I Am The Game's Villain - Chapter 395 Samael [2]

395  Samael [2]

“Annabelle!”

Celeste’s voice was thick with worry as she called out. Panic clawed at her chest as she looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Just moments ago, they had been under attack, surrounded by enemies. But then, without warning, their attackers had fled, leaving them in a sudden and eerie silence. It should have been a relief, but instead, it filled Celeste with a growing sense of dread.

She turned to Annabelle, who had been unharmed until now. But something was terribly wrong. Annabelle’s skin had turned ashen, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. Her eyes fluttered as she muttered a name, barely audible.

“E–Edward…”

The sound of his name sent a shiver down Celeste’s spine. She clenched her blade, her knuckles white. “Amael?!” She called out, her voice tight with fear. “Uncle! Please, take care of Anna!”

“I–I will!” her uncle replied. He moved to Annabelle’s side as Celeste took off, driven by a sense of urgency she couldn’t explain.

Something was wrong. Deeply, terribly wrong. It was a feeling she couldn’t shake, a dark premonition that seemed to gnaw at her very soul. She didn’t know why, but she was certain that something dreadful awaited her.

She didn’t have to search long. The screams led her straight to it.

The closer she got, the more intense the feeling of doom became. It gnawed at her resolve, whispering that she should turn back, that death awaited her if she continued. But she pushed forward, her determination outweighing the fear.

When she arrived, the sight before her froze her in place.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and death. The ground was slick with gore, littered with the remains of those who had fallen. Blood pooled and splattered across the earth, mingling with broken bones and mangled flesh. Distorted bodies lay strewn about, twisted and broken beyond recognition, their limbs contorted at unnatural angles. Every corpse wore an expression of sheer terror, their last moments of life captured in a gruesome display of horror.

The most horrifying sight of all was the swarm of leeches, their slimy, bloated bodies undulating as they slithered across the blood-soaked ground, drawn to the remains of the fallen. They latched onto the corpses, sucking greedily, devouring flesh and blood with a sickening eagerness.

“GYAAAA!!!!”

“H–HELP! GYAA!!”

“SAVE ME!!!”

The desperate cries for help echoed through the air, pulling Celeste from her shocked stupor. Her gaze lifted slowly, almost unwillingly, as if her mind knew that whatever she was about to see would be worse than anything before.

And then she saw him.

Edward stood amidst the carnage, a nightmarish figure against the backdrop of death. His appearance sent a wave of cold dread through her. His skin was ghostly pale, drained of all color, and his eyes—she couldn’t see them. They were hidden beneath the shadows of his brow, leaving only his twisted, unnerving smile visible. It was a smile that didn’t belong to the Edward she knew; it was the smile of a man lost to madness.

From his back, a mass of black, writhing tentacles emerged, each one alive with malevolent intent. They lashed out, striking down the remaining men with brutal efficiency. Some of the men attempted to flee, their screams mingling with the squelching sounds of the tentacles, but it was futile. The tentacles moved with unnatural speed, catching up to their victims and dragging them back into the fray.

Celeste stood frozen, her mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. For what felt like an eternity, she couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. She was paralyzed, every instinct in her body screaming at her to run, to get as far away as possible from the horrors before her.

The leeches, the tentacles…?

If she was touched by any of them, she knew she would die. The certainty of it clawed at her mind, but there was something else, something even more terrifying.

It was the scythe in Edward’s hand.

There was something deeply, terrifyingly familiar about it. A sense of imminent danger radiated from the weapon, a cold, creeping dread that felt like it was tightening around her heart. It was as if the scythe itself knew her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something from her darkest nightmares.

“Amael…” Celeste whispered with sorrow.

It was him, yet it wasn’t.

The figure before her bore the likeness of Amael, but she knew—deep down, she knew—that something had happened to him. Something had twisted him into this monstrous version of himself.

She should leave. She should turn around and flee, wait for the madness to end. They were enemies now, after all. It wasn’t her place to save him. Eventually he would be back to normal… n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Her thoughts wavered as she turned to go, her feet dragging against the bloodied ground. But something deep within her heart protested. She clenched her fist against her chest, feeling the rapid, painful pounding of her heart.

Pain.

That’s all she felt as she watched him, as she imagined walking away from him like this. It was as if something within her would shatter if she let him remain in this state. She didn’t want to see him like this, didn’t want to remember him this way.

Was it really the right choice to leave him like this?

“No…”

She whispered the word, the resolve in her voice growing stronger. Turning back to Amael, she made her decision.

“P–Please, help me,” she pleaded softly. “Help me save him. I—I don’t want to lose him.”

Her words were directed to the Holy Tree of Eden, the divine force she had always hated on. As if in answer to her plea, a warmth spread through her body, and she felt something materialize in her right hand. Slowly, it took shape—a beautiful white tree, its roots intertwined in an unique, delicate pattern, the emblem of the Prophetess.

The surge of energy that followed was like a bolt of lightning, filling her with renewed strength and courage. The fear that had paralyzed her moments before was gone, replaced by a burning determination.

Gripping the hilt of her blade with newfound strength, she charged toward Edward, her eyes fixed on the twisted figure that had once been Amael.

GRIAAA!!

The leeches reacted instantly, their beady eyes snapping toward her, wide with hunger as they found a new prey. The tentacles, having finished their grisly work, turned in unison, their dark, writhing forms converging on Celeste, ready to strike.

The monstrous swarm surged toward her with horrifying speed.

-BAM!

The ground erupted in a shower of dirt and debris as one of the dark tentacles struck where Celeste had been only an instant before. She had anticipated the attack, narrowly evading it with a nimble leap. Her right eye glowed with an ethereal white light as she continued her desperate rush toward Edward.

Three more tentacles lashed out, their dark, sinuous forms whipping through the air with deadly intent. Celeste knew that even the slightest touch from these abominations could mean her end. The urgency of her situation was clear: she had to avoid contact at all costs.

Summoning all her focus, she closed her eyes for a brief moment, drawing upon the vision granted by her powers. When she opened them again, both eyes blazed with a brilliant, pure white light. With a fleeting glimpse of the future, she saw a moment of opportunity: a chance to leap over a root and strike.

-BAM!

Her blade swung through the air fiercely, but the tentacle was seemingly impervious. The impact was hollow, and the sword’s edge barely left a mark. A sudden, numbing chill raced through her arm, and she was forced to release her grip on the sword.

“Urgh…”

As if in response to her failed attack, the third tentacle shot toward her with alarming speed, aiming directly for her head. Panic surged within her as she peered into the future once more, only to see her own impending death. Her eyes clenched shut in a desperate bid to avoid the inevitable.

But then, with a flash of pure white light, the tentacle was severed just inches from her face. It fell stabbing the tentacle in front her with a heavy spurt. A pristine white sword, gleaming with divine brilliance, had sliced through the tentacle with unerring precision. It was Trinity Nihil.

Celeste, dazed and disoriented, looked around in confusion. The sword seemed to materialize out of nowhere, its blade pulsating with an intense, sacred energy. As her fingers closed around the hilt, a shiver of recognition and profound relief coursed through her. It was as if Trinity Nihil was the missing part of her soul, completing her in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend.

Her body radiated with a blinding, pure white light, and her hair transformed to a snowy, ethereal hue. The power of Trinity Nihil infused her with renewed strength and clarity. She swung Trinity Nihil, severing the tentacle that had ensnared her and propelling herself toward Edward.

Four more tentacles erupted from Edward’s back, their dark, writhing forms converging on her.

“Lend me your strength,” Celeste’s voice turned cold and her eyes became sharp.

Trinity Nihil responded to her plea, its blade glowing with an intense, divine light. With both hands gripping the hilt, Celeste brought the sword down in a powerful arc.

An icy wave of divine energy surged forth, spreading out in a crescent of freezing light. It struck the tentacles and Edward with an overwhelming force, encasing them in a solid, pure white ice. For a moment, the dark, sinister aura around Edward was subdued, the ice holding him in a frozen prison.

But the dark energy around Edward surged once more, battling against the icy confines. The ice cracked and shattered as Edward’s sinister power broke free. His gaze, once hidden beneath a veil of madness, finally met Celeste’s eyes. The twisted smile was gone, replaced by a more profound, unsettling expression.

Celeste’s gaze narrowed. She wasn’t focusing on Edward himself but on something beyond him, a presence that felt all too familiar and terrifying. Her white eyes, seeing more than just the physical realm, discerned a shadowy figure with a black blindfold and a distorted, malicious smile. This figure had its arms wrapped around Edward’s neck.

“I won’t let you,” she muttered coldly. “Release.”

Celeste’s whispered command was barely audible over the chaos. As if in response to her will, Trinity Nihil erupted in a blinding flash of white light that surged upwards, piercing the sky. The brilliance of the light was so intense it momentarily overwhelmed everything else in the vicinity.

When the radiant flare subsided, Trinity Nihil had undergone a transformation. The sword’s blade had lengthened, its white surface now even more lustrous and ethereal. The hilt was adorned with two delicate white wings that extended outward, their details gleaming with divine energy. The runes inscribed along the blade now glowed with a purer, more intense shade of white, enhancing the sword’s celestial appearance.

Celeste, feeling the sword’s newfound power thrumming through her, maneuvered deftly behind Edward. With a strong grip on the hilt, she swung Trinity Nihil towards the base of the tentacles. The blade cut through the source of the nightmare, severing the tendrils with precise efficiency.

In an instant, the tentacles and their base disintegrated into particles of white sand, scattered by the wind. Edward, now devoid of the grotesque appendages that had controlled him, fell to his knees. He was like a puppet whose strings had been cut, collapsing under the weight of his release from the dark influence.

“Amael…”

Celeste’s face softened, a look of profound relief washing over her features. She let go of Trinity Nihil, which vanished in a shimmer of light, and knelt before Edward. Her eyes were full of concern as she examined his face. His color had returned, and the sinister black veil that had covered his eyes was gone.

“Amael!” She called out, her voice trembling with worry as she gently shook his shoulders.

Edward’s head slumped forward, resting weakly against her. His condition was alarming; he was drained and vulnerable.

“I—I will take you to a healer, wait!” Celeste said, trying to rise with him. But then she felt a firm grip on her shoulders. Edward’s hand was clutching her with almost an desperate strength, his grip painful but Celeste barely noticed the discomfort; her focus was entirely on him.

“Please…” His voice, though strained and hoarse, carried a deep emotional weight.

“Amael?” Celeste’s gaze fell upon him, her eyes searching his face despite the shadows obscuring it. The broken tone in his voice was unlike anything she had ever heard from him before.

“Can I hug you a little…?” Amael’s request was so fraught with vulnerability that it left Celeste speechless. She had never seen him so weak, so fragile.

“O–Of course…” She stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The moment she gave her consent, Amael wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close with a tight embrace. Celeste felt a rush of warmth flood through her, but as she held him, she realized his body was ice-cold—far colder than it should be.

Sensing his shivering, she hugged him back tightly, trying to convey warmth and comfort. They remained there, kneeling amidst the carnage, wrapped in each other’s arms, under the darkening sky. Celeste held Amael, allowing him to cling to her for as long as he needed. As his strength waned and his body began to slide down, she attempted to rise, but his grip on her clothing remained firm despite he fell asleep.

With a lovely smile, Celeste drew Amael’s head closer to her chest, her arms cradling him gently. Her heart ached with an unspoken love, and as she looked down at him, her lips parted hesitantly.

“I…I really fell in love with you, Amael.”