I Am The Game's Villain

I slipped to the side, Trinity Nihil already arcing in a vicious swing aimed at his flank. For a split second, I thought I had him—but his shield snapped back into place, intercepting the blow.

”Anathemas Fire!” I roared.

The blade erupted in purple flame. The torrent of flames swallowed Ernest whole, washing over his shield, his armor, his body. The courtyard shook as the heat rippled outward, searing the grass into ash.

”U–Urgh!” Ernest’s grunt tore through the blaze. He staggered under the assault, his shield glowing red-hot as the purple fire clawed at him mercilessly. The Olphean aura clung to his form like a second skin, dulling the damage, but it wasn’t enough.

Vysindra’s flames were no ordinary flames.

And still... he resisted.

I narrowed my eyes. Even engulfed by the fire, he stood, shield raised, amber veins glowing furiously as he held against me.

So this was the strength of a 9th Ascension.

This wouldn’t end. Not like this. I had no desire to kill him, and he clearly wasn’t aiming to kill me either. Our clash was a stalemate born of necessity, not bloodlust.

If I wanted to bring him down—I’d need to surprise him. To break his guard in one decisive instant.

I’ll use Wrath then.

The thought had barely formed when the world screamed danger.

My instincts howled.

I turned, raising my arm just in time—

-CRACK!

Agony shot through me as a brutal kick slammed into my guard, bones fracturing instantly under the sheer force. The impact hurled me across the courtyard, my body skidding through grass and dirt until I ground to a halt, clutching my arm with a hiss of pain.

I forced my head up, vision swimming, only to see a figure step into the courtyard, bathed in a silver glow that made the air itself tremble.

My eyes narrowed.

”Amael...”

He stood there, his entire body glowing with the Falkrona Silver mana.