I Am the God of Games

Chapter 127: Devil May Cry III

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

While the players waged a bloody battle against the Lemures by the stairs, Angora reached the top floor of the tower thanks to Vela’s protection.

There, he found Cecil who only had half of his human form left.

“You’re finally here.” Cecil was not as weak as he was when he vomited blood out of sheer frustration, and was instead staring at Angora composedly as he arrived. “I knew you would come!”

Angora caught sight of his father’s figure at a corner with a gaping hole over his chest and showing no signs of life.

That was basically the same as being dead for the mortals of this world, but as a Player, Angora could see that there was just a fraction of HP left on his yellow HP bar—although it was slowly draining away.

Angora gave Vela a look. She nodded, and drew out a Health Potion (Coca-Cola) from her small bag and fed it to Horan.

Meanwhile, Cecil did not pay attention to whatever Angora’s retainer was doing as his gaze remained on Angora.

“I’ve said that I would take what belongs to me even if you wouldn’t give it to me.”

As he spoke, black flesh tumors and tentacles stretched out over Cecil’s body like a spiderweb of innards and veins, spreading over the room. He looked no different from a large beast on the hunt, gaping its maw and baring its frightening fangs.

Any normal person would probably have been frightened stiff in such a situation. Even Vela appeared as if a great foe was before her despite having challenged dungeons on multiple occasions, but Angora was merely looking at his brother with his usual gaze, even if Cecil had lost half his human form and most of his rationality.

“Why! Why are you still giving me that look?! You should be afraid now; you should be begging for mercy!”

Cecil’s composure as if he had more than enough power to destroy Angora faded right then, his voice once again cracking in madness.

“I only feel that you’re tragic,” Angora said slowly. “You’re hurt by your own delusions, ever bent on ruling over everything and ending up with your grotesque self now.”

“To tell the truth, I didn’t care how hostile you are towards me because I have never thought about having any exchange with you in the future.” Angora’s expression finally changed a little as his eyes conveyed anger. “Father had always valued you so much and sincerely watched over you—everything would have been yours, be it dukedom or land, so why would you hurt him?”

“Because he never gave me what truly mattered!” Cecil roared at him in turn. “Dukedom?! Land?! All those things are pocket change in the face of power! You know what I’m talking about, and it matters not even if you still play dumb now!”

“Is that all you wanted to say?”

Angora drew out the letters that Edward had stolen from Cecil’s room and flung them on the floor. “In his letters to Count Ainsworth, Father had mentioned ‘the treasure that God blessed me with’, I believe?”

“Yes, that’s it! But it’s too late now. It doesn’t even matter if you hide it, for I knew everything early on!” Cecil said cheekily.

“Do you really not know what the treasure refers to?” Angora asked then.

“Hmph!” Cecil snorted hatefully. “I may not know what it is, but the letters are dated around the time when your mother is latching on to the old man. Since he wrote to Ainsworth, the treasure must refer to something she gave him. How dare you claim he loves me after keeping that treasure for me for so many years! He only loved you, bast—”

“The treasure he’s talking about is you, dumbass!” Angora abruptly cut Cecil’s hateful rant short. “The letters were just a conversation he had with Ainsworth: Kinley was recently born, and father was intending for her to be betrothed to you and pave your way into the Empire as you inherit his dukedom! The ‘treasure from god’ is him bragging to the count about you, the son he’s so proud of!”

“Impossible... how would you know...”

“That’s what we talked about after the banquet. He had actually sent out someone to recover those letters after Count Ainsworth’s death so that his enemies would never uncover his weakness, only to lose a few. Those would be these letters you managed to get, I guess.”

Angora then sneered at Cecil’s look of disbelief. “Although the letters lack context, just thinking about it would uncover the truth. Only dumbasses who overanalyze everything would keep nitpicking, until they go as far as killing their own father.”

“Impossible! Impossible! Impossible! If what you say is true, would those Great Ones not realize that? They clearly believed that the god’s treasure existed! Such a thing...” Cecil’s fearsome figure began contorting after learning the unbelievable truth, his face turning even more fearsome at that.

“The ‘Great Ones’ that had your back isn’t even human, right? If they could not even understand human emotion, how would they understand love?!”

“You lie! That’s impossible! You’re trying to trick me!”

Cecil stared in horror at his hands that were now full of tumors and green pus. “Why did I... for such a laughable reason...”

His throbbing tumors and tentacles became still then.

But just as Angora thought that Cecil finally realized how ridiculous a mistake he had made, Cecil’s face turned malicious again.

“It’s all your fault! It’s all your fault! Would I have gotten into this if you never existed!? If you dared turn me into this misbegotten form, I would destroy all that you cherish, and torture you bit by bit!”

Angora’s heart skipped a bit, promptly realizing that Cecil had gone completely mad.

“Vela...”

Before he could warn her, the girl who had just dragged the now-stable Horan to safety was caught unawares. Her whole upper body was slapped off with one of Cecil’s humongous flesh appendages, and she died instantly!

“Hahahaha! Brother mine, how do you feel now?!” Cecil stared at the frozen look on Angora’s face, laughing deafeningly and maniacally.

“Cecil.”

Angora’s voice was immeasurably calm, but profound fury was lurking just beneath that serenity. “There is only one reason for your failure.”

He drew out his wand and aimed it straight at Cecil’s face of malice. “And that’s because you pissed me off!”

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