I Am The Game's Villain

Idris straightened slightly, surprised by her words. ”Youʼre the only one I trust to see this through,” Priscilla continued earnestly. ”Even if it doesnʼt fully succeed, your presence will secure Valachiaʼs northern passage. In the worst- case scenario, if Valachia falls, weʼll still have a path to retreat into the Olphean Kingdom or Central Vedelia.”

The weight of her responsibilities was crushing, especially in the absence of their parents. Priscilla, though still in her late twenties and lacking the decades of experience others might have, carried herself with the responsibilities she had as their leader. She had no choice but to rise to the occasion-for her people, her homeland, and the city of Valachia that had nurtured her.

Idris smiled in return, almost happy to see his sister all grown up. ”You can count on me.” ”But wonʼt reducing Valachiaʼs forces further leave us even more vulnerable?” Cylien asked, worried.

Priscilla nodded again. ”It will, but so will Elashor Sarkianʼs forces. This strategy isnʼt without risk, but it forces their hand. Theyʼll face the same struggle we do: holding out long enough to win.”

Idris stood up. ”Iʼll leave immediately to ready the army. You focus on holding Valachia,

Priscilla at least until Father returns.”

Priscilla let out a tired sigh. ”Iʼll do everything in my power to ensure Valachia doesnʼt fall,” she replied. ”You donʼt need to worry about that.” ”Valachia will never fall, aunt.”

A sudden voice interrupted them.

All heads turned toward the speaker seated at the far end of the table. She had been silent until now, lounging with an air of nonchalance. Her legs were casually propped on the table, the blood-soaked soles of her black boots in plain view.

Her knee-length black armor dress was drenched, the fabric clinging to her form, darkened by blood that was clearly not her own. Crimson streaks trailed down her legs, staining the torn black high socks that clung to her pale skin. Even the visible portions of her thighs bore the marks of blood smeared and glistening.

Elizabeth Tepes held a black rapier in one hand, her pale, delicate finger tracing the bloodied blade. At her touch, small droplets of blood rose from the steel, hovering in the air before following the slow movement of her finger.

Without breaking her gaze, Elizabeth opened her mouth, and the droplets floated in, vanishing down her throat. ”!”

A shiver ran through her body, her crimson eyes snapping wide open. The vertical slit pupils within them pulsed violently, radiating an instinctive thirst. Her bloodlust thickened the air, pressing down on everyone in the room like an oppressive fog. Only Priscilla and Idris managed to remain calm used to Elizabethʼs bloodlust.

Cylien grimaced, instinctively leaning back in her seat. She had felt Elizabethʼs bloodlust before, and even now, it was as suffocating as ever.

Rodolf, however, simply stared at Elizabeth whereas Earth had a nervous smile.

She looked clearly like the old Elizabeth. ”Valachia will never fall,” Elizabeth repeated, her blood-red lips curling into a smirk.