Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 335 : Perplexity (1)
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
Once the nebula descended and the intense white light engulfed every last thing, the soldiers realized they stood in a realm restored to its ordinary state.
“...Whoa.”
“This is…”
A colossal crater stretched out before their eyes.
Actually, it resembled a vast lake that had abruptly evaporated.
The scene unfolding was utterly bizarre.
“What the hell is this—”
“Is something like this even possible?”
The mages, too, reacted in much the same way.
“This is… a spell woven by a human?”
“Ooh…”
“This is the origin of ancient magic—”
Celaime, Parkline, and Sharan herself, who had been readying a backup strategy from the fortress's ramparts, whispered in a daze, their gazes brimming with wonder.
As those nearby marveled in shock, Alon—
“Are you okay, brother?”
“I’m fine.”
Released a weary breath and pressed a hand to his chest.
He had channeled every bit of inverted mana at his disposal, so he anticipated its might.
Yet he never imagined it would unleash such devastation that even he got caught in the backlash of his own incantation.
Thus, right after the magic plummeted and struck the earth, he offered thanks to Radan, who had rushed over just in time to guard him from the spell's fury.
“Thanks. That could’ve ended badly.”
“Hey— it’s nothing to fuss about, brother.”
Radan responded with a bright grin.
“By the way, do you know what happened to the others?”
“Oh, you mean Seolrang and the Hero? Seolrang got out fast, so she should be fine. And the Hero—well, nothing to worry about.”
Even while Radan scratched his chin and murmured to himself, Alon directed his attention to the dense mana pulsing close by.
There, propped against a partially ruined 'Ram’s Skull,'
lay Sloth, slumped over.
Sloth's condition was far from stable.
Likely from a botched attempt at a beastly shift, his lower body was gone, and the Ram’s Skull serving as the trigger was almost obliterated.
In essence, the wounds he bore rendered him incapable of further combat.
“So this is how it ends.”
Sloth's whisper echoed faintly.
His eyes had reverted to their former state.
The identical weary stare from his initial emergence,
which had chilled everyone to the bone.
Now, on the brink of oblivion, it remained unchanged.
A sin, yet distinct from the rest.
No—Alon regarded this sin, so divergent from the version in his recollections,
and abruptly spoke up.
“May I ask you something?”
Sloth offered no reply.
He merely gazed on in quiet.
Still, Alon pressed forward.
“What did you mean… when you said you wanted to protect something?”
Sloth had indeed uttered those words upon his debut.
That he sought to safeguard something.
And that phrase had lingered in Alon's mind ever since.
The sins from his knowledge— the sins encountered so far— matched his prior experiences precisely.
They emerged to thrive on mankind's anguish.
They acted to unleash human downfall.
They lived not for guardianship but for devastation.
However, this entity— a sin that repeatedly ushered catastrophe upon the world for motives perhaps unclear even to itself—
What on earth could it wish to shield?
Sloth, who had observed Alon wordlessly after the inquiry, finally responded.
“You all.”
“…What?”
Alon's face twisted briefly.
He failed to grasp it.
His forehead creased as he repeated the question, but Sloth, already dissolving into dust, murmured, “What I wanted to protect—”
And with that last utterance,
“—was humanity.”
He faded away entirely.
Alon, fixated on the spot where even the dust had vanished,
“…What?”
Only deepened his frown.
Yet it lasted just an instant.
He had no luxury to dwell in bewilderment.
“Brother.”
“…Ah, Radan?”
“Yeah, sorry to interrupt your thinking, but I think it’s time to say goodbye.”
“Ah—”
Radan's words snapped Alon from his reverie.
Should they delay further, the Beast of Possibility would break free soon enough.
And the Radan now present would revert to his true form.
“!”
As Alon prepared to voice a sudden query—
“Nope, brother.”
As though anticipating the question, Radan smirked.
“Remember the butterfly effect?”
“…Yeah.”
“I think this is just about the right amount of help I can give. Ah—if only I could use relics, I could’ve shown off a bit more.”
Observing Radan talk to himself, Alon interjected.
“…I feel like this much is safe to ask, though.”
“What is it? Gotta be cautious, brother.”
“Are you… from the future?”
“The future, huh. Well—”
Radan paused briefly, then affirmed with a nod.
“Strictly speaking, yeah.”
“So we know each other too, huh… No point in asking more, then.”
“Obviously. Oh—”
As Radan agreed, he recalled something abruptly and passed an item to Alon.
“Brother. When I go back to normal, can you give this to me?”
“…What is it?”
“Mmm—you’ll know when you give it to me.”
The object he offered was a blue gem.
“Didn’t you say you couldn’t speak about things because of the butterfly effect?”
“Oh, what I gave you now is from a slightly different thread.”
As Alon pondered the implication, Radan pushed the gem into his palm.
“Please. The me of this time is kinda useless, you see.”
With those words, he lifted his hand in a casual wave of parting.
“Well, I’m off now. Still got some things to say to Seolrang and the Hero.”
“…The Hero?”
“Yeah, the Hero… Oh, right, he’s called Eliban here, isn’t he?”
“For someone worried about butterfly effects, you sure are letting a lot slip.”
“Ahh—well, this much should be okay, right?”
Radan shrugged and started to depart, only to halt.
“Oh, right. I had one more thing to say.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah.”
He stepped closer to Alon once more and…
Pat
…rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Brother, believe in your own choices. You’ve never once made the wrong call.”
He delivered the message with firm resolve.
“What do you mean—”
Alon began to question the unexpected gravity—
“But now it’s really the end! Not much time left! Bye, brother!”
Radan then beamed his usual lively smile and disappeared.
For what seemed like ages, Alon stared vacantly at the void left by Radan's exit.
***
In the end, Alon claimed triumph over the Sin of Sloth in their clash.
Following the Sin of Sloth's downfall, the Black Territory dissolved as though it had never been, wrapping up all connected events.
Despite Alon's handling of Sloth, the state of the Kingdom of Ashtalon remained dire.
Owing to the black territory dispersed by the Sin of Sloth, over half the kingdom had been erased.
The castle and lands endured, of course, but such preservation held little worth.
Lands lose all significance without inhabitants to fill them.
And Ashtalon's peril struck close to Alon.
The cause lay in the “Empire.”
In the game, Psychedelia, centered on the “Allied Kingdom,” and Calipsophobia, focused on the “Empire,” stood apart.
Save for a single circumstance.
This occurred when the Allied Kingdom teetered on the edge of ruin.
Then, the Empire would invariably assault the Allied Kingdom per the game's mechanics.
And upon the Empire's onslaught, the Allied Kingdom crumbled in no time.
Alon harbored some unease regarding that element.
Nevertheless, he found it hard to dismiss a lore detail or backstory from the source material he recalled.
Alon redirected his mind to the Sin's earlier declaration.
Even as calm gradually returned, the thought persisted.
Yet he remained unable to decipher Sloth's intent.
And that made perfect sense.
The sins were eternally designed to slaughter humans, and Sloth had actively pursued global annihilation.
So why utter such a statement?
Tsk
Alon tsked his tongue, immersed in contemplation for an unknown span.
“Marquis.”
“Evan.”
“So this is where you were? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Evan drew near Alon, who observed guests casually toasting at the post-crisis banquet.
“Was someone looking for me?”
“There were quite a few people, but that’s not why I came. It’s just that you disappeared all of a sudden, and you don’t look too well.”
“I just had something to think about.”
“Isn’t that what beds are for?”
“Well, that’s true.”
Alon answered distractedly while glancing at the floor below.
“Ooooh—this mighty beast is the very one that took care of those meat blobs earlier—”
[Ahem~!!]
“Ooooh~!”
Flanked by mages and basking in the spotlight, Basiliora held her head high with pride.
[Meow…]
Meanwhile, Blackie lounged on a separate table, munching away, and shot it a look of pure contempt.
Even so, Blackie drew admiration from mages and swelled with self-importance.
At last, Alon noted the throng of nobles encircling Eliban and commented.
“They seem to be having fun.”
“I really can’t stand Basiliora. It’s been like that for almost two hours. It must be starving for attention.”
Evan tsked in annoyance.
“Well, it was a god, after all.”
“Do all gods crave attention that badly…?”
“Well—”
As Alon prepared to reply that not every one did, Kalannon sprang to mind.
The white cat frolicking in the Divine Land, striving in every way to reclaim her divinity.
“It’s a matter of survival, after all.”
“…But that thing’s not even a god anymore. It’s just a pet, right? Not needed.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
Alon agreed with a nod, prompting Evan to exhale heavily.
Then, as if struck by a recollection, Alon inquired,
“Evan, have you heard anything about the Jewel of the Closed-Eyed One?”
“Ah, not yet.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But they said they’ve found a clue, so they asked for a little more time.”
After verifying the update,
“Let’s head down.”
Setting aside the lingering mysteries, they proceeded to their quarters.
“Excuse me, are you Marquis Palatio?”
“…Yes, and you are?”
On the descending stairs, a mage confronted them.
Clad in a red robe, he seemed considerably older than Alon.
He bowed low without warning.
Then—
“I’m Gunan Croatz, a professor at the Red Tower.”
“Ah, I see—”
“Well, I’m pretty good at simple computation, and I contributed quite a bit to one of the Red Tower’s theses, ‘Atia’s Intermediate Paradox.’”
“I… see.”
“I also developed a spell called ‘Atius Core,’ which is based entirely on basic calculations, and it—”
He dove into a fervent personal pitch.
“…?”
“…?”
Alon, puzzled, glanced at Evan.
But—
“…??”
Evan merely cocked his head, equally baffled.
“Ahem, I suppose I’ve rambled too long. Anyway, that’s that.”
With that, the Red Tower professor vanished.
Still rattled and harboring fresh doubts, Alon pressed on to his quarters.
“Ah, Marquis Palatio! There you are~!”
“…And you are?”
“Ah, my apologies. I’m Uyarne Palbin, a full professor from the Blue Tower.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Ahem, just to introduce myself—have you perhaps heard of the papers ‘Kreuz’s Reverse Calculations’ or ‘Zalman’s General Operations’ in the field of basic computation?”
“…??”
Thus commenced yet another spontaneous, offbeat introduction from a mage.
“Hello! Marquis! I’m from the Violet Tower—”
“I’m from the Blue Tower!”
En route, Alon endured two additional boasts about “basic calculation” from various mages.
He grew thoroughly baffled by the occurrences and at last reached his chamber.
The next day—
“Good morning, Marquis! I’m from the Red Tower—”
“I’m from the Green Tower—”
“…??”
Upon rising, mages flooded his room unbidden.
Another round of the introduction frenzy unfolded, leaving Alon sensing something amiss.
Then, roughly two hours in—
“Greetings, Marquis! Interviewee Number 19! I’m a mage from the Green Tower named Torin! I’m really confident in my basic calculations! If you choose me—!”
Eventually, mages started shouting self-assigned interview numbers—figures unfamiliar to Alon— and hawked themselves with utmost sincerity.
“…??”
With hands clasped, Alon sat motionless, his thoughts swirling in utter bewilderment.