I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 540: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [79] Father And Son

"I knew placing that last resort spell would co in handy."

It was his voice.

I stood frozen, my breath caught in my throat. It was him—without a doubt, my father.

Alvara tightened her grip on Freyja, pulling her closer, her blade pressing against the princess’s back just in case. Freyja barely flinched in response just observing.

My father turned, his grey eyes sweeping over before settling on Freyja.

"You seem to be in quite the predicant, Princess Freya," he said.

"Kill them," Freyja ordered without hesitation.

Alvara scoffed, pressing the blade harder into Freyja’s spine. "You’ll be the first to die."

Freyja grimaced, but my father remained indifferent to the exchange. Instead, he turned his gaze toward another figure—my mother.

"I’m afraid I don’t work for Utopia," he said. "I ca here for my wife."

A lump ford in my throat. "F-Father..." I muttered, almost unsure if I should be saying it.

His head snapped back toward , eyes narrowing in an unreadable expression.

"Hm?"

I swallowed hard and reached for Bryelle’s pendant, yanking it from my neck. The illusion shattered, revealing my true face.

For a brief mont, I saw sothing flicker in his gaze—recognition. But just as quickly, it hardened into sothing else.

Disdain.

"Oh," he muttered, his voice tinged with cold indifference. "It’s you."

"Father—"

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"Don’t call that."

He cut off.

"..."

His words... there was hatred in them. Real, tangible hatred.

What was this?

"Are you really my father?" I asked, wariness creeping into my voice.

Sothing felt off. He wasn’t the man from my mories or at the least the father who was kind to Amael.

His expression darkened. "I told you not to call that," he repeated his voice turning colder. "Not with that mouth. Not while you’re inside that body. Not with that face."

Inside that body?

I froze.

He wasn’t speaking in taphors. He knew.

He knew Nyrel Loyster was inside Amael.

But how? And more importantly—why did he hate for it?

My mind raced with questions, but only one thing mattered right now.

"Are you with the Iris Project?" I asked. "You even hurt Mother. My real father would never have done that. Did they do sothing to you?"

His lips curled into sothing almost resembling amusent, but there was no warmth in it.

"I am not with them," he said. "And they did nothing to . They rely showed the truth."

I frowned. "What truth?"

His gaze locked onto mine.

"The truth about you."

Then, slowly, he lifted a finger and pointed directly at .

"Nyrel Loyster. You aren’t my son."

"...!"

I opened my mouth but I had nothing to say.

Because, for the first ti in a long ti… I wasn’t sure what was real anymore.

"W-What are you saying?" I blurted out in the end.

"The truth," he said. "You may have fooled my wife and daughter, but not . You are not my son. You might have his mories, but you are nothing like the boy I raised."

Each word hit harder than I expected, slicing through painfully. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my expression neutral, but the ache in my chest was impossible to ignore.

"What about you?" I shot back. "We thought you were dead! And now you just show up, acting like a completely different person… You even took Mother—"

"She isn’t your mother either."

Before I could process his words, he turned and strode toward the amber cocoon where my mother was trapped. Without hesitation, he thrust his hand through it, shattering the crystalline structure. Water gushed out, pooling at his feet.

He caught her as she fell forward, cradling her in his arms.

I froze.

For the first ti since his arrival, his expression softened. Gently, he brushed aside the damp strands of hair sticking to her face, his eyes filled with sothing painfully familiar.

Love.

Affection.

That was my father’s expression—Kleines’ expression.

I gritted my teeth, watching as he carefully leaned her against the wall. Then, without sparing a glance, he picked up the scattered crystals, more than half of them filled with sothing unknown.

"All I ever wanted was to keep my family safe from threats," he muttered, tucking the crystals away. "Threats like you."

I stiffened.

"A threat?" I repeated, my voice shaking with disbelief. "Everything I’ve done—everything—was to ensure Mother and Christina were safe! I made sure they stayed out of danger!"

Kleines turned to face , and for the first ti, I saw it again.

Hatred.

Raw, unfiltered loathing.

"Safe?" he scoffed. "How ironic. You speak of safety when you are the very thing endangering them. Endangering Sancta Vedelia."

Sothing tightened in my throat.

It wasn’t just my pain I was feeling.

It was Amael’s as well.

His mories. His emotions. His deep-rooted longing for his father’s approval.

And yet… Kleines was looking at as if I were a monster. A creature that had stolen his son.

"I—I have Amael’s mories," I tried to reason my words coming awkwardly.

"A beast with Amael’s mories does not beco Amael," he said, cutting off without hesitation.

"..."

I let out a broken laugh, hollow and bitter.

"Am I a beast, Father?"

I t his gaze, searching for sothing—anything—in his expression. But all I found was silence which was a confirmation in so way.

"You aren’t Amael. You’re Nyrel Loyster. You have no family—no parents, no sisters, no brothers. You are an orphan who was thrown into Amael’s body by soone and stole his life. You’re nothing but a murderer who took away my son, Alea’s son… Christina’s brother."

I looked at him, my lips trembling, but no words ca out.

I couldn’t argue.

I couldn’t deny it.

Kleines scoffed lightly, his eyes filled with cold disdain. "You know it too, deep down. And yet, you keep pretending—living like a hypocrite. Just thinking of them as your family doesn’t make it real. I will never accept it. If you truly care about them, then co with . Leave Amael’s body. Give my son back what you stole."

"Give back...?" I mumbled, a bitter smile forming on my lips.

"You can’t fool ," he said. "I saw what happened the last ti soone took my son’s body. You’re no different from that monster, Leon. You’re going to bring ruin to this world, using Amael’s face as a mask. And I won’t let that happen."

"I would never do that," I said, lowering my gaze.

"You will. Because that’s who Nyrel Loyster is. I won’t let you destroy what remains of my family. Even with my son’s mories, you’re still a threat. Nyrel Loyster is dangerous. Maybe your real parents failed to raise you—"

"Shut it," I raised my gaze glaring at him.

Kleines stared back, his expression twisted with disgust. "I see nothing of Amael inside you." He shook his head slowly.

"..."

"Alea and Christina will see your true face soon enough," he continued. "And when they do, when everyone you’ve fooled sees you for the monster you really are, they’ll turn on you."

Then, just like that, he vanished.

I stood there, staring at the empty space where he had been. His words echoed in my mind, digging deeper into the wounds that were already bleeding inside .

After what Amael had told , did I really need to hear that?

I turned my head slightly, my gaze landing on Alea. Then, just for a mont, I glanced at Freyja and Alvara. They had heard everything. I could see it in their eyes. They might not have understood all of it, but they had heard enough.

"Are you going to kill now?" Freyja asked without showing any emotions. "I gave you my trust. Everything you asked for. You know I despise liars and traitors... and yet..."

She bit her lip so hard it bled.

"Be it Gods or Humans… you’re all the sa."

"I never intended to betray you," I said sincerely. "Have I ever been unfaithful to you? I did everything you asked—killed my own countryn for your sake, fought your battles, and even defended Elyen Kiora."

"You did in the end!" Freyja snapped, her eyes blazing as she gestured toward Brísingan. "You betrayed ! Used my trust to fool ! You were a man all along—" Her voice trembled with anger. She clenched her fists, gritting her teeth. "Who?! Who dared to use a charm on ?! Was it that little whore Aphrodite or Ishtar?!"

So, as expected, Cleenah had played a part in making pass so easily as a woman, despite being a man.

I looked down, my fingers tightening around Brísingan. "I did it to save my… mother. If I had asked for this as a reward for everything I had done for you, would you have accepted?"

"You should have asked! You should have asked… instead of…" She trailed off, her eyes flickering gold.

Guilt settled in my chest. "I never ant to deceive you. If I could have saved my mother without tricking you, I would have." I raised Brísingan in my hand. "And this? I have no use for it."

Freyja lifted her gaze. "What do you think will happen once I take it back?"

I hesitated for a mont before gripping the necklace tighter. "What do you want?"

"..."

"I’m sure you desire sothing more than this war Durathiel started," I continued. "This war doesn’t interest you. So tell —what is it that you truly want? I will bring it to you."

"Anything I want?" She asked, her anger cooling slightly as she took my words seriously.

"That depends on what it is," I replied.

Freyja’s lips parted, and her answer ca without hesitation.

"My body."

I raised a brow. "Your body?"

"Swear it to ." She stepped closer, her golden eyes locking onto mine. "Swear that you will do everything in your power to bring my true body."

[]

’Her body is inside the Holy Tree…?’

This was the first ti I was hearing any of this.

’Can I just take it out of the tree?’

[]

’What do you think I should do?’

[]

’Or…?’

[]

’I am not killing her, Cleenah. If I give back Brísingan, do you think she will attack , trying to kill ?’

[]

I stared at Freyja, taking in her expression—the betrayal still visible on her expression but there was slight hope I might get her what she wanted. Slowly, I stepped forward and reached for her hand.

Gently, I placed Brísingan in her palm. "You have my word. I will return your body to you. And if I fail… you can kill if you want."

Even though I said that, I doubted Nes especially will let die this easily...

Freyja’s fingers curled around the necklace. The mont her skin made contact, the beads pulsed faintly, as if responding to her presence. But she wasn’t looking at Brísingan. Her gaze remained fixed on .

"In exchange, I need your word," I said. "Promise that you won’t do anything against or Sancta Vedelia."

She narrowed her eyes. "And how do I believe you? Any trust I had in you is gone."

"Your body is inside the Holy Tree of Eden," I said with a knowing smile. "And I am a royal of the Olphean House. If there’s anyone who can find it and bring it to you, it’s ."

Her eyes widened in shock. She hadn’t expected to know that.

I sighed, glancing briefly at Alvara before eting Freyja’s gaze again. "I ant what I said. I’m sorry for deceiving you. Without your help, there are people I might not have been able to save."

I paused a bit letting my words sink.

"I owe you for that. So let return the favor, Freyja."

She studied in silence before pulling her hand away, Brísingan still clasped tightly in her fingers. Then, in one smooth motion, she fastened the necklace around her neck.

The beads glowed a divine red, pulsing like a heartbeat. At that mont, I could feel it—if she wanted to, she could kill right now. And yet, she only stared.

"If you betray again, Loki—"

"I won’t," I interrupted with a smile.

She held my gaze for a mont longer, then turned slightly. "Then tell her to stop pointing her sword at my back before I decide to kill her."

"Alvara?" I called her behind Freyja.

Alvara stood rigid, her grip on her sword tight, barely concealing the murderous intent radiating from her.

A brief mont of silence stretched between them before, at last, she lowered her weapon.

"Bryelle, now," Alvara said before striding ahead without another word.

I started to follow after Alvara but hesitated, glancing back at Freyja.

"I know who you really are," I said, eting her golden gaze. "You’re the Goddess Freyja."

"Who told you that?"

"I can’t say," I replied. "But tell if I’m wrong—you don’t actually care about this war or what happens to Utopia, do you?"

Freyja’s expression remained indifferent. "I don’t. The only reason I want Utopia to win is because if they fall, Elyen Kiora falls with them."

So, it was just as I thought.

"And Durathiel?" I asked.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "What about him?"

Her tone was dismissive, almost bored by the discussion.

"He died the day your father ambushed them. The Sin transford him into sothing else entirely, and I don’t care about whatever he is now," she said curtly.

"I’m going to kill him," I said, watching her carefully.

Freyja’s lips curled into a small smile, but she said nothing. There was no opposition—no warning. Just quiet amusent.

"But after that," I continued, "you know what will happen to Utopia. What Sancta Vedelia will do to Elyen Kiora."

Freyja’s smile faded slightly, her eyes narrowing.

"I suppose," she said, "if you’re saying all this, then you must have a plan, Loki."

"I do," I confird, reaching into my cloak. "But I need your help."

From my hand, the Seed of Eden glowed faintly.