I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 694: [The Rewritten Lost Past] [1]

The battlefield trembled.

-BOOOOM!

A powerful shockwave ripped through the field, shaking the very earth between the Celesta Kingdom and the Arvatra Empire. This stretch of land had been chosen again and again throughout history, a cursed ground where countless wars between the two rival nations had left scars deep in the soil.

High above that scarred land, two figures clashed in midair. Sparks, flames, and lightning lit up the night.

One of them was a woman with flowing, dark blue hair, Princess Lisandra Arvatra, heir to the Empire that bore her name.

Opposite her floated a figure whose beauty and bearing blurred the lines between masculine and feminine. Platinum-blond hair glimmered under the moonlight, framing a face that seemed carved from ice. This was Prince Alphonse Sylvain Celesta of the Celesta Kingdom.

Both of them carried an otherworldly aura.

Their duel raged with such ferocity that even the knights below, warriors hardened by years of bloodshed, dared not fight near them. The two leaders burned too brightly; their battle was a tempest that lesser men would be swallowed whole by. Still, soldiers from both sides couldn’t help but pause mid-combat, glancing upward in awe at the spectacle, as if watching gods trade blows.

Lisandra lunged first, her rapier gleaming. ”What’s wrong, Alphonse? Struggling against a mere princess? And you call yourself a King!” Her mocking voice carried even through the thunder of their blows. With a sharp thrust, her weapon unleashed a wave of searing dark-blue flames that carved the air like a tidal wave of fire.

Sylvain grimaced at her words, lightning crackling across their blade. In an instant, they vanished and reappeared behind Lisandra, sword slicing down in a flash of silver lightning.

Lisandra spun, her rapier intercepting the strike with perfect timing.

-BOOOM!

The collision tore the sky apart. Shockwaves rippled down to the battlefield, flattening tents and tossing men aside like leaves in a storm. And yet, neither fighter yielded.

The duel continued. Minutes blurred into hours. They clashed again and again, flames against lightning, rapier against sword. To those watching from below, it was a fight that seemed endless, a battle that might never see resolution. Finally, as the moon reached its peak, both combatants pulled back, exchanging no words. It was an unspoken agreement. The fight would resume tomorrow.

Both armies retreated for the night.

...

...

In the Celesta camp, fires burned low as soldiers patched wounds and whispered over bowls of soup. The air was heavy with exhaustion, but the talk of the camp was alive with excitement.

”Did you see the fight today?” One knight muttered, eyes wide.

”Of course I did. His Highness and that woman... they’re on a completely different level. Like monsters.”

”Don’t call her strong! Prince Alphonse will crush that evil witch. Just wait!” Another spat, glaring into the fire.

”Easy to say,” a third replied with a shrug. ”But how many times have they fought now? And neither has won. Makes you wonder...”

They laughed nervously, but beneath their bravado was a truth they didn’t dare say aloud: Princess Lisandra was no less fearsome than their own Prince.

And Prince Alphonse — or rather, Alphonse, as they truly were beneath the name — could hear every word. The tents offered no barrier; the voices of her knights reached her ears all too easily.

Of course, she couldn’t tell them the truth. That their legendary duel was not fought with the intent to kill. That she and Lisandra, despite the bloody rivalry their nations forced upon them, were holding back every time.

In the eyes of the world, they were sworn enemies. But in truth? They were the closest either of them had to a true friend.

It was a cruel fate. A Princess of Celesta and a Princess of Arvatra — born into roles that demanded they hate each other, fated to spill blood until only one remained standing. The world expected nothing less than one of their deaths to bring an end to the war.

”P–Prince Alphonse!”

Alphonse emerged from her tent, and the nearby knights instantly rose to attention. Their gazes followed her, waiting for orders. But she spoke right after.

”No. I need time alone.”

And before they could protest, she vanished into the night.