Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 376 : A Birthday Without Memories (1)

“Marquis?”

“Yes?”

“Well, your expression doesn’t look very good.”

“Mine?”

“Ah—usually your face doesn’t show much, but I can still tell a little.”

While Alon was deeply immersed in thought, Evan voiced his observation.

Alon paused briefly before responding.

“It’s nothing.”

“...............Is that so? Strange.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Well, I just got chills for some reason.............”

“......Why am I being treated like this...............?”

Penia immediately began to bicker, never missing a beat.

Evan naturally chimed in, and the two devolved into their typical squabble.

Alon quietly observed them, his mind elsewhere.

Ultimately, Alon never received a clear answer from the predecessor—or rather, from *it*—regarding how it possessed such knowledge.

[You’ll discover it naturally. That is, if you can truly achieve “Heavenly Law Creation” and ascend to godhood.]

That was the sole response he obtained.

He contemplated posing another question, but soon abandoned the idea.

The reason was simple.

There was no method to compel its tightly sealed lips to reveal more.

Moreover, time was rapidly dwindling.

‘Then how in the blazes did I become a Divine Blood in the first place?’

Instead, Alon shifted his inquiry to something else—how he himself had attained the status of Divine Blood.

It simply offered a shrug.

[Did I not tell you? No life ever born in this world can achieve Divine Blood status. This realm was exclusively created for the nurturing of gods.]

[No matter how much faith or devotion one accumulates, they merely extend their lifespan or become imperfect parodies of the Divine Blood. But you, you are different, aren’t you?]

[Certainly, that alone does not suffice to become a god. To become Divine Blood, faith and belief are prerequisites. But by sheer coincidence... you possessed all of them.]

It was as if everything had been meticulously arranged beforehand.

Its voice resonated within his memory.

[You possessed faith. You had followers who would nurture that faith into true worship. And through your conflict with the One Who Bears It, you successfully imprinted the image of a ‘god’ onto the inhabitants of this world—so seamlessly, it was nearly flawless.]

Then, with a subtle smile, it added,

[That is why you were able to become a Divine Blood.]

That was its explanation.

And Alon listened intently as it continued, discussing the Creation.

[Allow me to preface this by stating: it will require a considerable amount of time for you to reach Creation.]

‘Time?’

[There exist four distinct stages of transcendence.]

[The first is the perception of all phenomena.]

[The second is the integration within them.]

[The third is the inscription of reason itself.]

[The fourth is the embodiment of providence.]

[And the stage you must attain is the second one—Harmony.]

‘Then… will I truly be able to reach Creation?’

[You will be able to emulate it, at the very least.]

It replied with a luminous smile.

‘How do I train for that?’

[Do not concern yourself. Even without my guidance, you will come to understand it naturally. However, truth be told, that is not the most critical matter at present.]

‘Didn’t you just say that was the most important thing?’

[Indeed. But you must survive until you reach the second stage, must you not?]

‘.......’

[Heed this advice. Increasing your cultivation rank is significant—but above all else, you must achieve mastery over your magic.]

‘Mastery… huh.’

[Precisely, mastery. You must compensate for your current deficiencies. Only then can you contend with them. Thus, I reiterate—remember, you possess potential, but—]

‘Until that potential fully blooms, I will remain dangerously vulnerable… huh.’

Alon let out a sigh, recalling its parting words.

His mind was a whirlwind of everything he had absorbed.

The truths it had imparted were too profound to dismiss.

Yet, more than anything else, after hearing those statements, one name kept resurfacing in his thoughts—

Eliban.

Alon reflected on Eliban’s past actions.

In the past, he might not have grasped the significance.

But now, with all the disparate pieces in his possession, the full picture was beginning to emerge.

The deliberated actions of Eliban, who had meticulously arranged everything.

Alon pondered these revelations with deep intensity.

Yet, despite his most concerted efforts, no definitive answer materialized.

He could not fathom the reason behind Eliban’s conduct, which seemed as if every event had been predetermined.

Consequently, his thoughts grew increasingly heavy.

For an extended period.

***

Several weeks elapsed.

Alon made his return to the Palatio Marquisate for a period of recuperation.

……Although describing it as mere rest might be an overstatement.

There remained pressing matters such as the royal decree, Siyan’s requested meeting, the administration of the Divine Land, and the ongoing estate management.

However, sheer exhaustion compelled him to prioritize a respite first.

Naturally, this did not equate to idleness.

After all, he had received a stark warning from *it*, and Alon was not obtuse enough to disregard such counsel.

And so—

“Hmm… still no substantial progress.”

“It appears that way.”

Alon was engaged in arcane research alongside Penia.

More accurately, he was refining his spells as per the prior advice.

“But Marquis, in all honesty… isn’t this kind of impossible?”

“......Is it?”

“Yes. You essentially amplify your spells’ potency to its absolute limit using ‘phrases’ and ‘incantations,’ correct?”

As Alon offered a silent nod, Penia continued her explanation.

“But attempting to cast spells of equivalent power with virtually no incantation… doesn’t that strike you as rather absurd?”

Despite her polite demeanor, her tone clearly conveyed: ‘Isn’t that unreasonably difficult?’

Alon rubbed the back of his head.

Her assessment was not inaccurate.

Still, the rationale behind his persistent efforts was undeniably clear.

In his considered opinion, if he truly wished to elevate his magical prowess, this was the sole viable path forward.

Alon’s arcane abilities were formidable—perhaps unparalleled among contemporary sorcerers.

However, this immense power bore a significant cost: specific phrases and incantations were required.

This requirement became a substantial vulnerability.

Up to this point, he had managed to mitigate this drawback with the assistance of his comrades and by delving into the methods of the Outer Gods and Sins he had previously encountered.

But from this juncture forward, such mitigation would prove impossible.

The reason being, the Divine Bloods he was set to confront next… were nowhere to be found within the game’s parameters.

“Phew—”

A quiet exhalation escaped Alon’s lips.

To wield magic that derived its strength from inherent risks, yet to desire its potent application without any repercussions—even to Alon himself, this ambition sounded akin to a child’s obstinacy.

Nevertheless, the core issue remained: regardless of how childish the desire might seem, he absolutely had to discover a means to achieve it.

As he ran a hand through his hair, deep in thought and genuinely perplexed, Penia, who had been observing him silently, tentatively interjected.

“...My Lord.”

“Yes?”

“If you truly cannot let go of this desire, I believe I might know of a method... Would you be amenable to hearing it?”

“A method exists?”

“Indeed. Ah, naturally, it offers no absolute guarantee. It’s more akin to… something that can expand your imaginative scope, you understand?”

“What precisely do you mean?”

Noticing his burgeoning curiosity, Penia paused briefly before slowly elaborating.

A short while later—

“So, you are proposing that there is an elixir known as the Regressive Elixir, and upon consuming it, one’s mind temporarily reverts to a childlike state?”

“Technically, it is only the mental faculties that regress.”

“By how many years?”

“Approximately ten to thirteen years prior to the present.”

“Hm.”

Alon pondered this revelation.

Or perhaps more accurately—he tilted his head in sheer incredulity and queried,

“How could such a thing possibly be of assistance?”

“I believe it can be,” Penia affirmed.

“...Truly?”

“Yes.”

“However, if my mind reverts a decade, would I not forfeit all arcane knowledge acquired? How would that offer any benefit?”

In response to Alon’s bewildered inquiry, Penia spoke in a reassuring tone.

“You are able to leave an imprint.”

“An imprint?”

“Precisely. You imprint it upon your subconscious. Even if your younger self from ten years ago cannot consciously grasp the information, you will retain the foundational elements—clues leading to arcane concepts that your current self cannot even conceive of. To put it plainly, you would effectively erase everything except your memories pertinent to magic.”

“...Is such a feat achievable?”

“It is. Well—there may be a degree of disorientation for a day or two.”

Penia suddenly exclaimed, “Ah!” and hastily appended,

“For your information, I am not merely fabricating this.”

“……You are not?”

“Certainly not! … The Red Tower Master and the Green Tower Master both employed this very technique to ascend to the 8th Rank, you know?”

“……By this method?”

“Yes!”

Penia responded with unwavering certainty, nodding firmly.

Alon consequently fell into silence.

Frankly, mere moments ago, he had suspected Penia was presenting yet another peculiar concoction.

But if the Red and Green Tower Masters served as precedents, the situation was indeed altered.

“There are no inherent dangers, correct?”

“None that I am aware of. Furthermore, should any adverse effects manifest, the process can be reversed. The duration is limited to approximately two weeks, in any case.”

“Two weeks…”

This duration seemed preferable to remaining inert, prompting Alon to give a nod of assent.

“When will it be ready?”

“In fact, I already have one vial prepared for potential future use. Once you master the technique of imprinting the knowledge, you will be able to ingest it immediately.”

“……Let us proceed with this plan.”

He embraced Penia’s proposition.

***

Approximately one month hence.

Yutia Bloodia was traversing the grounds of the Palatio Marquisate estate.

A pleasant smile graced her countenance.

Under normal circumstances, she ought to have been in Rosario, not present at this location.

However, the reason for her current presence here—

—was due to the impending birthday celebration of the Marquis of Palatio, scheduled for the following day.

While arriving on the actual day to offer birthday felicitations would have been the conventional approach, Yutia opted to arrive a day in advance.

This decision stemmed from her desire to avoid the throng of individuals expected to attend Alon’s birthday festivities.

Preferring a private congratulation over a communal celebration, Yutia sought to honor him alone.

The significance of celebrating in solitude was entirely distinct from celebrating amongst a multitude, particularly for Yutia.

Moreover, shortly before her recent disappearance, Rine had once again damaged Yutia’s brooch. This incident had rendered her unable to observe—or rather, protect—Alon for a full two months. This extended period of incapacitation was yet another reason for her early, discreet arrival, without even alerting Alon.

Consequently, Yutia gained clandestine entry into the Marquisate and proceeded to open the door to the office where Alon was expected to be.

And within—

—just as she had surmised, both Alon and Penia were present.

“Ah—!”

Penia uttered a startled gasp the very instant she perceived Yutia’s presence.

Reacting to this exclamation, Yutia was on the verge of a slight frown—

—but swiftly replaced it with a practiced smile, recalling Alon’s watchful gaze.

“My, it has been an considerable time.”

“Ah, um—”

Penia’s pupils demonstrably quivered.

Yutia found this reaction peculiar but soon shifted her attention away.

After all, Penia was not the individual occupying her thoughts.

With a smile, Yutia turned her gaze towards Alon.

He met her look with a countenance utterly devoid of expression.

“Greetings, my Lord Marquis.”

Approaching him with natural ease, she offered a light salutation.

And Alon’s response—

—or rather, the complete lack thereof.

“……Pray tell, who might you be?”

“……What?”

Yutia’s smile faltered, forgotten. She fixed her gaze upon him, stunned.

Another gasp escaped Penia, and an palpable silence descended upon the office.

Yet, this silence was fleeting.

“You jest, Marquis. Such a jest is hardly amusing, do you comprehend?”

Yutia’s smile persisted, but her features betrayed a tremor of profound unease, quivering as if pleading with him to cease this charade.

However, rather than responding verbally, Alon rose from his seat.

“...?”

He then proceeded to walk behind Penia, who was currently seated.

It was then that Yutia observed—

Alon’s fingers were clenched fiercely around the top of Penia’s chair.

And in that exact instant, as the implication of his action dawned upon her—

“Just who… are you, fundamentally?”

Alon inquired once more, his tone now heavy with gravity.

“...What?”

Yutia’s spirit felt as though it had been completely fractured.

With an intensely sharp, splintering noise—

Kwa-jik.