I Am The Game's Villain-Chapter 547 [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [End] Durathiel’s End

After negotiating with Amael and striking a deal, Freyja made her decision—she would go to Utopia. It wasn't because she particularly wanted to, but after the recent attack on Elyen Kiora, she no longer felt safe. Her palace had been left drenched in the stench of blood, its halls littered with the corpses of those who had fallen. The sight of it had been disgusting for Freyja.

She ordered her remaining servants to cleanse the palace, though she knew no amount of scrubbing would wash away the memory of it. In the meantime, she needed somewhere to stay. Utopia was the obvious choice. Durathiel had urged her to go there from the very beginning. In hindsight, it was clear that he had already suspected something was wrong with Kendel's supposed generosity in sending so many of his men to Elyen Kiora. Freyja herself had felt it too. Perhaps that was why she had sent Loki to meddle in the situation—to test the waters. So far, he had done well in keeping the Teraquins in check. In fact, he was the main reason the Toran hadn't acted directly. He was too dangerous. Too clever. And for some reason, he already seemed to suspect them. His hostility toward them wasn't even subtle; he made it clear that he despised them. Despite this, Freyja had done nothing. Not out of carelessness or blind trust, but because as long as she possessed Brísingamen, she knew they couldn't touch her. That artifact alone was enough to keep her untouchable. But none of that mattered now. She had arrived in Utopia—only to find it in ruins. Destruction stretched as far as the eye could see. Buildings collapsed, homes burned and still clashed echoing.

And at the heart of it all, two figures clashed. Durathiel and Loki. Their battle carved a path of devastation through the city, each strike sending shockwaves through the air. Structures crumbled in their wake, entire districts being torn apart as they fought. Freyja watched them, her gaze settling on Loki—the reason she had taken him in, the one whose name had interested her. His presence had drawn her in, as had his appearance, which at first had made her mistake him for a woman. The revelation that he was a man had changed little. Yet, no matter how much she tried to push it aside, the memory of that day lingered—a prophecy whispered into her mind centuries ago. [I see Loki in your future.]

[Loki will bring destruction, and Loki will give you what you truly desire.]

At first, she hadn't understood its meaning. The Loki she knew had only ever brought chaos and ruin—nothing more. But what if the prophecy spoke of two Lokis? One who would bring destruction… and another who would grant her deepest desire? She had already encountered the first. But the second? She had yet to meet him. Or at least, she thought she hadn't. Now, as she watched the battle raging before her—Amael standing against Durathiel doubt crept into her mind. What if he was the one? And if so… did that mean the thing she truly desired was her body? Would he be the one to give it back to her? The thought seemed too convenient, too perfectly aligned with the prophecy. Yet, the more she considered it, the more convinced she became. Amael was that Loki. And if that was true, then she had no reason—no desire—to harm him. But as she observed him, one thing became painfully clear. Amael was no ordinary man. The way he fought, the way he moved—it wasn't just skill. It was something beyond. "Freyja!" A voice suddenly cut through her thoughts. She turned, her gaze landing on a young girl with bright blonde hair, floating in the air. Freyja's lips curled into an amused smile. "Are you lost, child?" "Edward is calling you. It's urgent." "Edward?" Freyja repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Loki!" Annabelle quickly corrected herself. "Please, follow me!" ***

Darkness. That was all I saw when I opened my eyes. A suffocating blackness pressed against me from every side, making it hard to breathe. My chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow gasps as I tried to move—only to feel rocks surrounding me. I was buried. My pulse pounded in my ears as I reached out, feeling nothing but jagged stone. Gritting my teeth, I gathered what little strength I had left and pushed. Pain flared through my arms, but I didn't stop. Slowly, I forced the rubble aside, clawing my way toward the surface. When I finally broke free, I gasped for air, sucking in the thick, dust-choked atmosphere. My body ached, my limbs trembling from the effort. Around me, the world was nothing but ruins—a wasteland of dust and destruction.

-BAM!

Before I could even process my surroundings, something struck my face with enough force to send me rolling across the ground. A punch. A weak punch. But even that weak punch hurt. I spat blood onto the cracked earth and looked up with a glare. My vision swam, but through the haze, I saw him. Durathiel. He stood a short distance away, his breathing ragged, his hand clutching his stomach where blood leaked out profusely. His appearance was ruined—pale skin, trembling limbs, and exhaustion written all over his face. "You... elven bastard... still alive?" I groaned, forcing myself up. Durathiel said with a broken voice. "That… should be my line, human." His body swayed before he coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips. He looked just as bad as I felt—no, worse. "Your Sin… really is my Sin's Bane," Durathiel muttered, his tired gaze meeting mine. I staggered forward. "What…?" "My Sin can sever the flow within a body—cut off every vein of energy, creating an artificial death…" He took a ragged breath. "But you… you can destroy that very power yet your Sin... doesn't seem complete at all." His words barely registered as I looked down at my own trembling hands. Something felt wrong. My mana? I couldn't feel it. My Ruah? Gone.

A cold sensation slithered through my body as realization dawned—I could feel the Sin of Sloth corrupting me, sinking into my very being. Durathiel let out a choked laugh, though it sounded more like a wheeze. "I should… be able to kill you right now… without a problem… but…" His gaze dropped to his stomach wound, his knees finally giving out beneath him. "Ugh… I was just a bit too late." I swallowed thickly. I had almost died. If I had been just a second slower… if my mana had vanished any sooner… He would have finished me off. But I wasn't safe yet. I couldn't use mana. I kept my eyes on Durathiel, watching him warily despite his deteriorating state. Yet, as I took a step forward— My knees buckled. Pain exploded through my body, and I collapsed onto the ground with a strangled grunt. "Argh…!" "You miserable human… you actually beat me," Durathiel muttered.

I let out a slow, heavy breath as I slumped onto the ground. My body ached, my mana reserves completely drained—I couldn't even m reach into my storage ring for a healing potion since I couldn't use mana anymore.

"You shouldn't have started a war," I sneered, barely able to keep my eyes open. Durathiel let out a hollow chuckle before glaring at me with eyes filled with resentment. "Are you happy now, human? My people will be slaughtered, and those unlucky enough to survive will live the rest of their days as slaves to yours." I breathed slowly, shifting my gaze toward him. "They won't. I gave the Seed to Freyja. She'll grow a new Tree for Utopia." Durathiel's eyes widened in shock. "And I won't enslave your people the way you did mine," I added, my stare turning icy. "You're naive…" He coughed violently, more blood staining the ground beneath him as he collapsed fully. "Your people will subjugate Utopia… even more now that you've given them a new Tree." I remained silent. He wasn't wrong. Utopia had lost the war. There would be consequences. And now, with the knowledge that a new Tree of Eden was taking root, Sancta Vedelia would undoubtedly swoop in like vultures, seeking control over it—draining Utopia dry. That was the fate of those who lost. The weak didn't get to dictate their future. "This changes nothing…" He said taking a pause. "All I ever wanted… was independence." I scoffed. "I doubt that's the only reason. If it were, you wouldn't have allied yourself with the likes of the Iris Project." Durathiel's eyes drifted upward, locking onto the fragment of sky visible through the swirling dust. For a moment, his gaze softened—lost in the remnants of a dream long since shattered. "I just wanted revenge," he admitted. "Your father… killed my mother and father. He thought we were the ones who hurt you. He may say it was an accident, but in the end… he murdered them." His lips curled into a bitter smile. "The Iris Project saved me," he continued. "They gave me a Sin. In return… I had to deliver them the Sin of Wrath and the Prophetess." I narrowed my eyes. "They are the worst kind of people." "I know," he replied, cold and empty. Silence settled between us, the only sound being our ragged breathing. But soon, even that began to slow. Durathiel let out a low breath. His body trembled—whether from pain or acceptance, I couldn't tell. Then, finally, he spoke: "Kill me, human."

"You're going to die anyway," I groaned, my voice devoid of sympathy. "No… kill me now," Durathiel insisted.

For a moment, I simply stared at him.

With a slow breath, I forced my battered body to move. Summoning Trinity Nihil, I dragged myself toward him.

Durathiel's half-lidded eyes met mine. "Burn my body. Don't let them find it." I knew exactly who they were. The Iris Project. They had a twisted fetish with corpses, their experiments crossing the line between science and pure depravity. If they got their hands on Durathiel's body, they would desecrate it in ways too horrific to imagine. I gave him a nod. His gaze drifted slightly, as if looking past me, into something far beyond. "In the end… we're doing exactly what Samael planned for us… The Sin Holders killing each other, the winner absorbing the Sin of the fallen… until he is fully formed." I felt my grip on Trinity Nihil tighten. "I won't become Samael," I said.

"Perhaps…" Durathiel muttered, his eyes growing heavy and closing.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

I lifted Trinity Nihil, my hand trembling from fatigue and something else—something I refused to name. "I'll find a solution," I muttered. "For Utopia. For their independence." Durathiel chuckled softly, though the motion made more blood trickle from his lips. "Then I wish you good luck… against the other Sins… Edward Falkrona." The moment my name left his lips, I drove Trinity Nihil into his heart. -Spurt!