracked window frame, let out a low groan as he regained his senses. His eyes opened, only to widen in terror as he saw Alvara striding toward him, her every step sending waves of dread crashing over him. His body froze in utter fear, his instincts screaming for him to flee, but his limbs refused to respond.

A sickening feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him as a golden vine shot forward, twisting and stabbing into his stomach, tearing through flesh.

"AAAAARGHHH!" His scream echoed through the hall, but Alvara didn't flinch. "Who sent you." "U–UTOPIA!" The Hybrid's answer came out in a desperate, trembling gasp, his terror so complete he didn't dare lie.

A brief silence hung heavy in the air. "I see."

Without hesitation, Alvara's golden vines sprouted from her mana, snaking toward him with deadly precision. In one swift motion, they forced their way into his mouth, cutting off his scream. His eyes widened, rolling up in pain as the thorn-covered vines lacerated him from within, tearing apart his organs with mercilessness. His body began to convulse, bulging grotesquely as the golden glow of Alvara's mana illuminated his veins, his flesh straining against the assault.

The Hybrid's frame shuddered violently, spasming as the thorned vines tore through him, until, with a sickening crack, his body erupted. Flesh, blood, and shards of bone splattered across the VIP box, staining the white walls and floor in a gruesome display.

Not a single drop reached Alvara. The golden vines shielded her, coiling protectively around her as they withdrew from the carnage. She remained untouched, her expression pale and cold. With a final glance at the aftermath, Alvara turned on her heel. The cold indifference in her eyes masked a fury like no other—a fury that had been ignited the moment she saw her little sister trembling, terrified and vulnerable. Whatever Utopia or Sancta Vedelia wanted no longer mattered to her; their intentions, their ambitions—all were insignificant.

They had dared to threaten Bryelle. They had made her cry, made her fear for her life. And for that, Alvara would make them suffer.

With a graceful motion, she lifted Bryelle's unconscious form, encased in a protective cocoon of golden vines. Without a word, Alvara rose into the sky, her golden eyes fixed on the distant Teraquin Royal Palace.