I Am The Game's Villain-Chapter 761: [Second Game] [Epilogue] [1]

Amael died.

Or maybe Edward Falkrona.

It was hard to tell who he really was anymore—especially for those who had only known him for a short time. But his death, whoever he had been in the end, left a scar.

Christina Olphean was crying loudly in Alea’s arms.

She had finally found her brother Amael... and lost something else.

Someone who had become very important to her. Only when she watched him vanish, watched him break and disappear in front of her eyes, did she understand how much space he had taken in her heart. Realizing it now, at the very end, shattered her.

The only other one crying was Milleia.

She was on her knees, on the spot where he had disappeared, fingers digging into the broken ground as silent tears fell one after another. Her lips moved weakly around his name, as if saying it enough times might pull him back. It didn’t. She stared at the empty space with a disbelief that refused to crack into acceptance.

Kenia and the other girls could only stay close and hold her shoulders, whispering useless comforts. They hadn’t known Edward. They didn’t know what had happened between them a year ago. To them, he was the man responsible for the carnage around them. Some of them, if they were honest, felt a small, guilty sense of relief that he was gone.

But even they couldn’t ignore Milleia’s grief.

They had never seen her cry like this.

Milleia was always the bright one.

Standing a little apart from them was Jayden, his expression hard to read.

"Are you sad?" Arete asked quietly at his side.

"I don’t know... really," he said.

His gaze slid toward Jennyfer, who was huddled in a corner, shoulders shaking as she cried in silence. That was about Joshua—he had told her everything. Another wound. Another loss.

When Jayden turned his eyes back to the center of the place, he still didn’t know what to feel.

Edward was dead.

Something twisted in his chest at the thought. Not grief, not exactly. A dull ache. A thin thread of disappointment he couldn’t name. Maybe at Edward. Maybe at himself.

His eyes caught on Cadmus.

Cadmus was smiling faintly as he bent down and picked up the Holy Sword, Trinity Nihil, from where it had fallen. The blade had turned back to its original and holy white shade after leaving the hands of Amael.

"Cadmus, that sword..." Jayden said.

"Belongs to the Holy Church," Cadmus replied with a pleasant smile. "I shall bring it to His Holiness."

A dozen arguments rose to Jayden’s tongue but in the end, all of it died before it reached his lips.

He just sighed instead.

"We should head back to Celesta soon," he said.

***

From a distant ridge, Leon stood unmoving, his silhouette carved against the dark horizon like a statue sculpted from ice. His expression was colder than ever.

Sylvia.

Just thinking her name made something boil inside him. She had wasted his time, dragged him back, stalled him at every chance she got. And now, because of her, he was too late. Far too late to intervene.

Before him, the impossible had already happened—a new Vessel of Samael Eveningstar had been born. One far stronger than expected, now carrying Wrath, Sloth, and Nemesis all at once. A monster with an angelic face for certain..

Trying anything now would be nothing short of suicidal.

Leon gritted his teeth so hard he felt his jaw creak. He turned away sharply, shadows swallowing him as he vanished from the cliffside.

He had never trusted Sylvia—not even for a moment—but he didn’t expect her to push him this far, to actually stand in his way with such persistence. She had been prepared for him, annoyingly prepared. More of a hindrance than he ever could’ve predicted.

With each step through the shifting darkness, Leon clenched his jaw tighter. By the time he reappeared at the foot of the abandoned black castle he shared with Kleah, his temper had settled into a deep, simmering frustration.

If only...

If only he had all his strength.

After Nevia flung him into this timeline, the power he carried was merely a shadow of what he once had. His Sin of Pride—the very core of who he was—felt hollow here. Fake. Like a placeholder for something that didn’t belong.

And in truth, it didn’t.

He didn’t belong to this timeline, this world. Neither did the Pride he carried.

He had searched. The Sin of Pride of this timeline should’ve existed somewhere, a key to completing his being and making himself whole again. But no matter where he looked, no matter how deep or far he probed, he found nothing.

The only real solution—the only way to restore himself—would be to abandon this foreign body entirely. But doing anything close to what the Iris Project had done with Amael... that wasn’t simple. That wasn’t something one just attempted.

No.

He shouldn’t waste his time dwelling on that.

He would extract what he needed directly from the Iris Project itself. Whether or not he was from Ante Eden didn’t matter—he had been using them from the very beginning anyway.

Leon landed silently inside the gloomy castle hall.

He took a step forward—and a sudden icy shiver danced down the length of his spine.

Something was wrong.

He rushed ahead without hesitation.

"Gladys!"

His voice echoed sharply as he vanished, reappearing within their quarters—and his heart dropped.

The room was wrecked. Walls cracked. Furniture splintered. The air thick with the leftover pressure of violence.

"Once again late, Leon."

The voice froze him mid-step.

Slowly, he turned.

A man stood there, one hand casually lifting Kleah by her throat. Her legs kicked weakly, fingers clawing at the grip crushing her windpipe.

Leon’s vision went red.

In an instant, he vanished—and reappeared right in front of the man, fist drawn back.

-BAM!!!

Except the strike never landed.

A lightning-fast kick smashed into Leon’s stomach, folding him in half before sending him flying like a broken doll. He crashed violently into a stone pillar—shattering it—and tumbled onto the floor.

Pain flared through his body, but he forced himself up, disbelief twisting his features.

He looked up—and the man finally turned his head fully toward him.

And when Leon caught sight of the black eyepatch covering the man’s right eye, his entire body went rigid.

Frozen in absolute shock.

The man’s lips curled slowly, stretching into a twisted, mocking smirk that made Leon’s stomach twist.

"You remember now, Leon?"

"...!"

Of course he remembered. He could never forget that face. His entire body trembled as the memories clawed their way back—memories he had tried to bury so deeply they should never have resurfaced.

Abraham Rickward chuckled softly, as if savoring the moment.

"How could you have forgotten?"

He pulled Kleah closer, his cheek brushing hers in a way that made Leon’s vision blur with rage. Kleah grimaced, her body shaking, her eyes full of fear and despair.

"That day," Rickward whispered, his voice dripping with cruelty, "I made love to your woman... touched her in places you never had the courage to even imagine."

-BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

Leon’s mana detonated.

The Sin of Pride roared alive within him, responding instinctively to his anger. The already fragile castle walls splintered, cracks zigzagging across stone, dust raining from above as shockwaves tore through the air.

"L–Leon..." Kleah choked out, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her fingers trembled as they weakly clutched Rickward’s arm, barely able to breathe.

Rickward’s smile only widened.

Then, without a care in the world, he flung Kleah toward the wall.

She hit it hard with a broken gasp.

"Do you want another session, Leon?" Rickward asked. "She has a new body now... and I must say, she’s just as delightful in this one."

"RICKWARD!!!"

The killing intent that exploded from Leon was enough to make the entire room vibrate. Any being below Demigod level would have collapsed instantly under its pressure.

But Rickward merely pushed back his dark hair with a lazy smirk, completely unbothered.

Leon vanished the next instant, his black sword materializing in his hand as he reappeared behind Rickward. He swung it down at lightning speed, the blade whistling through the air with the intention to kill.

Rickward didn’t bother moving.

He simply lifted one hand—and caught the blade with his bare palm.

"...!"

His attack... stopped.

No—canceled.

His Sin of Pride... ignored like a meaningless breeze.

"W–What...?" Leon whispered, shock and disbelief twisting his expression.

Rickward’s smirk deepened.

"Sins don’t work on me, Leon."

His visible eye gleamed with dark amusement before shifting into something twisted, something almost ecstatic.

"Nothing works against Lust."