Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 551: Black Flesh (9)

“Evan—!”

The shout burst from Alon’s mouth before he even realized it.

Yet despite hearing Alon call for him, Evan shot forward—

Shwaaaak-!

—splitting apart the Black Flesh creatures with astonishing force as he continued advancing.

As though he could not hear Alon’s voice at all, he kept moving only forward.

“Evan—!!”

Alon called out to him once more.

But Evan still did not look back.

As though he had never intended to return here from the very beginning.

Watching him, Alon moved.

Of course, rationally speaking, he knew there was nothing he could do.

That even if he left this place, there was nothing Alon himself could accomplish.

And yet—

His body still moved instinctively toward the outside of the erosion phenomenon—

“!”

—but could not leave.

Because—

‘......A wall?!’

—there was now a wall standing at the entrance of the erosion phenomenon, despite the fact that it definitely had not existed just moments ago.

‘Penia did this—?’

The thought surfaced briefly.

But Alon soon shook his head.

It was not difficult to realize it was not Penia.

She was already suffering mana exhaustion just from maintaining this erosion space’s coordinates.

There was no way she had the strength to erect a transparent barrier like this.

Which meant the only possibility left—

‘......Evan!’

Alon looked toward Evan.

He was still charging forward.

Cutting apart the blackened flesh masses.

Smashing away the grotesque lifeforms lunging at him from the sides.

Sweeping aside the black hands bursting endlessly from Black Flesh Al-Akulakka’s body.

And finally, after reaching Al-Akulakka itself—

Evan swung his sword downward.

Shwaaaak-!

Along with that sound, the erosion field that had seemed as though it would never move began closing.

Far too quickly.

Closing in an instant.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■-!!!!

At the same time, Evan, who had severed Al-Akulakka’s head, blocked the delayed strike of Al-Akulakka’s hand and was blown backward—

Returning once more near the erosion field.

“Evan!! It’s not too late yet! Come back!”

Alon shouted while preparing to activate Reverse Heavens without hesitation.

Of course, the moment he used Reverse Heavens, his odds of survival would plummet drastically.

If fortunate, he might survive with permanent brain damage.

If not—

Death would be inevitable.

And yet despite knowing that, Alon still activated Reverse Heavens.

Because he could not simply leave behind someone trying to sacrifice himself for his sake.

He could not just abandon Evan like this.

But at that moment, Alon froze.

Because he saw it.

Evan silently raising a hand—

Stopping Alon from activating his spell.

“......”

“......”

Evan’s gaze turned toward Alon.

And Alon fixed his gaze upon Evan as well.

The two looked at one another.

The erosion field was closing rapidly.

So quickly that it barely even allowed time for a farewell.

So quickly that even a simple goodbye felt like a luxury.

And yet despite that—

Alon could not open his mouth.

Instead, he shut it tightly.

And waited.

For Evan’s words.

To hear his final words.

“......”

Many emotions crossed Evan’s face.

But despite standing before those Black Flesh creatures—

There was not a trace of fear.

What showed instead—

Was conflict.

He was agonizing over what he should say.

And finally, at the very last moment before the erosion field completely closed—

Evan—

“I, I’ll be quitting now.”

—said that.

As though it were nothing at all.

Grinning broadly.

Far too lightly.

The kind of farewell only he could possibly say.

And with him as the end—

Crack-!

—the erosion field completely closed.

“......Ha.”

Inside the space of the distortion field, where nothing could be seen anymore.

Yet unlike Alon’s hollow laugh, the erosion field rapidly began stabilizing once more before transforming into something resembling the space of a massive strange text phenomenon.

“......I’m sorry.”

Penia’s voice rang out.

Her condition looked terrible.

Her lips had turned blue from mana exhaustion, and her body trembled violently.

And yet despite that, her eyes remained stained with guilt.

“......No. You did your best.”

Looking at her, Alon slowly shook his head.

This was not Penia’s fault.

She had done everything she could.

Breaking through Al-Akulakka’s gate.

Maintaining the erosion field this long.

Both were practically miracles already.

She had done her best.

And Alon, too, had done everything he could.

“......Penia.”

“Yes......”

“Is it...... is it possible to return to the past of that timeline again?”

Alon asked quietly.

Penia could not answer.

She merely repeated the motion of pressing and releasing her lips over and over again.

And watching her, Alon could easily guess the answer that would come from her mouth.

At the same time—

He could also understand exactly how much pressure his question—

The faint hope hidden within it—

Had placed upon her.

“Forget it. You don’t need to answer.”

“......No. I’m the one who should apologize.”

Penia responded quietly.

Watching her—

“......I told you already.”

—Alon slowly covered his face with one hand.

Strangely enough, in complete contrast to his emotions, his face looked far too calm.

As though he felt nothing at all.

And feeling yet another sense of wrongness at that—

A nameless anger.

“......This isn’t your fault.”

Alon muttered blankly.

####

A worthless life.

Strangely enough, that was how the old mercenary Evan evaluated his own life.

And he also believed that assessment was not entirely wrong.

Of course, his life had been turbulent.

He had originally been a noble of Ashtalon, but his family had been falsely implicated in a rebellion they had barely even participated in, resulting in the extermination of his entire household.

Only Evan survived.

And from a very young age, he had entered the mercenary world in order to live.

After struggling endlessly in that world since childhood, Evan eventually managed to establish himself reasonably well.

The name Evan was fairly well known among mercenaries.

His credibility was higher than most mercenaries.

And even for a mercenary, his reputation was high enough that he earned quite a lot.

And yet despite all that, Evan still evaluated himself that way.

The reason was simple.

A dream.

Evan had a dream.

To become—

A “strong man” capable of forcing even Master Knights to kneel.

Someone all the Allied Kingdoms would admire.

Of course, it was a dream perfectly suited for mockery.

Mercenaries were people closer to reality than ideals.

To those who only cared about making money, Evan’s dream was nothing more than a joke.

Naturally, Evan understood that as well, so he merely laughed along casually at the mercenaries’ reactions.

But even so, deep down—

Evan continued chasing that dream.

Believing that someday he would become stronger than he was now.

Believing he would become someone capable of making even Master Knights kneel.

Swearing that he would transform his worthless life into a brilliant one.

And so he endlessly chased that ideal.

He truly believed he could become it.

He deeply believed the tragic life he had been given would one day become merely a single line in the grand story built around him.

So he worked hard.

He never skipped training morning or night.

Whenever he was not on missions, he practically lived inside training halls.

And even during missions, whether in labyrinths or elsewhere, he continued training.

Again.

And again.

And again.

He struggled endlessly.

And eventually realized it.

That he—

Was ordinary.

“......”

When had it been?

At some point, he had seen a knight from Caliban.

A knight younger than himself.

Yet one who had already reached a level of Expert far beyond Evan.

Evan possessed talent.

But what he had not understood—

Was the gap between talents.

Even talent itself had differences.

And unfortunately, Evan’s talent was pitifully weak for chasing his ideals.

Weak enough that he had been utterly crushed by a single young knight from Caliban.

At that moment, Evan abandoned his dream.

He stopped training every morning and night.

Whenever he was not on missions, he went to taverns instead of training halls.

And during missions, he spent every possible moment fooling around as long as it did not interfere with the job.

His companions laughed loudly while saying he had finally become a real mercenary.

Evan laughed alongside them.

Facing his worthless life.

And simply allowing himself to drift wherever it carried him.

And then—

‘Become my escort knight.’

—he met him.

Alon Palatio.

“......”

Evan remembered his first meeting with Alon.

It had been an utterly absurd meeting.

And yet strangely fascinating at the same time.

There had definitely been countless mercenaries inside that tavern that day.

Many stronger than Evan himself.

And yet despite that—

Alon had pointed directly at him.

Why had that been?

At the time, Evan never asked.

The amount of money Alon offered made such questions completely meaningless.

Evan became his escort knight.

And from that moment onward, his connection with Alon began.

Alon had always possessed many strange qualities.

He seemed like a noble, yet not like one at all.

Despite being the youngest son of a shadow family overflowing with politics and betrayal, his personality was unlike that of ordinary nobles.

He understood courtesy, yet lacked arrogance toward commoners.

He possessed knowledge, yet was not prideful.

He possessed greed, yet never abandoned his obligations.

Too innocent to be called a noble.

Too intelligent to be called an ordinary citizen.

Too noble to be called lowborn.

That was what felt so strange about him.

The things Alon ordered him to do were the same.

As a child of a shadow family, he always moved to save someone.

There was unmistakable goodwill within those commands.

And that never changed afterward either.

Things unrelated to him.

And yet he still moved to stop them.

Whenever something happened, he repeatedly walked straight into life-and-death situations.

And yet he always walked ahead of everyone else.

Evan could not understand him.

The Alon he had seen hated fighting more than anyone.

And yet whenever something happened, he was always the one walking in front.

Because there were no personal interests attached to those forward steps.

Because he simply kept walking forward.

Because he never avoided anything.

Really—

Like a stubborn fool, silently piling up burdens he never needed to carry.

At some point, Evan began admiring him.

That was why he continued striving endlessly.

To become useful to him.

To walk beside him.

He simply kept moving forward silently.

Even though he despaired because he could never truly reach him.

Even so, he kept advancing.

And the culmination of all that—

Was this very place.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■-!!!!!!!!!!

Evan quietly looked around.

What he saw were endless Black Flesh creatures—

And Al-Akulakka screaming madly as though furious that Alon had escaped moments ago.

“......”

Even beyond the horizon, the Black Flesh continued endlessly.

Without end.

Forever.

Looking at it, Evan realized something.

This place was a period.

The final punctuation mark of the human named “Evan.”

The ending of the story he carried.

“Hah—”

And at that ending, Evan smiled.

It was not emptiness.

Nor helplessness.

He was genuinely smiling.

His life had always been worthless anyway.

He would have simply lived and died as an ordinary mercenary born with mediocre talent and the minor distinction of being a fallen noble.

But now?

“......The life of a hero who saved the god destined to save the world.”

Muttering that, Evan grinned broadly.

Even just saying it aloud felt strangely satisfying.

“Man, I really did receive a lot.”

Evan muttered quietly.

Thinking about it now, had he not even regained the dream he had long forgotten?

That thought amused him greatly.

And so Evan smiled while gripping his sword.

At the same time, transparent barriers rose along both his sides and behind him.

A newly reached derivation.

Still incomplete.

But to Evan, it felt good enough.

Because all he needed to do—

Was cut down whatever came from the front.

“Now then.”

Within the domain of No Retreat Before Battle, the man raised his sword.

Fwoosh—

What ignited along the blade was the bluest sword light of all.

And so Evan—

No—

The noble of Shtalion.

Palaon Evan.

“Come.”

“Here lies the period.”

—smiled willingly as he reached out toward the ending.