Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 332 : In the name of Sloth (5)
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
Kingdom of Fildagreen.
“Hoo—”
Lately, Rine Groff had immersed herself thoroughly in studying the concept of sin.
If things had stayed as they were at the start, it might have turned into a pleasant session over tea, all while chasing after wisdom—or rather, just more chances to watch over her godfather.
Yet, sadly—
A certain individual had shattered the badge given to her godfather, which lightened her duties considerably.
Because of this, Rine had devoted a large chunk of her recent hours to digging into research.
Even with centuries behind her, vast amounts of information remained beyond her full understanding or reach.
And on this day—
For the very first time, she uncovered some truly relevant details regarding sin.
Sure, it didn't uncover the core essence of sin itself.
Still, in certain respects, it shed light on the reason the last version of sin had been handled with such surprising ease.
She was already aware that sin's apostles were out there, handpicking the container for sin's rebirth.
Up until now, she'd figured they were merely selecting a person who could sync up nicely with sin.
The idea that the host's own skills could actually shift based on the choice hadn't crossed her mind.
For some time, she went over the details she'd come across.
The deeper she delved, the more uncertainties popped up.
The text plainly stated that sin's might fluctuated wildly according to the host it took form in—but beyond that, nothing more surfaced.
Inevitably, a query bubbled up in her thoughts.
She hadn't sifted through every document yet, leaving the precise cause a mystery.
Likely, the tome she'd just discovered didn't hold the key either.
After mulling over her uncertainties for a bit, Rine chose to concentrate on the volume at hand and shut her eyes once more.
Suddenly, as though it were all an illusion, the library's vivid layout sprang to life in her head, and she continued turning the pages of the text she'd been absorbed in.
Soon enough, after mentally devouring the whole book—
“……”
Her eyes fluttered open again, face a touch rigid.
As anticipated, no resolution to her puzzle emerged.
That said, she managed to verify yet again the stark contrast in strength when sin embodied a mighty host.
Gazing at her now-chilled tea, she sank back into contemplation to unravel the mystery.
***
The clash had ignited.
Three formidable presences surged toward Alon high above—
BOOOOM—!
Yet their path forward was completely halted.
Thus, the fierce confrontation involving Seolrang, Radan, and Eliban, who dashed in to intercept and destroy them, kicked off.
The scene was utterly dominant.
Right before Alon's view, bursts of golden light danced as Seolrang's form flickered in and out of sight over and over.
Without Reverse Heaven active, even spotting that split-second glimpse would have been out of reach.
Seolrang, looping through such maneuvers, was essentially playing cat and mouse with Dragon Lance.
A heavy slam echoed as the spear hammered into the earth and the cliff face.
In a flash, it hovered suspended in the air once more.
The very next beat, it plunged down with force enough to pulverize the whole Black Territory.
The foe's form kept shattering and rebuilding itself.
However, the rebuilding pace was visibly decelerating, hinting at its boundaries being tested.
The same held true for Hidden Swordsman.
Myriad artifacts plummeted from the heavens.
Not just pinned in place, but multiple artifacts lodged deep in its back, impossible to dislodge.
Hidden Swordsman struggled to retaliate against Radan effectively.
And regarding Millennium Ice—
CRACK!
He stood no chance to resist.
The instant Millennium Ice attempted any action, Eliban's blade struck—
And right away, his arms and legs were lopped off.
Millennium Ice hastily regrew his missing parts to mount some defense, yet Eliban's sword evaded nothing.
A staggering gap in prowess.
Alon, who had descended from the vessel after wrapping up the strategy's setup, cocked his head while observing Eliban.
Even assuming Eliban was at peak level from the game—
He hadn't foreseen such dominance against a Sin brimming with endless mana.
Ultimately, though, Eliban's might was the sole factor maintaining the equilibrium.
“Hoo—”
Alon clutched his forehead, reeling from the nonstop Reverse Heaven strain.
He compelled his lids apart and scanned the surroundings.
The fray raging across the Black Territory resembled an all-out conflict.
Basiliora smashed and erased the ceaselessly reviving dark entities.
The troops mercilessly cut down the swarming meat heaps advancing on the fortress barriers and nearby areas.
Ideal equilibrium.
The very second that thought crossed Alon's mind—
Snap—!
All motion froze.
The mighty entities in mid-stride halted abruptly, as if it were all a fabrication.
The meaty hordes lunging at the fighters dropped like marionettes with severed cords.
THUD THUD THUD—
The twitching flesh attempting to heal under the now-unarmored Basiliora dispersed without life.
And replacing it—
It materialized.
“Ah—”
A hushed utterance.
A gentle, subdued sigh.
Even so, that sound alone pulled every eye in the vicinity to one spot.
At an unknown juncture—
A solitary figure had emerged within the Black Territory.
No—he wasn't of human kind.
His frame mimicked humanity.
Yet all those assembled sensed it clearly.
That presence was no mortal.
“Hmm—”
White locks.
More youthful boy than grown man, he stared ahead with empty eyes.
Each orb held two pupils drifting unnervingly inside.
Enveloped in darkness as deep as the Black Territory, he blankly surveyed his surroundings.
All onlookers—
Could discern his feeling.
He seemed lacking drive.
He appeared uninterested.
He looked fatigued.
He seemed fidgety.
He came off sleepy, and he—
Simply embodied laziness.
And steadily, as his sight gradually roamed—
It came to rest.
On Alon.
The four strangely marked pupils fixed on Alon.
And Alon, in turn, regarded the Sloth with bewilderment.
Alon recognized the Sin of Sloth.
Meaning, he recalled its typical appearance.
Apart from the white hair, it matched his memory perfectly.
But the baffling part for Alon was the demeanor.
The Sin of Sloth from his knowledge burned with fury—so intense that "Sloth" hardly suited it.
Yet this entity differed sharply.
It perfectly captured the essence of its label.
It radiated no aura of threat.
It merely observed him, empty of any purpose.
Faced with that odd mismatch, Alon's bewilderment deepened.
Thud—
Sloth settled down.
Legs folded, chin propped on one bent knee, eyes locked on Alon.
A stance screaming zero intent for combat.
But no one there could budge against Sloth's vibe.
No—they weren't merely pausing.
“Guh—”
“Ggk—”
Gradually, individuals started gasping, as though air evaded their lungs.
Sloth hadn't lifted a finger.
No mana dispersed, no oppressive force emanated.
He just plopped down right there, displaying utter disinterest in battling.
Still, the weight of his being alone crushed distant spectators, sending soldiers tumbling unconscious.
Soldiers dropped one after another.
A shiver crawled up Celaime and Parkline's backs.
Seolrang, Radan, and Eliban's faces darkened further.
Even amid that tension, he only eyed Alon with bored detachment.
“You guys plan on fighting, don’t you?”
He parted his lips unhurriedly.
Unlike past sin incarnations, this bid for calm dialogue left Alon stunned for a second.
After a quick pause for thought, Alon replied.
“...Yeah.”
“There’s no way to avoid fighting, is there?”
“Weren’t you the one who started the fight?”
Upon hearing that, the Sin of Sloth eyed Alon briefly.
“Because I want to protect it.”
He whispered, a trace of sorrow flickering in his lazy gaze.
“What...?”
Alon shot back instinctively.
It made no sense.
Why would a creature with this temperament show up in his path?
Why utter words like those?
In his experience, the Sloth he knew was purely a slaughterer, cutting down humans without mercy.
But Sloth ignored Alon's knee-jerk query.
Instead—
Remaining seated, Sloth exhaled softly, glanced at him briefly, and stated,
“One minute.”
Just so—
“For the next one minute, I won’t move from here.”
He drawled indolently.
“What did you say?”
“No matter what kind of attack you launch, I’ll take it all. So that you’ll be convinced.”
So you won’t feel any regret about dying to me.
So you won’t resent it.
Murmuring thus, Sloth added,
“All right, begin.”
He uttered softly.
A short hush followed, then the initial mover was—
BOOOOOM!!
Seolrang.
Grinning openly, she bolted forward, materializing in front of Sloth swifter than thought—
CRACKLEEEE—!!!
Shrinking her frame to its utmost limit directly before Sloth—
—!!!!
She hurled the Sin upward.
Air exploding, Sloth's form rocketed skyward.
Simultaneously, Eliban and Radan, who had stared in daze moments prior, sprang into action.
They weren't alone.
“I guess we’d better prepare.”
“Everyone, get ready.”
Celaime, Parkline, and the mages, who had observed silently till now, unleashed their incantations as if the cue had finally arrived.
50 seconds.
Sloth's frame, propelled aloft by Seolrang—
Got carved by Eliban's edge and pounded into the dirt.
Next, Radan's massive blade hammered down upon it.
Crimson sprayed from Sloth's lips.
And right then—
Though it flashed for just an instant—
Alon caught sight of it.
On Sloth's features, previously etched with nothing but tedium—
A subtle grin—
...A spark of hope gleamed faintly.
40 seconds.
“Crack-crack—”
Thunder amassed around Seolrang as she hovered in the air.
Golden bolts bridged ground and heavens.
—!!!!
Bolts lanced down, searing every sight.
Right on its heels, Radan's greatsword descended, tearing the atmosphere and pulverizing the terrain.
30 seconds.
Mages' enchantments poured onto the smoke-shrouded earth.
Magic soared like a nocturnal galaxy, then plummeted with accuracy, tearing the landscape asunder.
As though to seal the deal—
A colossal fire column surged, poised to devour everything in existence.
20 seconds.
As the blaze faded, Celaime's casting solidified into a huge ice mass stabbing through the fractured soil.
It ascended like an enormous frozen citadel, sparkling akin to a vast purple gem.
Sloth got encased in frost and yanked from the depths.
10 seconds.
Eliban, set with determination for the killing strike, clasped his sword's handle.
With an eerie whoosh, he unsheathed at blinding velocity.
The ascending ice exploded, stirring the haze.
And inside that broken frost—
As Radan thrust the trident in his grasp into the grounded Sloth—
0 seconds.
Radan comprehended.
His weapon hadn't pierced Sloth's core.
With all haze dispersed—
All those assembled beheld it.
“Ah.”
Sloth's state was wretched.
Blood trickled from his mouth.
His form bore countless injuries, large and minor.
The strikes had undeniably connected and inflicted harm.
Nevertheless—
Even so—
“...Ah.”
Sloth's look stayed indifferent.
No—
It wasn't indifference.
That look—
That look—
“…You couldn’t kill me.”
The sentiment across Sloth's face—was regret.