I Am The Game's Villain-Chapter 734: [Final Event] [Blood Moon Festival] [16] Investigating With Victor
"Where is that bastard? I’m going to kill him!" Rodolf stormed up beside me and roared as he swept his gaze across the ruined street below.
I’d seen my share of obsessive siblings, but a niece-con was a new brand of weird even for me. I forced down a grimace and shrugged. "I lied to get you up here."
Rodolf froze mid-turn, puzzled. "Huh?"
"Look." I pointed off the rooftop toward the wreckage below.
He stared. "What... happened here?"
"Explosion," I said. "Must’ve gone off tonight—loud enough to drown the fireworks."
He frowned. "Yeah, there were fireworks, so I thought—didn’t really pay attention."
This wasn’t fireworks clearly. The way the stone was pitted and the smell crawling on the breeze said something far uglier had gone off. "This isn’t normal. You’ve got that ridiculous nose of yours—can you pick up anyone familiar?" I asked.
Rodolf didn’t need more prodding. He dropped from the rooftop. The knights milling about barely registered as he pushed past them and started turning over smashed beams and smoldering rubble with rough motions.
A minute later he froze, eyes going wide enough to look almost unhinged. "N—No... it can’t be..."
I vaulted down to stand beside him. "What? You found something?"
He swallowed like he was choking on air. "I smell Roda’s blood...and my bro’s... Jefer’s."
My eyes widened hearing that.
"Oi...don’t tell me they’re dead. That can’t be right...?" Rodolf’s voice frayed. I could feel him on the verge of losing it.
I gripped his shoulders immediately. "Calm down. There’s nobody here right now. I was here earlier; look at these knights, they are still looking for them, so they might not be—don’t jump to dead yet."
He blinked, trying to rein in the panic. "Y—yeah. They have to be..."
"Then go find them." I said. "Right now. They could be in danger. If we haven’t heard from them and there’s blood here, something’s wrong. They could need help. Don’t waste time."
"Yeah—yeah! I’ll find them!" He shoved off the ground and left in hurry.
I watched his back until he left my sight, then let my gaze slide back to the wreckage below.
Jefer. Roda.
If I had to stitch together a theory from the few jagged threads I had, it went like this: Roda had been baited—used to get at Jefer. If Jefer was the real target, that narrowed suspects down. Only someone with the nerve to strike the Moonfangs head-on would risk this kind of play.
Cyril’s name drifted into my head as expected. Daring to attack Roda Moonfang and the Head of the Moonfang House? That guy clearly thought he had a road straight to victory tomorrow. Whatever he was preparing, he was full of confidence.
Shit—I forgot to ask Rodolf if anyone else was missing besides Roda.
My stomach did a cold flip. I tapped out a quick message to John and waited; his replies usually came fast when something weird was happening. He quickly sent me the list then.
Excluding Roda, Percy, Selene, Earth, Sirius, and Sephira were all absent that morning.
What the hell was going on?
I texted John again.
[Earth is clearly up to something, you know that right?]
His reply was immediate and half frantic.
[Yeah, but I don’t know where he might have gone. I’ll find that bastard and cripple him.]
John had changed since he started seeing Amelia. He used to be the kind of guy who’d charge first and ask questions later; now he sounded... softer, like he’d spent a little too much time thinking about consequences. He’d have probably hunted Earth down the second he disappeared.
However, Earth was the adopted grandson of Duncan Tepes. You couldn’t just kill someone with that kind of family behind them without a whole political storm. Reiner might use that just to separate Amelia from John actually.
Still—crippling him? That, at least, sounded doable. If John had a reason, he might go further.
[I’m not respecting the Group number anymore.] He texted next. [I’m staying with Amelia’s group. Celeste is there too.]
[Yeah, keep an eye on her.]
Then I opened Victor’s contact and hit call. He picked up almost instantly.
["Hey—"]
"Don’t be loud. Get away from the others, Victor." I cut him off before he could shout my name and have everyone within earshot could hear.
["Got it."] He said, voice immediately lower. After a few tense seconds he went on. ["Where the fuck were you, man? Everyone’s been worried. Celeste—"]
"We don’t have time for that. Things are worse than we thought. Roda was attacked."
There was a strangled noise on the other end. ["What?!"]
"Quiet." I said. "Rodolf’s already searching. I think she’s still alive, but there’s another problem. Selene’s missing too. Right?"
Victor’s voice froze for a moment. ["Wait, Amael, don’t tell me—"]
"Yeah." I didn’t sugarcoat it. "I’m pretty sure something happened to her as well. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Do you have any idea where she could be?"
Silence stretched. I could almost hear Victor chewing on the air between us, trying to fit pieces together.
"Victor?"
Finally he said annoyed, ["I think I know... Cyril said something weird to her back then. Damn it."]
As expected Cyril was involved.
"Meet me at the Royal Castle," I said. "Wait for me there."
He agreed with a few curt words, and then I ended the call. No point standing around; every minute counted.
I pulled on my hood and left.
***
"Damn it!"
Rodolf’s snarl echoed through the air as he vaulted from rooftop to rooftop, his boots hitting the tiles with heavy thuds that cracked the silence. Each jump drew startled looks from vampires and late-night wanderers below—other races alike pausing mid-step to stare up at the werewolf leaping across the cityscape.
In the Moonfang Kingdom, this kind of rooftop sprint was as normal as breathing. But here, in the heart of Ravenia, the vampire capital, it was anything but. To them, it looked like a rogue beast prowling their territory.
Rodolf didn’t care.
He gritted his teeth, fangs slightly visible, his expression twisted in anguish. He whispered between clenched teeth, "I won’t lose you again..."
Roda.
That name alone made his chest ache. For the older Roda, he had done nothing truly worthy of being called an uncle. All he’d managed was to give her a comforting hug... before she died later. He’d sworn to himself that day he would never let her suffer again. Not this time. Not again.
He had already lost too much—tracing back to Earth.
"Jefer... just where the hell are you?" Rodolf growled, voice hoarse. The only small comfort was the faint, lingering scent of Jefer’s blood on the wind—it told him Roda wasn’t alone. But it also terrified him. If Jefer was bleeding, then things were already bad.
"What the fuck were you even doing here in the first place..." He muttered under his breath, frustration boiling over. What business did Jefer have in Ravenia? It was too strange. Nothing about this felt right.
He landed on another rooftop and stopped for a moment, his breathing ragged. The metallic scent of blood in the air was overwhelming. For most, the city smelled like fine wine and marble, maybe the faint sweetness of perfumed incense burning in the alleys. But for a werewolf, for him, Ravenia smelled perfume and blood.
Too many scents. Too many lives in one place. It was impossible to pick out one trail.
"Useless," he said, scanning the streets below with narrowed eyes. His phone buzzed faintly in his hand, but there were no messages. No calls. Nothing.
That silence was heavier than any noise.
Then—something flickered. A faint ripple in the air. His head snapped toward it immediately.
That trace of Prana—he’d know it anywhere.
Roda.
In the same instant, he bolted forward, the world around him blurring as he exploded into motion. The tiles shattered under his takeoff, and he shot through the streets like a golden blur, following the invisible thread of her essence. Her presence grew stronger with every leap, her voice faint but trembling in his ears.
"Roda..."
He poured more Prana into his body, coating his legs, his arms, even his claws. The aura crackled around him dangerously. His speed spiked with one more push and—
There!
Down below, in the middle of a blood-soaked street cornered, he saw her. Roda—bleeding, barely standing, surrounded by armored Ravenian Knights. Jefer lay a few meters away, motionless, his chest rising only slightly.
Rodolf’s pupils slit sharply.
His rage detonated.
"You bastards!!" He roared.
The knights turned, startled—but it was too late.
Rodolf crashed down like a thunderbolt, his hand wrapped in burning Prana, and swung.
-BOOM!
The shockwave tore through the square, sending a dozen soldiers flying like rag dolls. He took another step forward, moving faster than their eyes could track, his kicks shattering armor and bone in the same motion. The air rang with the sound of steel twisting and bodies crashing into stone.
When the last one fell, Rodolf stood panting amid the wreckage, claws dripping crimson.
He turned toward Roda right after.
Roda, barely conscious, breathing shallowly, eyes glassy with exhaustion. When she saw him, her lips trembled and tears finally broke free. She fell to her knees.
"U–Uncle..."
"Roda!!"
He was at her side in a heartbeat, catching her before she could collapse completely. His voice broke as he checked her injuries. "What the hell happened?! Damn it!"
He looked over at Jefer who was barely alive, his chest faintly rising and falling.
He had never seen his brother in such a state before.
"I–It’s my fault..." Roda sobbed. "Uncle tried to protect me and I—"
"Who did this?" Rodolf asked, his tone dark and shaking. "Tell me, Roda. Who attacked you?"
Her tears fell harder now, her words catching between sobs.
"B–Brother... Percy... he called me and..."
She couldn’t finish. The rest was lost in a choke of grief.
Rodolf’s expression turned to stone, his eyes darkening to pure black.
"Percy..."
***
"Amael, here!"
I heard Victor’s voice before I saw him, waving me down at the entrance of the castle.
"I’ve been waiting for you forever!" He complained the moment I approached.
"I was on the other side of the city," I replied, catching my breath a bit.
His eyes widened remembering about Roda. "Right—about Roda! You said she was attacked! Did Rodolf find her yet?"
I shook my head. "No idea. But if it’s Rodolf, trust me—he won’t stop until he does."
Victor sighed slowly and nodded, but I could see it in his face—he wanted to go search too. Still, we both knew Selene was the bigger concern right now. She’d been mentally unstable since Elizabeth’s death, and if Cyril was involved, leaving her alone was the worst possible idea.
"Let’s move," I said.
He nodded and took the lead. "He’s with me," Victor told the guards as we reached the gate leading into the castle. They eyed me warily for a moment, but once they recognized Victor, they let us through without further question.
Inside, the castle felt emptier than expected. Most of the professors and students were still outside for the continuation of the educational trip, which meant we practically had the place to ourselves.
"Are you sure we’ll find Selene here?" Victor asked, his voice echoing slightly in the vast hallway. "I looked around earlier—no sign of her."
"I’m not sure," I said. "We’re here to look for clues, not people. Where’s Lazarus’s quarters?"
He pointed ahead. "That way. Follow me."
We made our way deeper into the royal wing, our footsteps muffled against the crimson carpet. The castle’s architecture was breathtaking, quiet flashier than the Castle of Valachia.
We finally stopped in front of a massive double door. It was closed tight.
Victor frowned. "Why is it locked? It shouldn’t be."
"Who knows," I muttered, and without hesitation, I slammed my foot into the wood.
The ornate door splintered inward with a sharp crack, the sound echoing down the empty corridor.
Victor grimaced. "Right... subtle as always."
"No time for subtlety," I said, stepping inside.
The room was a mess—papers scattered everywhere, drawers half-open, the faint scent of dust and old books thick in the air. Shelves that once held neatly arranged tomes were now half-empty, and the curtains had been drawn tightly. Victor quickly turned on the light giving a better sight around.
"Man," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "After he got imprisoned, people raided this place top to bottom looking for whatever schemes he left behind. I guess they didn’t find anything."
"Maybe not," I said, scanning the room. "But they might have missed a few things."
He raised a brow. "You think so?"
"I know so."
The advantage of knowing the Gamestory was that I could see the patterns others couldn’t. The small details that didn’t make sense to them—those were what I needed.
I crossed to the desk, where several books lay open in a half-circle, their yellowed pages filled with handwritten notes. My eyes narrowed when I recognized the name scrawled across multiple files.
"The Vampire Witch..." I muttered.
Victor came closer, peering over my shoulder. "Yeah. My grandfather was obsessed with her. Cyril too, actually. That’s what got him interested in Selene in the first place."
"Because she was the Vessel," I said, flipping through the pages. "But a vessel is useless without its contents—and those were within Elizabeth."
"Yeah." He sighed. "I remember how disappointed he was when Elizabeth died."
I frowned. "I’ll never understand him."
Victor let out a short, bitter laugh. "I grew up with him, and I don’t either. He was... nice, at first. Gentle, even. But then he started spending all his time with him."
The hatred in his voice when he said ’him’ didn’t need clarification. I knew exactly who he meant.
"Lazarus Raven," I said quietly.
Victor’s teeth clenched. "Don’t even call him that. He’s not a father. Not to me."
I nodded.
I turned to another page, scanning the notes again—drawings of mana circles, anatomical sketches, old vampire spells written with complex mana circles. Cyril and Lazarus’s obsession hadn’t been just academic it seems.
Dangerous too.
"That’s good you found your mother," I said, remembering Thelma at once—Victor’s mother, now finally back. In the Gamestory there had been whispers about Victor’s mother, hints that never quite added up, so even I had felt a small surprise when the truth came out.
"Right?" Victor grinned. "By the way, she was kind of disappointed she didn’t get to see you, you know?"
Right—Thelma Olphean had been taken before Amael was born. She probably never even knew Alea was pregnant before that trash kidnapped her.
"After this is over, come with me," Victor said, rubbing his chin like he was imagining a future with family dinners. "I’m kinda glad we ended up cousins. I always knew we had something in common!"
"Right..." I answered, awkwardness flattening my smile. I was genuinely glad for him—he’d gotten something back he’d been missing—but I couldn’t pull myself into his kind of joy. Some halves were forever gone for me.
I closed the book and hunted for other files. The room smelled of dust and old paper, and moonlight cut through the drawn curtains in narrow blades. My fingers continued brushing across brittle pages carefully.
"Damn it, do we have to look everywhere, man? Selene could be in danger," Victor complained, clearly restless.
"She won’t be in direct danger—Cyril needs her alive," I said. "But if we don’t know what he’s planning with Selene, we won’t have any countermeasures when it happens."
Victor’s nod was reluctant. "You’re right."
"Let’s focus on anything about the Vampire Witch," I told him, turning toward the rows of books. "He was looking for some kind of spell."
My hand slid across spines until it hit a volume shoved further back than the others. The shelf gave under my touch—and then a mechanism clicked.
"Huh?"
"No way," Victor breathed. I wasn’t any less stunned. The shelf swung aside with a whisper of gears and exposed a narrow, dim room beyond.
I stepped inside and pulled out my phone as a torch. The smaller room felt older than the rest of the quarters; the air was colder, drier, like a sealed tomb. Ancient tomes lined the walls, their leather cracked, their titles obscured. On a small desk near the far wall, parchments lay unfurled, inked with symbols that crawled across the page like frozen veins. Complex mana circles were drawn in meticulous detail, and where ink met paper, faint, dark stains suggested something more than ink had been used.
My breath caught. The lettering wasn’t any modern tongue I knew—it had the jagged, ancient reminding me of the ones I had seen in the Enigma Dungeon.
"Blood Moon Spell," Victor whispered beside me.
"What?" I looked up, surprised. "You can read that?"
"A little," he said, frowning as he took a parchment in both hands. "All these parchments—trials, rituals... everything points to a Blood Moon Spell."
I scanned the pages.
"Knowledge alone isn’t enough," I said. "When the Vampire Witch used it, she needed ten years to recover. The original body—she was completely exhausted, and only after a decade did she get a new Vessel."
Cyril shouldn’t be able to pull off that caliber of spell...
"No," Victor said.
"What?"
Victor swallowed audibly and looked at me with something like dread. "They don’t care if it’s perfect," he said. "They only want to use it on a smaller scale. It could still work, right?"
My head snapped up. "No. Even on a small scale, without Elizabeth’s blood—" I stopped.
I widened my eyes right after.
Wait. Don’t tell me that bastard...
