I Am The Game's Villain

The journey from Elyen Kiora to the City of Utopia was nothing short of grueling, largely due to the oppressive security measures enforced along the way.

As the capital of Utopia, this city represented the very heart of its power, housing its main army. Every checkpoint we passed was stringent to an almost fanatical degree, with no leniency afforded to even the most seemingly harmless travelers.

Thankfully, being in the company of the High Elf Princess, Freya Ruvelion herself, made the process significantly smoother. Her mere presence was enough to quell suspicion and expedite procedures, but the constant stops and verifications were still irksome.

At last, we reached the grand bridge that marked the official entrance to Utopia—a structure as imposing as the city it guarded. The gate ahead loomed like a fortress, flanked by battlements teeming with vigilant sentinels.

The guards stationed here were unlike the typical sentries one might encounter elsewhere. Encased in gleaming armor, their physiques radiated strength, and their postures spoke of quite a discipline. As our convoy approached, a contingent of these soldiers moved to intercept, their weapons ready but their demeanor tempered by professionalism.

Without hesitation, they surrounded Freyja's carriage. Their leader, a knight clad in silver-trimmed armor, stepped forward and peered into the carriage. The moment his eyes fell upon Freyja, recognition dawned, and the entire contingent dropped to one knee.

"Welcome, Your Royal Highness," they said in unison.

Freyja offered them a gentle smile. "My gratitude. Would you be so kind as to open the gates now?"

"At once, Your Highness."

The massive gates groaned as they swung open, revealing the splendor of Utopia. As the carriage rolled forward, my eyes widened in awe.

How many were they?

What truly left me breathless was the sheer might of the Utopian army stationed here.

Durathiel's forces.

This was no ordinary army. This was his personal army. Tens of thousands of knights moved with mechanical precision, their expressions cold and stern. They were walking with disciplined gait.

"Are you impressed?" Freyja asked me noticing my surprise.

I nodded, unable to mask my astonishment. "I am."

"This is my brother's army. Every one of them is bound to his command. Their strength is unparalleled—enhanced through methods not even Sancta Vedelia has dared attempt. A single knight here could face ten of Sancta Vedelia's best and still emerge victorious."

Enhanced?

The word piqued my curiosity, but I hesitated to press further. Freyja's expression, though pleasant, warned against prying. Whatever the source of their strength, it was not something she would divulge lightly.

"I might have considered adding one of them to my collection but they're far too emotionless for my taste," Freyja sighed. "I don't like this place. Nothing about it is beautiful."

Putting aside Freyja and her peculiar collection. Whatever she meant by it, she wasn't wrong about the lack of beauty here. The city wasn't designed to dazzle.

As we moved closer to our destination, my gaze was drawn to the towering structure at the city's core.

The Tower of Utopia.

A colossal spire of steel and stone, it dominated the skyline. This place wasn't built for peace, nor even for conquest—it was a city forged for war.

And yet, those idiots in Edenis Raphiel still insisted on remaining neutral. How could they not see the threat that loomed? It was maddening.

When we finally reached the courtyard before the Tower, I dismounted my horse, which nuzzled its face against mine as I landed on the ground. A small smile crept onto my lips as I stroked its mane.
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This horse, a gift from Freyja, had somehow become one of my few comforts during my stay at Freyja's brainwashed castle. There was a bond growing between us already. I was definitely going to take her back with me to Sancta Vedelia once this war was over.

As I tended to my horse, one of the guards approached Freyja's carriage and opened the door. She stepped out with her usual grace but, instead of descending on her own, extended her hand toward me.

I hesitated for a moment, grimacing slightly, but relented. Taking her delicate hand, I helped her down.

The guards' glares were immediate, their expressions ranging from suspicion to outright hostility.

What are you staring at?

I wanted to retort but wisely held my tongue.

"You'd do well to watch your words here, Loki," Freyja said. "Do you understand?"

"Understood, Your Highness," I replied.

It wasn't as though I had any plans to stir up trouble. Quite the opposite—I wanted to avoid any confrontation, particularly with Durathiel.

His Sloth was still affecting me. Worse, I feared he might sense it, that he might sense it.

It wasn't the right moment to make a move against him.

As we stepped into the tower's entrance, we were met by an assortment of High Elves, Blood Elves, and Dark Elves. They weren't all knights—some bore the insignias of warriors, but the majority were clad in noble attire.

This was probably where the decisions were made and reports from the three nations of Utopia were shared and deliberated.

The moment Freyja entered, all eyes turned to her, and they immediately knelt toward her. Freyja raised her hand in a graceful gesture as she continued walking.

A Knight of Utopia stepped forward, leading us toward the elevator at the far end of the hall.

"I will be going with Loki. You can wait here," Freyja said to the other guards.

The guards nodded silently, remaining behind as the elevator doors closed.

Inside the confined space, it was just the three of us: Freyja, the knight, and myself. Freyja stood at the forefront, while I lingered slightly behind her. My eyes drifted to her slender neck, framed by cascades of golden hair.

If only…

I let my thoughts spiral into dangerous scenarios: threatening her to hand over that cursed necklace or using force to demand my mother's release. My mind played out the scenes—snapping her neck, watching her defenses crumble.

But every plan I concocted fell apart as quickly as it formed. No matter how straightforward it seemed, I came to knew Freyja within a week of time spent within her. Whatever move I made, she'd counter it. I was certain of that.

I had to be patient, I will wait for the right moment.

First earning her full trust and for that I had to do what she asked me to do.

Shaking off the thoughts, I refocused as the elevator came to a stop.

The air here was much quieter. The corridor we entered was far removed from the noise and commotion of the tower's lower levels.

We were led through a hallway lined with and finally, we reached a set of ornate double doors.

Even before entering, I could feel it—a really strong presence inside it. My senses sharpened instinctively as we stepped inside.

The room was grand dominated by a round table surrounded by empty chairs. At its head sat a tall man with pale skin. His posture was quite elegant, as he turned his gaze toward us.

This had to be him.

Elashor Sarkian, King of the Blood Elves.

"Princess Freyja," he greeted, inclining his head in respect.

"King Elashor," Freyja replied with a smile as she approached. "It has been some time."

She walked to the table with, and I followed close behind. Pulling out a chair for her, I waited until she sat before taking my place standing behind her.

Opposite us, a young woman stood behind Elashor. She had a stern expression as she started scanning me. A bodyguard, perhaps.

I ignored the pointed gaze from the Blood Elf woman and stood silently, keeping my composure. This wasn't the moment to show weakness or irritation.

Elashor's eyes drifted toward me, and a faint chuckle escaped his lips.

"I see Your Highness has found a new... toy," he said, his words laced with amusement and just enough derision to sting.

I grimaced inwardly but kept my face neutral.

"She is not my toy," Freyja intervened in my defense "Loki is my new bodyguard. She has previously served under the Raonpherys."

Elashor's interest visibly piqued. His crimson eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me more closely.

"Raonpherys, you say? Interesting," he mused before turning to the woman behind him. "What do you think, Shuria?"

Shuria, the stoic Blood Elf woman standing behind Elashor, tilted her head slightly as she addressed him.

"Yes, Your Majesty. However, if I may speak frankly, I would caution against appointing someone previously affiliated with the Raonpherys as a personal guard, Your Highness. Such ties are... precarious."

Freyja's eyes turned cold. "Oh? Are you giving me lessons now, Shuria?"

Shuria immediately bowed her head, her tone apologetic. "I meant no offense, Princess Freyja. My concerns are purely practical. We are at war, after all, and vigilance is critical."

Elashor interrupted smoothly, a smile curving his lips. "Apologies for Shuria, Princess. Her words may be blunt, but they come from a place of concern. In these times, caution is warranted, even if it borders on paranoia."

Freyja's icy demeanor softened slightly, her own smile returning. "Indeed. However, I assure you, Elashor, you'll have ample opportunity to put your suspicions to rest. Loki is the individual I mentioned who will be accompanying your army."

Elashor leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly. "I'll oblige your request, Princess Freyja, though I must make it clear—I cannot take responsibility for her life."

"You needn't concern yourself," Freyja replied confidently. "Loki can handle herself. That much, I can guarantee."

Elashor chuckled lightly. "Very well, I'll take your word for it, Princess."

Satisfied with his response, Freyja gracefully shifted the conversation. "Is my brother here?"

"King Durathiel is currently absent," Elashor explained. "He has tasked me with overseeing Utopia in his stead. However, as I'll soon be departing for Valachia, Grukel will assume control in the interim."

"Hm, I see," Freyja murmured thoughtfully. "When do you plan to leave?"

"In two days."

"It seems my brother is eager to bring this war to a swift conclusion," Freyja noted.

"And it will end," Elashor said. "As much as I detest Bakarel, he will secure Central Vedelia. I will personally see to Valachia. As for the Elves of Sancta Vedelia, we can only hope they manage to deal with Elaryon and Zestella."

"What of the Olpheans and Moonfangs?" Freyja asked.

"They'll be addressed after Central Vedelia is under our control," Elashor replied curtly.

"And the Ravens?" Freyja's voice dipped slightly, a hint of doubt lacing her words. "I must admit, I have my reservations about my brother's plans."

"You are not alone in your doubts," Elashor admitted. "Lord Durathiel has a plan for them, though I doubt he'll share the full scope with anyone."

"As expected," Freyja said, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Though I suspect King Elashor's interest is more on Valachia?"

Elashor chuckled. "As you know, a son has a duty to avenge his father and his people."

"Indeed," Freyja acknowledged, "but I urge caution. The Witch of Valachia... she is not to be underestimated. At twelve years old, she decimated an entire army. Who knows what power she wields now?"

A flicker of annoyance crossed Elashor's face, but he quickly masked it. "I appreciate your concern, Princess. I know how to handle myself."

"I do wish you the best. The Demigod of the Tepes House seems absent. This should be the perfect opportunity to strike," Freyja said.

"Indeed," Elashor agreed, but right after his gaze lingered on me for a moment. "But before we delve further into this... delicate matter..."

Freyja turned to me. "Loki, you may wait outside."

I had been intently following the conversation but there was no point in protesting.

What a shame.

I gave a curt nod and stepped out of the room.