Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 328 : In the Name of Sloth (1)

In the eastern desert of the Colony.

A short distance from Ashtalon.

"Hoo—"

Eliban gazed blankly at the Milky Way twinkling overhead in the dark sky.

He remained utterly motionless, without a single shift.

How much time had slipped by in that pose?

"What’s keeping you so lost, Eliban?"

Yan settled beside him, and at last, Eliban shifted his gaze.

"Just gazing at the stars above."

"You seem to have a real fondness for the night sky, huh?"

"Is that how it comes across?"

"You pass several nights weekly just sitting by yourself, staring up like this, don’t you?"

After Yan’s remark, Eliban fixed his eyes on the Milky Way in silence before replying.

"Do I appear to take pleasure in it?"

"Uh—don’t you?"

"Truth be told, I don’t particularly care for it."

Yan’s eyes widened in astonishment at Eliban’s words.

"So why do you keep staring at it so often?"

Eliban offered no response to Yan’s query.

Rather, he steered the conversation elsewhere.

"What about the rest of the group?"

"They’re winding down for the night shortly. Dinner’s already been finished by everyone."

"Is that so?"

Eliban’s pivot in topic was obvious and direct.

Yet Yan merely gave a casual shrug.

This wasn’t the initial occasion for such a dodge from Eliban, leaving Yan accustomed to it.

Taking Eliban’s cue, Yan lifted his own gaze to the heavens quietly, then posed his question gradually.

"Oh, by the way, Eliban."

"Yeah?"

"Regarding Marquis Palatio. Is everything truly fine?"

"Out of nowhere?"

Eliban responded with evident puzzlement.

Yan gave a firm nod.

"Lately, plenty of chatter has swirled around Marquis Palatio, hasn’t it? Things like his abrupt claim to a personal domain and such."

"…Oh, you’re referring to those whispers of launching a fresh realm?"

"Exactly. The buzz remains mostly favorable for now, but should he truly claim the throne, it’s bound to spark widespread carnage."

Yan’s observation rang true as ever.

Whenever a newcomer rose to supreme heights, piles of bodies and rivers of blood were inevitable—history bore witness time and again.

"And?"

"I get that you admire the Marquis, but doesn’t this clash with the ‘peace’ you hold so dear?"

"Clashing with ‘peace’… hmm."

Eliban appeared lost in profound thought briefly.

"No."

"…Huh?"

"In fact, I see it as a positive step."

His statement came out straightforward.

Yan moved to probe further, yet Eliban pressed on without pause.

"Are you assuming I say this out of fondness for Marquis Palatio?"

"…To be frank, yes."

Though Yan paused briefly, he nodded in affirmation.

Still, Eliban offered a gentle smile and countered.

"Not at all."

"…Not at all?"

"Sure, I do hold affection for the Marquis. Yet beyond mere liking… it fits squarely with my objectives."

"The Marquis ascending as king… matches your objectives?"

Yan echoed in disbelief, struggling to follow.

He was aware.

Of how Eliban harbored an oddly intense fondness for Marquis Palatio.

However, concerning his pursuit of ‘peace,’ Eliban remained resolute, almost ruthlessly so.

Even regarding Marquis Palatio, observers would expect no concessions from Eliban.

His devotion to ‘peace’ stood firm and unyielding.

From certain angles, it bordered on sheer arrogance.

So rigid it verged on the unnatural.

Thus, Yan found himself utterly stunned.

For he discerned the sincerity in Eliban’s claim.

"Well, I wouldn’t anticipate you grasping it yet."

Noting Yan’s stunned look, Eliban grinned and rose to his feet gradually.

Then he added.

"But you’ll comprehend it shortly. My true intent."

His murmured phrase proved elusive to fully decipher.

In the end, declaring his intent to rest, he made for the camp.

Yan observed Eliban’s retreating figure in quiet for some time.

***

Over a week and some days had elapsed since Alon’s arrival at the Magic Tower.

In that span, Alon had acquired substantial progress.

Should he highlight two major gains.

One involved mastering, courtesy of Heinkel, a swifter approach to decoding layered spells, unlike prior efforts.

The second was—

[Well?]

—successfully unraveling "Magic Bolt," a spell of the first tier.

"Wow—"

"You cracked it in merely a week."

Penia voiced her awe with excitement, while Alon agreed with a nod, and Heinkel simply gave a nonchalant shrug.

[Well, calling it "a week" could mislead. You both had advanced considerably already, and I merely organized and wrapped it up.]

Heinkel replied with modesty.

Admittedly, her words carried humility in tone alone—her demeanor screamed, "Ahem, this feat belongs solely to me."

[Moreover, it’s not entirely finalized, is it? The sigils remain to be located.]

"Still, the pace was impressive."

Heinkel held truth in her point.

She had intervened only after Alon and Penia unearthed the bulk of the incantations.

Yet assembling those into coherent structure demanded far greater challenge.

Left to just Alon and Penia, completion would have stretched to one or two months, far beyond a single week.

[Hmm, hold back on the flattery. This round sped up thanks to my fresh technique. Second-tier incantations will demand much more time.]

Evan, observing from close by, inquired.

"So, Marquis. Planning another display this time?"

"Display?"

"Indeed."

Alon inclined his head.

"Though the sigils elude us still, attempting a basic show seems worthwhile. But what prompts the question?"

Evan rubbed his head sheepishly at that.

"Well, previously with ‘Light’ spell, things escalated that way, didn’t they?"

"They did?"

"Now… I’m simply eager to see what emerges."

"I was mildly intrigued myself."

Alon consented to Evan’s follow-up remark.

Prior to securing every phrase and structure, testing the spell proved impossible, fueling his own curiosity.

[Shall we proceed immediately then? My interest is piqued as well.]

"A spell showcase?"

"I’d love to witness it too~"

Upon Heinkel’s suggestion, Celaime and Sharan instantly brightened.

Moments earlier, they resembled weary undead, tirelessly jotting notes on parchment, but now vitality surged through them.

Merely a week in, their poised tower lord auras had faded entirely.

They evoked memories of exhausted graduate scholars Alon once spotted wandering university grounds, rendering him briefly wordless.

"Let’s head out without delay then."

He brushed off his attire and rose.

"To the showcase chamber?"

"Better to trial it in the open air."

"Oh, true—the showcase chamber’s undergoing repairs currently."

"It’s less about the repairs... you recall what happens if we wreck it once more."

Penia paused briefly before chiming in.

"Truthfully? I suspect they’d welcome a novel spell even at the cost of demolition."

"...You think?"

"Absolutely."

"Yeah, whenever I descend to liaise with the intel guild, inquiries about it flood in daily."

Noting Evan’s shudder of revulsion at the mere recollection, Alon prepared to enact the Magic Bolt.

***

The northern expanse of Ashtalon Kingdom.

"What... in the world is that—"

Filian Merkiliane, dispatched northward by King Shtalian V to evaluate the crisis, along with his knights, gaped in stunned silence at the widespread ruin unfolding across the fields.

No—did this qualify as a field any longer?

Filian Merkiliane froze in place, his stare locked unyieldingly.

The initial sight to strike him was the scorched, ashen earth.

Across that shadowed terrain, once-vibrant foliage had morphed into a blood-soaked expanse.

Shattered barriers and domains stained crimson lay in utter devastation everywhere.

Next, another detail seized his attention.

Squelch—squelch—squelch—

Individuals.

Squelch—

Squelch—squelch—

Squelch—

A dull rhythm resounded in their hearing.

It amounted to nothing more than the repetitive thrust of an object, stripped of all feeling.

The knights—and Filian Merkiliane.

They recognized the origin of that noise.

Ignorance was impossible.

The cause loomed directly in view.

A male and a female appeared before them.

The pair donned identical rings upon their ring fingers.

The male drove a blunt edge into the female’s already ravaged midsection.

Squelch—

Squelch—squelch—

Squelch—

His ceaseless movements betrayed zero sentiment.

As though fulfilling an unavoidable duty, he persisted without bias.

Yet oddly, crimson tears streamed from the man’s vacant gaze.

Conversely, the female enduring the stabs without opposition—

Crunch—crack—

—gnawed and ripped at the man’s throat using her jaws.

Similar to him, bloody tears trailed down as she mechanically masticated and expelled his tissue.

Nor did it stop there.

In one spot, a youth carved into an elder’s spine.

In another, troops absently pierced knights’ necks.

Further off, a youth devoured a maiden’s skull.

It defied reason.

Utterly grotesque—

Filian struggled to process the spectacle.

The knights fared no better.

Their vision relayed stark details to their minds, yet comprehension faltered.

Curiously, it evoked a nocturnal vision.

Despite the vista mirroring infernal torment plainly.

Filian pondered the cause.

And promptly, insight dawned.

"No noise."

Precisely—essential clamor was absent.

No agonized wails typical of conflict.

No metal strikes.

No cries from throats.

Zero.

Only the rending of tissue prevailed here.

This otherworldly display eroded all realism for the knights.

At the instant collective awareness struck—

"Uwaaagh!!"

One crumpled with a piercing yell and retched on the spot.

Terror flooded every knight’s gaze in unison.

Amid the turmoil, Filian uttered calmly.

"Second-in-command."

His complexion had drained to pallor, nausea imminent.

Nevertheless, the second-in-command steadied himself to affirm and reply.

"Does this match the location?"

"Affirmative. Trimane it is."

Trimane.

Count Harvest’s holdings, famed as the realm’s "gold mine domain." A sprawling region teeming with inhabitants.

"Ha—"

Upon the briefing, Filian exhaled a hollow chuckle.

"From the sites His Majesty tasked us to inspect up to this point, how many hamlets and domains total?"

"Eight hamlets and one domain."

"Thus, these as well—"

The second-in-command offered no verbal reply.

He merely acknowledged in quiet.

Filian dropped his sight.

Even presently, like darkness inching past daylight, the shadowed zone crept onward steadily.

Observing it, he remembered the sovereign’s directive.

"Filian Merkiliane, with three key envoys unreturned, verify the facts. Proceed covertly, informing none others."

An utterly direct mandate.

But as Filian reflected on this near-unfeasible directive—

"Second-in-command."

"Yes."

"Return forthwith to His Majesty and relay this crisis. The others, follow me to alert adjacent hamlets and domains."

"Understood."

"And ensure the full report reaches His Majesty in tandem."

After brief contemplation, Filian resolved firmly.

"Concealment ends here."

With those words, he spurred into swift action.

Meantime, the dark shroud kept devouring land without cease.

Indeed, boundlessly.

***

"...Madness."

Evan let the word escape unwittingly, then hastily clamped his hand over his lips.

Such slips might occur privately with Alon or Penia, but not in this company.

"Insane—"

"Utterly beyond comprehension."

Yet to soothe Evan’s unease, Celaime and Sharan—freshly curious—now burst out in dismay.

"This... counts as Magic Bolt?"

Even Alon, the caster himself, displayed rare astonishment, his features alive with feeling.

[...Last time stunned me too, but this defies belief.]

At length, Heinkel, who had stared in daze, whispered.

[Without the sigil invoked, correct?]

"Correct."

[So, does a sigil exist for channeling or gathering power?]

Heinkel queried urgently, inspiration flashing.

Following extended discussion on the matter, Alon at last declared.

"...Come morning, I’ll test along those lines."

[Not immediately?]

"I’d prefer to, yet regrettably, my mana reserves—"

[Ah—]

Heinkel assented knowingly.

"Is that truly Magic Bolt?"

"It strains credulity, yet it is."

"But it diverged so sharply? This instance especially, the might seems to vary wildly with mana input~"

"I hadn’t foreseen such adaptability."

"My sentiments exactly."

"I wonder the extent if you funneled every drop of mana in. How immense might it become?"

Sharan, Celaime, and Penia exchanged views while descending the tower.

Upon attaining the ground level—

"...?"

Alon detected an odd shift.

Prior to ascending, the tower buzzed with activity and chatter, but now a grave hush enveloped it.

Alon scanned the surroundings, noting the mages’ expressions.

Each bore a glazed, grave, or knitted look, as if wrestling with the unfolding events.

"Hey—"

"Ah, Tower Master—"

"What’s the matter?"

As Celaime inquired, attuned to the mages’ strained air—

"A dispatch arrived from the Violet Tower. It appears a dire event has struck Ashtalon."

A mage, previously cradling his brow, provided the response at last.

"...Dire? In what manner?"

"Heard the tales circulating about Ashtalon?"

"Those involving beasts turning on one another?"

"Precisely. Of late, in Ashtalon’s northern reaches—"

The mage relayed the details naturally to Alon’s companions.

"Reports describe a shadowed zone inciting frenzy that steadily engulfs the terrain."

Once the account concluded—

"A shadowed zone?"

Alon reiterated.

"Yes, indeed. A formerly unseen blight now devours the landscape."

Alon swiftly apprehended the gravity afflicting Ashtalon.

At minimum, based on his knowledge—

"...The Sin of Sloth."

—this marked its manifestation.

"Thus, an urgent call for aid has issued to all Allied Kingdoms, the Tower included."

The mage articulated haltingly, forcing out the words.

"Evidently... the scheduled spell showcase tomorrow must wait."

Alon found himself compelled to rush toward Ashtalon without delay.