I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 423  [Event] [Semester-Exam At Vanadias] [11] Kamarel

Vanadias.

In one of the grand guest mansions owned by the Teraquin House, a retreat reserved for their most prestigious visitors. The opulence of the living room spoke of wealth and power—lavish curtains of deep emerald green hung from high windows, and the marble flooring gleamed under the soft light. Sitting at the center of this room was a strikingly handsome young man, his long green hair tied neatly behind his head, revealing sharp green eyes.

It was Kendel Teraquin, First Prince and heir to the Teraquin House.

A maid, her footsteps silent on the marble floor, approached gracefully. She poured a rich, aromatic coffee into a delicate porcelain cup before bowing her head and retreating from view. Kendel extended his hand towards the cup, but as he moved, his gaze caught sight of the green bracelet wrapped around his wrist. For a brief moment, his eyes lingered on the bracelet, his expression blank, revealing nothing of the thoughts swirling behind those sharp eyes.

"My Lord, your guest has arrived," the maid's soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Send him in," Kendel replied, withdrawing his hand from the untouched coffee. He leaned back in his chair, waiting.

Moments later, the door opened to admit a tall figure. The man who entered was striking in appearance, with long, flowing blond hair tied back, framing his angular features. His clothes, though finely made, had a distinct design—a cut and fabric that set him apart from the nobility of the Teraquin House. His ears, longer and more pronounced than Kendel's, marked him as something more.

A High Elf.

"Kamarel," Kendel greeted, his tone carefully neutral.

"Perhaps 'Lord Kamarel' would be more appropriate," the High Elf corrected with a polite smile as he took a seat across from Kendel, without so much as a formal greeting.

Kendel's eyes narrowed subtly as he observed the elf. The lack of respect was clear. Kamarel, a guest in the Teraquin House, had the audacity to seat himself without acknowledging the prince properly. But what else could he expect from a High Elf?

'Arrogance,' Kendel thought, suppressing a flicker of irritation. 'What else did I expect from their kind?'

"How are things progressing?" Kamarel asked, crossing his legs casually as if the conversation were of little consequence.

Kendel arched a brow. "What exactly do you mean?"

Without responding immediately, Kamarel reached over and took Kendel's cup of coffee, brazenly lifting it to his lips.

"Milord—" The maid, Elri, stepped forward in alarm at the breach of etiquette, but Kendel raised a hand, cutting her off.

"It's fine, Elri," Kendel said. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Kamarel glanced briefly at the maid before taking a sip. His brows furrowed slightly as he tasted it, and with a sharp motion, he set the cup back down. "Get this filth out of my sight."

Elri didn't hesitate, her face a perfect mask of composure as she swiftly removed the offending cup.

Kamarel wiped his mouth with a napkin, his eyes now focused entirely on Kendel. "Lord Kendel," he began, his tone almost mocking, "I'm here to determine whether you've had a change of heart regarding… our matters. I hope not."

"You've wasted both our time. No change in the plans," Kendel replied.

Kamarel's smile widened, his sharp features practically glowing with satisfaction. "I am pleased to hear that. Our men are already prepared to assist you in the... rebellion."

"There is no rebellion," Kendel cut him off, his tone hard.

Kamarel chuckled, the sound low and amused. "Oh, but there is. The Queen has no idea what you're planning for her Kingdom. If she did, she wouldn't have agreed to your terms so easily."

Kendel remained silent, his green eyes locked on Kamarel's face, betraying no emotion. He didn't rise to the bait, knowing full well Kamarel enjoyed twisting words.

"Do not worry," Kamarel continued smoothly. "All you need to do is incapacitate her. We will take care of the rest."

"I'll do what's necessary," Kendel said, but his gaze darkened. "But understand this—Utopia had better uphold its promises."

Kamarel inclined his head. "Of course. We hold no quarrel with our Elven kin. Any differences between us are trivial compared to the purity we share. The problem," Kamarel's expression twisted in disgust, "lies with the others... the filth."

There was no need for clarification. The other races—humans, werewolves, vampires—they were nothing in the eyes of High Elves like Kamarel.

"There won't be any left," Kendel said icily. "Not after Utopia takes control of Sancta Vedelia."

Kamarel's eyes gleamed with delight. "We knew we could trust you. You've shown us that."

In his life, Kamarel had met many who despised other races. But Kendel was different—a true supremacist, a zealot, driven by an unquenchable hatred for any race not of pure Elven blood. His plan to eradicate them from Sancta Vedelia wasn't just political. It was personal.

Kendel leaned forward slightly. "And know this—I won't tolerate any act of betrayal. Not from Utopia. Not from you."

Kamarel sighed in exasperation. "We share the same goal, Your Highness. Elven control over Sancta Vedelia. With the Olpheans, Zestellas, Dolphis, Ravens, Tepes, and Moonfangs gone, we'll have more than enough land and resources to divide. No more reason for conflict." Kamarel smiled again, though this time, it was thinner, more serious. "How long have we been planning this? There's no time for distrust. There's no need. I promise you."

"Your honeyed promises are meaningless to us." A sweet feminine voice cut.

Kamarel froze at the entrance, his eyes widening as his gaze fell on the young woman standing before him. His mouth hung slightly open, a rare reaction for someone as composed as him. The young woman was breathtaking—her long mint-green hair cascaded behind her, and her golden eyes glowed with an ethereal light that seemed to transcend even the beauty of Elven kind.

As a High Elf, Kamarel had been surrounded by the most exquisite women throughout his life. Many had approached him flirtatiously, recognizing his status and charm. But this woman was different. She was beyond even the highest standards of Elven beauty, a transcendent figure who made even him feel inadequate.

Kendel sighed. "Alvara."

Kamarel blinked, the name was clearly ringing bells to him. 'Alvara? Alvara Teraquin?'

He had heard of her, of course—rumors about her had spread far and wide. But seeing her in person was something else entirely.

"We were just discussing the well-being of our plans," Kendel said, addressing her stare. He knew his sister too well—she was already aware of the rebellion, of the plan to purge Sancta Vedelia of all other races. She had never voiced any objections to the plan itself, but there was one matter that had been festering between them.

Alvara, however, seemed unfazed by Kamarel's presence. She ignored him completely, her piercing golden gaze locked on her older brother. "We were just discussing the well-being of our plans," Kendel said, addressing her stare. He knew his sister too well—she was already aware of the rebellion, of the plan to purge Sancta Vedelia of all other races. She had never voiced any objections to the plan itself, but there was one matter that had been festering between them.

Alvara's eyes grew colder. "All these years, brother," she began, her voice cutting through the room, "...and you didn't have the galls to convince mother."

Though she shared her brother's vision of a Sancta Vedelia devoid of humans and other races—beings she neither trusted nor cared for—Alvara could not accept that they were moving forward without their mother's consent. On more than one occasion, she had almost revealed everything to their mother, tempted to break her silence out of sheer frustration. But each time, the promise of a land free of the filthy Halves, Hybrids and Humans stopped her. Her dream was too close to let her emotions ruin it.

Still, she expected Kendel, the more composed and collected of the two, to convince their mother. Yet here they were, mere days from their grand plan's execution, and their mother was still blissfully unaware of the rebellion simmering beneath the surface.

"You had plenty of times," Alvara said. "You could have convinced her."

Kendel met his sister's gaze. "She wouldn't understand," he said simply.

Alvara stood still for a moment, her golden eyes scrutinizing her brother as if searching for something buried deep within him. Then, without a word, she moved closer, her steps light and graceful, barely disturbing the air in the room. She reached out with her gloved hand—pure white, covering until elbow—and gently lifted Kendel's chin, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Tell me, elder brother," she began, in a cold tone. "Are you doing this for our people? Or for your personal grudge?"

Kendel remained silent. After a moment, he spoke.

"What about you, Freydis?"

Alvara's face immediately hardened, her expression turning emotionless. She slowly let go of Kendel's chin and stepped back. "Grudge," she said softly, "might certainly not be the right word to describe what I am feeling, dear brother."

"Princess Alvara, it's a great pleasure to meet you," Kamarel spoke up suddenly.

'I never thought I'd ever see someone as beautiful as Lady Freya.'

He was truly enthralled by Alvara.

Alvara though didn't acknowledge him directly, only casting a brief glance over her shoulder before turning and walking off, her long mint-green hair swaying gracefully with her steps.

Kamarel chuckled softly, his eyes following her as she exited. 'But now I begin to understand why Lord Durathiel wants her.'