Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 378 : A Birthday Without Memories (3)

“Brother’s memories have reverted to when he was a child.”

Magrina’s shocking announcement—perhaps a desperate ploy by Rine, who couldn’t be present—instantly quelled the murmuring crowd.

“What exactly do you mean?” Radan inquired, his expression turning grave.

Magrina let out a sigh before continuing, “It’s precisely as I’ve stated. His memories are gone. To be more precise… they’ve regressed to approximately thirteen years ago.”

Her declaration, delivered with the finality of a pronouncement, once again cast a hushed silence over the room.

The profound quiet was shattered when—

“Could it be that someone attacked Master?” Seolrang, who had previously shown surprise, now wore an unreadable, emotionless expression.

“Huh?”

“That he—”

“—was attacked?” Seolrang’s question seemed to ignite a spark.

At her single spoken line, the previously silent individuals began to emanate a terrifying aura—nay, magical power surged from them.

Crackle!

The very mana dispersing around them twisted the surrounding terrain, reshaping it in an instant.

“Who did this? Who dares lay a hand on Chief—”

“We shall find them and kill them.”

With a series of harsh, buzzing sounds, the nearby trees began to fall, creating a tremendous uproar.

The noise was so significant that even Alon, unaware of the unfolding situation, could faintly perceive it.

“Hmm—did two monsters fight or something?”

“What is that…?”

“When large monsters battle, one sometimes hears noises like that. However, there shouldn’t be any large monsters in this vicinity,” Penia explained as Alon tilted his head, finding her words puzzling while they attended to official matters.

“Wait, everyone, please calm down.”

“Calm? Is this the appropriate time for calmness?”

“I implore you, let us hear the full explanation before anger takes hold.” Magrina attempted to diffuse the charged atmosphere.

If left unchecked, those individuals would undoubtedly obliterate everything in their path and embark on a quest to hunt down whoever might have targeted Alon.

Magrina proceeded to explain, in a composed tone, the circumstances that led to the current situation.

Approximately ten minutes elapsed.

“So, in essence, the Marquis temporarily regressed thirteen years for the sake of magical advancement? And an unforeseen complication caused this state to persist longer than intended?”

“That is correct.”

“Hmm—so Master wasn’t actually attacked by anyone, then?”

“Correct.”

“Sigh, and here I was thinking—” Ryanga exhaled and continued, “So? Why are you informing us of this?”

“Naturally, there is a reason.”

“And what might that be?”

“Currently, the Marquis has not disclosed to the outside world that he has lost his memory.”

“If word gets out that he has lost his memory at this juncture, it would be detrimental in every respect,” Deus remarked.

Magrina nodded in agreement with Deus’s assessment.

“This is why I am informing all of you beforehand. Should the Marquis exhibit any peculiar behavior—”

“We are to feign ignorance and act as though we know nothing.”

“Precisely.”

At her confirmation, all those present nodded in accord.

“If we react unusually to such matters, it would undoubtedly arouse suspicion.”

“We shall be discreet.”

“I will too.”

“Very well, I shall do likewise.”

The tense atmosphere dissipated instantaneously. It was difficult to fathom that these very individuals had moments before been radiating enough mana to level the surroundings.

“So, is there nothing else to report?”

“No.”

“Then, I shall take my leave.”

“Me too!”

“Same here.”

“I must also depart. I still have preparations to make.”

One by one, they offered a light wave and departed.

Historia departed with a casual flick of her hand.

Magrina let out a small sigh as she observed their exits.

With that, the immediate and visible duties were, for the time being, concluded.

Magrina recollected the scene that had just unfolded.

Although she had bid them farewell, relieved that no major incident had occurred, each departing person had harbored the same expression in their eyes.

A look that suggested they were contemplating actions they could take at this opportune moment.

Magrina cleared her throat involuntarily.

Truth be told, as soon as Rine had conveyed the news to her earlier that day, she herself had undertaken a small “preparation.”

“I hope tomorrow arrives swiftly,” Magrina murmured before turning and vanishing into the forest, leaving the woods deserted.

***

Late into the night.

Alon, still awake, sat alone in his study, even Penia having retired, lost in deep contemplation.

His thoughts revolved around magic.

What course of action should he pursue?

Beyond the initial week spent adjusting to the abruptly altered world, Alon had dedicated the subsequent three weeks solely to contemplating magic.

More accurately, he had been pondering methods to eliminate the inherent vulnerabilities within the “artifacts” and “incantations” he employed.

Alon had consumed the regression potion, administered by Penia, to reach his current state, aiming to discover a means to eradicate these weaknesses.

However, with unfortunate results—

He had found no breakthroughs in the past three weeks.

In a way, this outcome was entirely natural.

The fundamental mechanism of a regression potion involves temporarily erasing memories, reverting the user to a childlike state, and then utilizing that nascent imagination to uncover novel pathways in the present.

A child’s imagination is, after all, far more boundless than an adult’s.

There were even Tower Masters who had witnessed positive results using this regression potion, indicating its efficacy to some degree.

Nevertheless, while this potion might assist mages—or even Tower Masters in reaching the eighth rank—it offered no solution for Alon.

Consider this.

What seasoned cultivators sought through the regression potion was the unfettered imagination of youth.

However—

Alon had never possessed a childish imagination during his time in this world.

He was, in essence, someone who had transmigrated into the game.

Consequently—

The regression potion offered no imagination for him to recover, as none existed within him to begin with.

All he had were memories, worn and faded with the passage of time.

The potion could not bestow upon him the imagination one might anticipate.

Still, a question surfaced in his mind — “Was my future self merely foolish, engaging in utterly pointless endeavors?”

But this thought was soon dismissed.

Regardless of his future self’s desperation, it was inconceivable that he wouldn't have been aware of this fundamental fact.

Therefore, Alon concluded that his future self had intentionally consumed the Regression Potion, despite this knowledge.

“Then the motive must have been… to shed the knowledge pertaining to the game.”

With this purpose in mind, Alon attempted to access his memories.

The recollections of the magic he had witnessed within the game, once so sharp before his full consciousness returned, now felt distant and hazy.

It was akin to perusing a book about Psychedelia rather than having experienced it directly.

This suggested that prior to ingesting the Regression Potion, Alon had seemingly made a deliberate effort to purge his knowledge of the game's magic.

As if anticipating a certain outcome.

Past Alon came to this realization approximately three weeks later.

Building on that understanding, he endeavored to develop his reasoning further.

Yet, even at this present moment, he had not achieved any significant breakthroughs.

He posed the question to himself for what felt like the tenth time, but naturally, no answer was forthcoming.

“Haa…”

The sole logical deduction Alon had managed to formulate over this period was this: his future self perceived the “knowledge from the game” as not only unnecessary but actively detrimental to overcoming his present deficiencies.

Feeling a heaviness in his eyelids, Alon rose and cast his gaze towards the nocturnal sky.

A stark contrast to the sky he had observed merely a month prior, not a single star was visible — only the solitary moon hung in the expanse.

Gazing at it blankly, Alon eventually turned towards his chamber to seek rest.

Even as he retraced his steps, his thoughts remained relentlessly active.

***

The subsequent morning.

Despite being kept awake until the break of dawn by lingering magical energies, Alon found himself stirring quite early, rubbing his weary eyes.

“Today is… my birthday, isn’t it?”

The instant the memory returned, his heart felt burdened.

He would be compelled to deceive everyone who intended to visit him today.

Penia had provided him with details about who was expected and who might potentially make an appearance.

Nevertheless, it was evident that mere explanations would not equip him for the art of deception — a skill he had never possessed in the first place.

Carrying an inexplicable weight, Alon pulled back the curtains that were habitually kept drawn.

Outside lay the familiar, tranquil village panorama, complete with the proudly standing statue of the Northern Warden—

“...?”

The statue was indeed present.

Yes, it remained where it always had been.

Precisely in its rightful location.

And yet, the reason Alon found himself staring at it with unseeing eyes was straightforward—

The statue had undergone a significant increase in its dimensions.

He blinked several times, scrutinizing it with renewed attention.

Its pose was unmistakably the same.

Then, he shifted his gaze towards the adjacent auction house.

He recalled the statue being approximately one and a half times the height of the auction hall when viewed from his window.

But now—

Irrespective of how many times he compared it to the structure, the conclusion was undeniable — the statue had genuinely grown.

An hour later.

“Good morning, Marquis.”

“Ah, Deus.”

Alon regarded Deus, and behind the man’s impassive facade, he couldn’t help but reflect—

In stark contrast to the unappealing visage he recalled from the game, Deus Maccalian was remarkably handsome.

Should he venture out in such a manner, individuals of all ages and genders would undoubtedly turn to admire him.

However, Alon’s astonishment was fleeting.

“So, how do you find the gift?”

“Gift?”

“Indeed — the statue, my lord.”

“Ah…”

At this revelation, understanding dawned upon him.

The sudden, colossal growth of the statue was attributed to Deus.

Before he could even ponder the means by which such a monumental sculpture could be altered overnight without a trace of sound, Deus continued—

“Yes, given your previous fondness for it, I commissioned a larger iteration this time!”

The notion that his future self had supposedly cherished that rather peculiar statue of the Northern Warden left Alon even more astounded.

Naturally, he had to mask his reaction.

“...Thank you.”

He responded with composed detachment, feigning ignorance of the claim, “I fancied that?”

“Shall I arrange for two more additional pieces next time?”

“...Two more of those?”

“Precisely! You were quite fond of it, after all!”

Deus declared with an earnest enthusiasm, radiating pride.

Feeling thoroughly bewildered, Alon nonetheless replied,

“Certainly… that sounds agreeable. I do indeed find it pleasing.”

And with that exchange—

“Just as I expected! Your affection for statues is undeniable, my lord! I shall commence work on them immediately!”

Observing Deus depart with an inexplicably proud demeanor, Alon began to experience a burgeoning unease regarding the character his future self had seemingly become.

At that precise moment—

“Master! Behold this!”

“What is it?”

“A present!”

This time, it was Seolrang who presented a gift.

“The gift you desired, Master!”

—A marriage registration form.

Alon’s mind went utterly blank.