Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 363 : On Sin (1)
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
Five days had passed since Alon became a council member and unveiled his strategy against the Sin of Wrath.
“Brother.”
“Saint.”
“Just as you mentioned, the priests are due to arrive shortly.”
“The count—?”
“They represent nearly all the priests from Rosario ready for dispatch.”
“Appreciate it. Could you tell me their expected arrival time?”
“Given the long journey, probably in about two weeks.”
Alon halted his thoughts at Yuman’s response.
Two weeks.
Should the Sin of Wrath launch an assault on a nation, such a timeframe seemed excessively lenient.
Sufficient to wipe out another one or two kingdoms.
…Actually, maybe even enough to devour the whole Allied Kingdom.
Nevertheless, Alon refrained from urging Yuman further.
Impatience wouldn’t reduce the travel distance for the priests.
Moreover, others required preparation time too.
Like the warriors and knights from various kingdoms.
And Raksas’s naval fleet would need time as well.
A month.
Extended if considered long, brief if seen as short.
Yet no one could determine if it was truly ample or insufficient.
Ultimately, it hinged on the Sin’s moment of action.
“Thank you, Saint.”
As Alon inclined his head in thanks, Yuman shook his and grinned warmly.
“No thanks needed, Brother. I’m aware you’re exerting every effort to protect the world.”
“Saint…”
A surge of feeling stirred within Alon.
Naturally, those near him, such as Evan, had placed unwavering trust in him.
However, for an outsider to display such total confidence was rare.
They did believe his words.
Even so, the wary looks persisted.
And Alon fully comprehended that doubt—particularly from the kings.
Regardless of one’s remarkable feats, proclaiming knowledge on handling an irrational monster inevitably sparked skepticism.
Thus, while Alon felt a quiet surge of emotion, the Saint proceeded with a soft smile.
“Beyond that, I never anticipated you’d foreseen matters so deeply ahead.”
His words came measured and deliberate.
“…Pardon?”
Alon blinked, perplexed by the Saint’s intent.
Yet Yuman pressed on.
“Initially, I failed to grasp why the Marquis abruptly founded Divine Land.”
Alon exhaled softly.
He quickly discerned the Saint’s misconception.
“Well—”
He began to clarify, yet before uttering more—
“Upon discovering the Duchy of Luxibl was covertly assembling forces too, I felt shame for my momentary doubt in you.”
Yuman’s explanation flowed seamlessly, cutting him off.
Was correcting this misconception even necessary?
That notion briefly crossed Alon’s mind.
Then memories of prior talks with Yuman resurfaced.
No matter how often Alon stated facts, Yuman clung to his preferred beliefs.
Thus, Alon chose—
“Anyway, I have faith in you, Brother.”
To let Yuman depart with his kind smile uninterrupted.
Shortly after—
“Master!”
“Brother!”
“…Seolrang and Radan?”
“We ran into each other outside the Magic Tower.”
Seolrang and Radan stepped inside together.
“Master, hug!”
Seolrang leaped toward Alon with boundless energy, as Radan stood smiling nearby.
Radan appeared far more vibrant than during their previous encounter.
“Seems you’ve overcome your inner struggles.”
“Struggles… for me?”
“Indeed.”
“Was it obvious?”
Alon offered no straight reply.
But Radan’s subtle smile conveyed it all.
“…You truly perceive everything, Brother.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. Rest easy though. As you foresaw, nearly all issues are settled.”
Alon gave a nod.
“Rest up for now. Discussions start once everyone gathers.”
“Okay!”
“Got it.”
Seolrang replied with cheer, settling comfortably on Alon’s lap.
Radan nodded serenely at their side.
After a brief interval—
“Ah!”
Seolrang, who’d been humming joyfully while Alon caressed her ears, abruptly exclaimed as if recalling a vital matter and raised her head.
“Master! Your hand, please!”
“My hand?”
“Yep!”
Though bemused, Alon extended his hand.
Seolrang beamed and placed an item into his palm.
“What’s this…?”
“You were searching for it!”
It was the Crying Blessing from the colony—the very artifact Alon sought.
“…Did you retrieve this on your own?”
“Yup!”
Her face beamed with pride, silently urging, Praise me! Aren’t I great?
Alon smiled and tenderly patted her head.
“Thank you.”
“Hehehe~!”
With Seolrang’s help, Alon now held two artifacts.
Just one left.
Jewel of the Closed-Eyed One.
As Alon kept stroking Seolrang’s hair, savoring the peace—
“Marquis!”
Evan rushed in, urgency etched deeper than usual.
“What happened?”
To Alon’s query, Evan responded swiftly.
“The Hero’s party—no, Eliban’s group—wants to meet you!”
His report carried heightened intensity.
***
The fifth underground level of the Mage Society.
A sorcerous dungeon reserved for those who shamed the Tower and stained mages’ honor, held until sorcerers executed them.
“…Long time no see, Yan.”
Alon faced the Hero’s party.
“You haven’t forgotten my name.”
Yan replied, her features hollowed and fatigued, voice laced with subtle astonishment.
Alon shifted his eyes to her companions, equally worn and depleted.
“Naturally. Vina and Ralph come to mind as well.”
He named them and shrugged casually.
Following brief salutations, Alon went on.
“You’ll probably remain here awhile.”
“Understood.”
Yan’s face grew subtly shadowed.
In truth, Alon pitied them deeply.
The fault lay not with the Hero’s party, but Eliban.
Yet as his fellow travelers, doubt clung to them naturally, leading to their underground confinement upon Tower arrival.
It was profoundly unfair.
“Rest assured though. No harm will befall you.”
He resolved to spare them more suffering.
After all, Alon knew their innocence better than anyone.
“Thank you.”
Sensing her genuine gratitude, Alon paused before broaching the core issue delicately.
“I heard Eliban rendered you unconscious, and upon regaining senses, you hurried here to gauge events. Correct?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Could you elaborate further on those events?”
Honestly, Alon required no additional details on Eliban.
Eliban had transformed into the Sin of Wrath, bent on humanity’s ruin.
Whatever befell him wouldn’t alter the path forward.
Still, Alon inquired.
For he remained baffled.
Why had Eliban, once a world-saver, turned into a Sin?
“I wish I could explain, but it’s beyond me.”
“How so?”
“The final sight for my comrades and me was Eliban’s smile and his ‘Thank you.’ Then…”
“He attacked immediately after?”
“Yes. When we awoke…”
“I understand.”
Alon nodded silently to Yan’s muted tone.
“Prior to that—there’s vital information for you.”
“What’s that?”
“Indeed. Actually, our main reason for reaching the Tower was to relay this to you, my lord.”
Alon’s focus intensified at her statement.
After a hushed pause, Yan revealed.
“Eliban… behaved oddly.”
“Oddly how?”
“He always concealed something from us. Like possessing strength vastly superior to ours.”
“Got it.”
“Yet we never probed. Eliban embodied the classic hero—ever righteous, utterly selfless.”
“…What are you getting at?”
“Precisely that. Relentless without respite, he purged humanity’s plagues and extended kindness universally, regardless of scale.”
Alon nodded in quiet accord.
A player might act freely, but a character like Eliban defaulted to pure virtue unless twisted.
Thus, such conduct was predictable.
“Right up to the end, that trait endured. Still secretive, yet tirelessly serving all.”
“That hardly seems problematic.”
“True—outwardly.”
Yan let out a soft sigh before resuming.
“Eventually, Eliban grew fixated on renown.”
“Renown?”
“Yes. Previously indifferent, he abruptly broadcast his name widely. No embellishments… but it struck us as off.”
She murmured, “He used to ignore such matters entirely.”
“And any delay, however minor, in tackling anomalies or external dangers left him agitated—like he’d sinned.”
“Mightn’t that stem from fearing casualties from delays?”
“No, distinct. Eliban neutralized most threats pre-danger. And post-resolution, he’d…”
“Proclaim his success?”
“Exactly. From a specific juncture onward.”
Alon quieted briefly before responding.
“…Maybe his character evolved. His feats merited acclaim, surely.”
“Agreed. Even during our breaks, he soloed anomaly hunts. But no—his essence remained unchanged. Only the publicity of deeds shifted.”
“…Any other oddities?”
Yan nodded to Alon’s query.
“He frequently gazed skyward.”
“Skyward?”
“Yes. Initially, I dismissed it as quirk—he often eyed the night sky. But years together revealed truth. Eliban disliked the night sky.”
“Did he admit it?”
“No. He’d just smile at my comments.”
“Perhaps a misread then—”
“No.”
Yan’s denial rang firm.
“I can sense a cherished one’s feelings. That gaze was…”
Her words trailed, voice softening. Then she met Alon’s eyes directly.
“Truthfully, I came thinking you held answers.”
“Why presume that?”
“Eliban spoke of you, my lord… with utter honesty.”
Alon fell mute at her revelation.
No—he couldn’t respond.
For he genuinely lacked knowledge.
Clueless on Eliban’s behavioral shift.
Clueless on his sudden fame-seeking.
Clueless on his anomaly unease.
Clueless on those skyward stares at a loathed vista.
And thus—
Alon could merely brood in quiet contemplation.