Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 344 : ???? Years Old (3)

Two weeks had passed since Alon made his way back to the Marquis Palatio’s domain.

In those days, Alon savored a genuinely relaxing respite.

Naturally, he didn’t simply idle away.

He spent the majority of his hours sparring against Kylrus and delving into magical studies, yet it never drained him.

To Alon, exploring magic felt as instinctive as inhaling air.

This might stem from his persistent dedication.

“You’ve certainly progressed.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. You’re not quite there yet, sure, but managing to hold your own against me speaks volumes.”

Lately, Kylrus had begun to recognize Alon’s growth to a certain extent.

“At least you’re advancing. Don’t let one praise swell your head. You still fall short, particularly in terms of bodily agility.”

Kylrus emphasized that Alon ought to keep honing the skills he’d imparted, and Alon inquired as though he’d anticipated the moment.

“I’ve long been curious—why does bodily motion matter so much for a mage?”

Kylrus eyed Alon briefly, then shook his head in apparent dismay at the query.

“Don’t pose such basic questions. Up to now, you’ve always had allies supporting you, freeing your casting without limits. But imagine facing a foe by yourself?”

“Uh—”

As Alon faltered, Kylrus tsked softly.

“Bear this in mind: be it wizard or grand archmage, evading foes’ assaults through physical action is vital. If you merely parry or ward off blows like you currently do, survival won’t last.”

Those remarks struck Alon deeply.

“…Oh.”

Right then, Alon snapped back to the present.

Once he set the tome of past recollections off his table—

“My lord.”

“Evan…?”

He started at the sight of Evan entering.

His locks were disheveled, like he’d tumbled across the earth.

“Did you return from a stroll or similar?”

“A mere stroll wouldn’t disarray me thus, my lord.”

“Then what occurred?”

To Alon’s query, Evan breathed a sigh and gestured toward the panes.

Alon instinctively traced his line of sight.

“Release me.”

“You release first.”

“I commanded you to release.”

“Alright, we both release on the count of three.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“I said release!”

“You didn’t release ahead.”

“Without Chief, I’d have—”

Beyond, Seolrang and Ryanga gripped one another’s tresses fiercely.

Their gazes blazed with intense animosity.

“…What’s causing that?”

“I’m clueless too. I attempted to intervene briefly, and suddenly I was pulled in…”

“So you tumbled through the woods or alike?”

“Precisely. I was just flung aside.”

Mumbling, Evan released a prolonged breath.

“At least the rest appear to be faring okay.”

“The rest?”

“Aye. Considering they’ve only known each other a week, Deus and Nangwon are bonding remarkably.”

“That’s welcome tidings.”

Alon inclined his head, eased.

It wasn’t his aim, nor a major fret, yet inwardly he’d pondered if harmony would prevail.

Those Alon rescued often carried unique traits, for good or ill.

“Moreover, thanks to that, your effigy is on the verge of an upgrade, my lord.”

“…Pardon?”

“I learned Deus is enhancing it somewhat with Nangwon’s aid.”

Alon directed his eyes to the enormous sculpture rising centrally in the lands.

A figure posed like a northern leader.

“…That’s turning into an MK2…?”

No angle made it seem anything but troubling.

He regarded the monument with concern, though briefly.

“And yonder, they seem cordial enough outwardly.”

“Yonder?”

Trailing Evan’s digit, Alon spotted Yutia, Magrina, Rine, and Historia sharing tea.

They offered subtle grins, yet their looks remained composed and restrained in talk.

Only Historia sat expressionless, quietly imbibing her brew while observing.

“…It resembles scheming among elite courtiers more.”

“That’s my point. They merely appear cordial on top.”

“No, not even that cordial.”

Evan lifted his shoulders, then rubbed his jaw as a notion struck.

“On second thought, it’s odd.”

“What’s odd?”

“With six folks, it’s rare to glimpse them all from one viewport, right?”

“Hmm… yeah.”

As Evan noted, viewing every one from their spot was atypical.

It piqued curiosity.

Affirming, Alon abruptly saw their outdoor motions halt subtly.

“Regardless, my lord, that’s not my purpose here. I bear two updates. Which first?”

Alon redirected his attention to Evan.

Glancing out once more, it appeared illusory— all outside resumed fluid motion.

With a faint furrow of bewilderment, he faced Evan completely.

“What’s up?”

“Tidings on Eliban and the Magic Tower.”

“Eliban first.”

“Reports claim Eliban sealed every Rift in Ashtalon.”

“...Every single one?”

“Affirmative. Consequently, Eliban’s reputation these days is formidable.”

Alon found himself mildly astonished.

Essentially, in Psychedelia, players advance by sealing Rifts, then confront Sin with that power, yet—

He’d never sealed all Rifts in one zone during gameplay.

No, to be exact, it was impossible.

Regardless of focus on sealing, fresh Rifts emerged quicker than clearing a region fully.

Yet he achieved it.

Thus it’s feasible, Alon thought afresh, dipping his head.

“Indeed, Eliban struck me as hugely renowned.”

“Unavoidable. For years, he’s sealed vast Rifts counts gratis, even tackling Outer Gods.”

“...Eh? He handled Outer Gods as well?”

Upon Alon’s retort, Evan affirmed.

“Aye. Eliban confronted Outer Gods just prior to the latest upheaval, muting the buzz, but he’s at four already.”

Or perhaps five? Evan appended.

Only then did Alon sense a missing fragment fitting, his thoughts settling.

Ah, that explains the absence of Outer Gods thus far.

Outer Gods had occupied his musings often.

Post-Sin emergence, Outer Gods arriving was a predictable sequence.

Still, two factors kept his concern low till now.

Primarily, an Outer God’s advent would relay info somehow.

The secondary was detachment.

By this point, the realm diverged from Alon’s familiar Psychedelia.

In that vein—

He hadn’t escalated it, but denying occasional nagging thoughts would fib.

With this minor uncertainty cleared, Alon nodded.

“In any case, from those feats, Eliban’s acclaim likely surpasses yours, my lord. Folks dub him ‘Eliban the Savior’ essentially.”

“Guess I’ve overlooked the gossip.”

“You only heed intel that intrigues you, my lord.”

Evan uttered a gentle ah, then continued:

“Ah, and recently Eliban’s uttered something peculiar.”

“Like what?”

“He drops it randomly, leaving folks baffled. But from what I gathered… ‘Only a god can claim my life.’”

After pondering shortly, Alon responded.

“Doesn’t that signify his might? As in, ‘No god, no killing me.’”

“Most interpret it thus, but its abruptness has amplified the chatter.”

As Alon ruminated, chin in hand, Evan proceeded.

“Now, regarding the Magic Tower.”

“Yes, you mentioned Tower news too. What’s afoot?”

“An event transpired.”

“Dire?”

“...Well, one positive and one unclear.”

“The positive first.”

“They cracked a Second-Order spell’s code.”

“That’s excellent. What’s the unclear bit?”

“They urge you to visit the Tower, my lord. To witness it personally.”

“Visit and behold myself?”

“Correct. Heinkel conveyed that.”

Though bemused, Alon assented.

Regardless, with a Second-Order spell decoded, a trip was due.

Thus he assented, yet briefly.

“Is that your full report?”

“Essentially… Oh, one additional item.”

Evan cleared his voice.

“What?”

“In roughly a week, all prospective partners will be chosen.”

“Truly? Quicker than anticipated.”

“Ahem. Per Alexion, the ladies replied swifter than foreseen.”

“I see. Still, I haven’t heard of any arrivals.”

Alon cocked his head.

“Perhaps they came for brief chats and departed promptly.”

“Possible.”

“In any event, you can choose then.”

As Evan downplayed it—

“Understood.”

Alon merely nodded.

***

“Hoo—”

Miren, Caliban nobility and daughter to Duke Padrima, softly breathed while eyeing Marquis Palatio’s distant holdings.

As duke’s kin, she’d encountered myriad aristocrats, yet never this strain.

She’d come for a partnering interview with Marquis Palatio.

Admittedly, some might deem fuss over a marquis’s partner interview excessive.

But solely if the marquis were commonplace.

When it’s Marquis Palatio—

The narrative shifts dramatically.

Marquis Palatio.

Head of Kalpha, Asteria’s premier faction, bearer of myriad titles—

A figure wielding immense authority.

He lagged in matrimony for a gentleman, but that scarcely fazed Miren.

Initially, she sought the marquis’s influence and fortune.

“All those unanswered missives—finally bearing fruit.”

Grinning, Miren inwardly lauded her former persistence in dispatching letters sans response.

Without persistent overtures, this opening wouldn’t exist.

“Hoo—”

She composed with a deep inhalation, fleetingly musing her covert scheme.

“Lady Miren, we’re here.”

Ceasing reverie, she reapplied her smile, alighted elegantly from the coach, and proceeded to the interview chamber.

“Welcome, Lady Padrima.”

“Greetings, Sir Alexion. As per my correspondence, my deepest thanks for this chance.”

She initiated the session with a genial beam at Alexion.

Some thirty minutes elapsed in a delightful ambiance.

Owing to Padrima house’s peculiar politics, she’d navigated scheming courts since youth. Thus, embodying the “ideal lady” Alexion sought proved simple.

“This suffices.”

“Oh dear, truly?”

“Yes. Grateful for your application. If not a burden, might you linger a few days?”

“Should you permit, I gladly accept.”

To Alexion’s politeness, the lady opted to remain at the marquis’s a day.

In truth, her hasty journey induced weariness.

Shortly, led by a retainer, she entered a vast villa adjoining the estate.

“Then, summon if required—”

“Got it.”

After the aide bowed and exited, soon after—

“Lady Miren.”

“The staff?”

“I sent them away. Precautionarily, I deployed an artifact triggering a concealment incantation against spying. No risk of audio escaping.”

“Appreciate the caution.”

“Merely duty.”

The attendant curtsied, departing with, “Call upon me as needed.”

Miren observed her exit approvingly.

Upon dusk tinting the heavens, she channeled mana into a prior-prepared crystal sphere from the maid.

And—

[ Miren. ]

Viewing Duke Padrima via the orb, she inclined her head deferentially.

“I hope you’re faring well, Father.”

[ I am. How fared today? ]

“No cause for concern—it succeeded splendidly.”

[ Relieved. ]

“As I’ve reiterated, naught to fret.”

To Miren’s airy, chuckling voice, the duke sighed contemplatively, stating:

[ Not you I fret for. My concern is— ]

“The rivals, yes?”

[ Precisely. Some unknown to me, but per confidants, several competitors are formidable. ]

A gloom shadowed the duke’s visage.

Yet to his apprehension—

“I’m aware. You mentioned it, Father. But truly, no need for worry.”

She displayed a bright grin—no,

“I recognize the competitors’ strength. Yet ultimately, this isn’t a power clash. Such won’t allure Marquis Palatio greatly. Thus, what remains is—”

She sneered.

“A battle of who ensnares a man more deftly, right?”

[ …Indeed. You’re the famed Flower of Caliban, after all. I doubt you’ll falter. ]

At his approval, Miren veiled her lips with a palm, eyes alight in smile.

“So cease excessive worry, Father. Capturing an overdue-marriage marquis isn’t arduous for me. Even if prolonged, once I infiltrate his affections—”

All shall be ours, she whispered tenderly, caressing the “item” concealed in her bodice—

The very element earning her “Flower of Caliban” moniker over recent years.

Her smile had unwittingly chilled.

Yet one ignorance persisted—

That, masking incantation notwithstanding, those utterances—

“How entertaining.”

“…Quite.”

“Hm—so a pest clings to Master.”

“Mm.”

“The audacity, such impiety…!”

—reached attentive ears.