I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 482: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [21] Brísingamen Again

Chapter 482: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [21] Brísingamen Again

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"What are your thoughts on Utopia, Princess?"

Grukel asked as he and Alvara strolled through the bustling streets of the Utopian City escorted by Utopian Elite Knights trailing behind at a cautious distance.

"Nothing," Alvara replied curtly. She didn't bother to mask the contempt in her expression.

Grukel chuckled softly at her brusque answer.

"I must extend my deepest apologies for the incident in Vanadias. The Behemoth's attack was never our intention. We had merely tasked them to ensure Princess Bryelle's safe passage to Utopia as a measure of goodwill in our agreement. Unfortunately, it seems they had...other plans."

"Spare me your lies. You may deceive my elder brother with such hollow words, but I am not as naive as he is."

Her voice dripped with contempt, and her composed demeanor cracked just enough to reveal the simmering anger beneath the result of what happened to Bryelle. She didn't believe for a moment that Utopia had intended to keep Bryelle alive. To her, it was obvious-they would have been equally content with her alive or dead, so long as it suited their agenda.

"I assure you, Princess, I speak with the utmost sincerity. I do hope the young princess is safe and unharmed."

His tone was gentle, but his words felt barbed, probing for information. Alvara's eyes narrowed further, her instincts screaming that his concern was more like a calculated maneuver to discern Bryelle's current whereabouts.

"Now, now," Grukel continued, raising a hand as if to calm the rising tension. "There's no need to be so wary of us, Your Highness. Especially not when you are soon to become a part of Utopia. His Majesty has high hopes for you."

Alvara let out a bitter laugh, her lips curling into a mocking smile.

"I couldn't care less about your Majesty's expectations. If you would kindly show me to a place where I can rest assuming such a luxury exists in this city built by cowards fleeing Sancta Vedelia—I'd be more than happy to end this tiresome conversation,' she said with mockery and disdain. Grukel, however, seemed still calm.

"Cowards, you say? Perhaps," he mused, his tone tinged with amusement. "But remember, Princess, it is often the cowards who outlive the reckless and arrogant."

Alvara raised an eyebrow, letting out a derisive laugh.

"How ironic to hear that from you, the ones daring to attack Sancta Vedelia. Truly, I find it amusing."

Grukel chuckled softly. "I beg to differ, Your Highness. Our King is no coward. He is different. He will win and, in doing so, return us to our rightful home-to the lands that are our legitimate birthright."

"Birthright you have abandoned," Alvara reminded him.

"Abandoned our birthright?" Grukel scoffed. "On the contrary, we High Elves were on the verge of achieving supremacy, of finally claiming our dominance over all other races. Until..." His voice trailed off.

Alvara waited for him to continue.

What absurd claim was he about to make?

"Until we faced a most terrifying adversary," Grukel said.

Alvara raised an eyebrow.

"The Holy Tree itself," Grukel muttered, his grip tightening on his cane. "It, the very source of our strength, gave birth to the First Apostle of Nihil, and First Prophetess, at the worst possible moment."

***

More than a week had passed since I became Freyja's personal guard, and to be honest, I felt like I was getting too accustomed to my disguise. The role was second nature now, though not without its frustrations.

Obviously, it wasn't like I spent that time idly. My main goal remained clear: finding a way to reach my mother. To that end, I tried to build a friendly relationship with the two bastards stationed at the corridor leading to her quarters. Unfortunately, these two had no interest in camaraderie. Instead, they had the audacity to express an interest in my 'body.' The bastards also thought I was a woman-a misconception I entertained purely for strategic purposes. The temptation to reveal my true identity and watch their disgusted faces while throwing up as they realized the truth was strong, but I resisted. For now.

Since befriending them was clearly off the table, I had to change tactics. A risky but promising plan formed in my mind.

Under the cover of routine, I slipped into the bustling kitchen. The aroma of freshly prepared dishes and the sound of clinking utensils filled both my ear and nose. As I entered, the staff paused momentarily to bow their heads respectfully.

"Milady," they greeted me.

By now, everyone knew me as Freyja's guard, always trailing behind her. This familiarity, coupled with Freyja's habit of having me personally deliver her meals, gave me unimpeded access. It was no secret she was trying to bind me to her service, but I had no intention of becoming her eternal servant.

Feigning nonchalance, I wandered through the kitchen. Then, seizing a moment when no eyes were on me, I produced a small vial from within my cloak. The liquid inside was a potent sleeping concoction-one of the many items I'd come across while exploring Elyen Kiora.

I tipped the vial carefully, spilling its contents onto two plates waiting to be served. Satisfied, I exited swiftly.

In the garden, I crouched behind a bush and waited. My vantage point provided a clear view on the hidden door. As expected, a maid appeared shortly, carrying the two plates meant for the

guards.

Perfect.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I watched her deliver the meals. My plan was unfolding perfectly.

"Lady Loki!"

The sudden call jolted me, and I spun toward the source of the voice. One of Freyja's loyal, simping maids was searching for me. Her eyes scanned the area, though she hadn't spotted

me yet.

"Lady Freyja has summoned you!" She called out, her voice loud and hopeful, clearly expecting me to emerge.

I grimaced. Of course, Freyja had to summon me now, of all times. Ignoring the maid's increasingly desperate calls, I remained hidden. There was no way I was going to her at this moment. My plan was already in motion, and nothing was going to derail it.

From what that shady elf told me, it would take at most five minutes for the concoction to work, but I waited ten minutes just to ensure I wouldn't stumble upon the guards again. After ten minutes had passed, I carefully entered the corridor. As expected, the guards were slumped over, their heads resting on their plates, which still held untouched food.

Finally.

I moved quickly yet cautiously down the corridor. My heart pounded as I reached the next obstacle: a sturdy door with a keyhole. I rushed back to the unconscious guards. As I had hoped, one of them had a key hanging from his belt. I snatched it and returned to unlock the door.

The moment I stepped inside, an indescribable sensation washed over me. The air was heavy, charged with an oppressive mana that made my skin crawl. It was utterly unlike the corridor I

had just left.

Before me stretched another long passageway. This time, I proceeded with utmost caution, every sense heightened to its limit. The further I walked through, the stronger the pressure

became.

Soon, a faint red glow appeared, spilling from a room to my right. My breath hitched. I could

feel it now-her mana.

"Mother..."

Without a second thought, I rushed toward the room.

[<Stop here!>]

I froze, standing at the threshold, my gaze fixed on the sight before me. Shock rendered me

speechless.

"What the hell is that...?"

The room was unlike anything else in the castle. Its walls were almost sterile white, devoid of

any decoration or warmth. At its center stood a grotesque sight: my mother, encased within an amber cocoon, her unconscious form suspended and unnaturally still. The cocoon itself was embedded in a small white tree. Dozens of roots extended outward from the cocoon, weaving through the floor and connecting to an array of crystalline structures.

The roots pulsed rhythmically, as though alive, drawing something intangible from my mother's body. That energy flowed slowly into the crystals, filling them drop by agonizing drop. Most were only half full.

My gaze locked onto my mother's face, pale and pained within her prison.

Any trace of emotion vanished from my face. My fists clenched tightly, nails biting into my palms with such force that the sharp sting brought a thin line of blood.

[<Don't step inside. You can't-and you shouldn't-not yet.>] Cleenah's warning halted my steps as I instinctively moved forward.

"Why?" The word escaped my lips colder than I intended. Every muscle in my body tensed,

vibrating with suppressed rage.

[<Look closely. There's a barrier.>]

I squinted, scanning the room until my eyes caught the faint shimmer of a translucent field

encasing the room..

"As soon as I cross it, Freyja will know, is that it?" I asked, already piecing together the

implications.

[<Exactly. There could also be traps, but that's not the worst of it. This barrier... it's crafted

and reinforced by the Brísingamen.>]

Are you kidding me?!

I could already guess Cleenah's next words.

[<If you want to free your mother, you'll have to steal it.>]

How the hell was I supposed to do that?

She never let it out of her sight, let alone taking it off.

My gaze shifted back to the cocoon, toward my mother within.

"Can you hear me, Mother?" I tried to call her but no response came.

Why this is happening?

Did he do this?

Was this my father's doing, if he truly was my father.

But the answers didn't matter.

Not now.

I am going to free her.

And regardless of who the responsible was, I'd make him pay.