Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 9
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
Kalia, the firstborn of the Zenonia house, had returned to the family estate and made her way toward the Count’s personal study. As she walked, her mind drifted back to a man she had been unable to stop thinking about.
That man was Alon Palatio, the individual who had recently purged his own siblings to seize the title of heir within the Palatio family.
“…‘Famous,’ indeed.”
Kalia thought back to the way he had looked at her. His gaze had been unreadable, resembling a void deeper than the frozen northern wastes, completely detached from the world. Every time that memory surfaced, a cold shiver ran down her skin.
Looking into those eyes, Kalia had reached a realization: he was cut from the same cloth as her.
Under normal circumstances, Kalia would have dismissed him the moment he declined her offer of a partnership.
In her world, a rejection of an alliance meant they could never be friends, effectively labeling him as a future enemy.
Yet, a specific remark he made kept her curiosity burning.
“…He called me ‘Famous.’”
The Zenonia name was undoubtedly well-known. Even without direct political involvement, the sheer wealth and military might of the Zenonia family were sufficient to destabilize the kingdom's entire power structure.
However, that reputation was tied to the Count of Zenonia himself—not the family as a whole, and certainly not to Kalia personally.
Yet Alon had been very specific.
He had addressed her with such certainty.
Despite the fact that most of the nobility had never even seen her face—given she had only appeared at two balls—he had labeled her as famous.
He wasn't talking about the Count; he was talking about her.
In reality, Alon had simply let the word slip, thinking of her future reputation as a villainess from the original story’s timeline.
But for Kalia, those words carried a heavy weight.
“How very interesting.”
Kalia shifted her attention to the Count, who was seated at his desk within the study.
The Count was silently occupied with various documents.
His head remained lowered, ignoring her presence entirely as he focused on his paperwork.
Click, click—
As Kalia approached, the Count’s gaze shifted upward to meet hers.
A pair of crimson eyes, identical to her own, stared back.
Though he remained speechless, the Count appeared to be in peak physical health and full of life.
—Snap!
That vitality lasted only until Kalia flicked her fingers.
The moment the sound echoed, the spark of intelligence vanished from the Count’s eyes.
The sharp focus he held moments ago was replaced by the vacant stare of a simpleton. His jaw went slack, and a thin trail of saliva began to leak from the corner of his mouth.
It was a state that was far from natural.
Kalia whispered as she looked down at the shell of a man.
“How could he have known? It was a secret no one should have found out.”
Kalia’s face was twisted with intrigue. She couldn't stop thinking about Alon, who spoke as if he were privy to the truth she had hidden ever since she reduced her father to this pathetic state.
“Was it just a lucky guess?”
Wrestling with these suspicions, Kalia exited the study, leaving behind the stage where she had performed her charade for the last five years.
“K-Kalia, my lady!”
“What is the meaning of this?”
“A-A dead body... there is a corpse in your chambers!!”
Startled by the servant's panic, Kalia hurried toward her private rooms.
And there—
“Hah…”
She found him.
The spy she had sent to track Alon two weeks prior was now a lifeless heap. His neck had been snapped and twisted twice over, his eyes bulging as if he had seen a nightmare before he died.
“The seal remained intact, so it seems he died without leaking any information.”
One of her knights provided the report.
Kalia sighed as she processed the scene.
Her doubts were rapidly turning into absolute certainty.
“…It appears he uncovered a major vulnerability of mine the moment we met.”
She whispered, a faint smile playing on her lips.
***
Evan scowled as he observed the golems, their bodies pulsing with a sinister red glow in the dark of night.
Having survived as a mercenary for fifteen years, his eyes instinctively searched for structural weaknesses, yet he couldn't suppress a rising sense of dread.
He trusted his own blade, but that experience also taught him to fear the unknown.
He knew all too well how lethal an unfamiliar threat could be.
Furthermore, he wasn't alone; he had a master to defend.
Fighting a horde of mysterious enemies with unknown capabilities was a nightmare scenario.
To make matters worse, there were easily more than twenty of them. Just as Evan was weighing his options—
“I will take care of this.”
“Pardon…?”
Evan blinked in surprise as Alon walked past him toward the front line.
Alon’s face was as mask-like and cold as it had been when they first entered the labyrinth.
Evan found himself baffled by his master once again.
He couldn't fathom how Alon could remain so composed in the face of such danger.
From Evan’s perspective, they were in the middle of a life-or-death crisis.
Over twenty humanoid golems stood before them, each likely possessing immense strength and durability.
Yet, Alon stepped forward with total confidence.
To be blunt, Evan didn't think Alon stood a chance against such a force.
He recognized that Alon was gifted and had a knack for magic.
Reaching the 2nd Rank of Cultivation through self-study alone was no small feat.
However, while that was impressive for a Young Master of his age, it wasn't enough for this.
Even a single golem would typically be a challenge for a 2nd Rank magician to dismantle.
Thud!
As if sensing his thoughts, the golems ended their observation and surged forward, charging toward Alon.
Then—
“I enact the Constraint.”
Alon’s voice rang out like a divine decree.
***
As the incantation left Alon’s lips, the world seemed to grind to a halt.
Color drained from his surroundings, leaving everything in shades of grey. The charging golems slowed down until they looked like frozen images in a frame.
Then—
[Fragment of Niacula’s grand legacy, declare the two Constraints you wish to bind yourself with.]
A massive, echoing voice vibrated through his very soul.
It was a voice that held no single identity—simultaneously young, old, male, and female.
Hearing it caused a bead of cold sweat to roll down Alon’s temple.
The "Constraint" artifact Alon had found in the Whispering Labyrinth functioned exactly as its name implied: it demanded a sacrifice of freedom or ability in exchange for power.
In the game, this would have triggered a menu of choices.
A simple interface would have allowed him to select his debuffs and buffs.
But this was no longer a game. Instead of a screen, he was faced with a voice.
It was a voice so powerful it made his Dantian tremble and his heart hammer against his ribs, filling him with an instinctive terror.
Taking a shaky breath, Alon steadied himself and spoke his chosen limitations.
“First.”
[State your binding.]
“Every use of magic shall require the flawless execution of Babylonian hand signs.”
[And what is the price you seek?]
“A power capable of slightly distorting the fundamental laws of this world.”
[It is granted.]
“And the second.”
[State your binding.]
“Every use of magic shall require the partial recitation of the Great Babylonian incantations.”
[And what is the price you seek?]
“The same as the first.”
[…]
The voice fell into a heavy silence following his demand.
In the slowed reality, a golem’s foot hung suspended in mid-air before slowly meeting the earth.
Alon worried for a second that he had asked for too much.
[I accept.]
The divine voice boomed with approval, shattering his anxiety.
[To the one who still holds the knowledge of the mudras and secrets of a long-forgotten god, I grant my thanks for carrying the will forward.]
The voice whispered this final message to him.
“…?”
Alon was internally confused by this.
Though his outward expression remained a mask of indifference, his mind was racing with questions.
He actually had no idea what the voice was talking about.
His reason for picking Babylonian signs and chants was purely practical.
In the game mechanics, these two specific constraints offered the highest possible multiplier for magic damage.
He had used this build so many times in his past life that the movements and words were etched into his muscle memory.
He wasn't a walking encyclopedia, so he didn't know every single sign from the game, but he wasn't worried.
He knew exactly where to find the records for the rest of the Babylonian arts.
So, while the voice’s comment was strange, Alon dismissed it for the moment.
[I shall observe your path. Inheritor of the will.]
The monochrome world began to bleed back into color as time resumed its natural flow.
Alon raised his hand to test his new power against the approaching machines.
***
Simultaneously, Qi-like mana began to surge from Alon’s heart, flowing through his Meridians and pooling at his fingertips.
The amount of mana was admittedly pathetic.
Even using every drop of energy he possessed, the orb of lightning he was conjuring looked weak. Instead of the brilliant sphere described in the lore, it was a flickering, dim spark.
But Alon wasn't discouraged.
He knew this was simply the limit of the body he now inhabited—the weak third son of the Palatio house.
However—
“Refraction.”
As he spoke the first word of the chant,
“Rebound.”
The tiny spark began to warp into jagged, chaotic bolts.
“Blue Light.”
With a sharp hiss, the energy turned a vibrant, piercing blue. The single spark split into thousands of frantic lines of electricity, creating a blinding, non-linear web of power.
It was a light so frigid and intense it felt painful to witness.
At that moment, Alon’s fingers moved into a specific hand sign.
His thumb pressed against his middle finger.
It looked like he was preparing to flick something.
But then he rotated his wrist, shifting the gesture into a sacred dharma wheel position.
He locked eyes with the lead golem and finished the incantation.
“Linear Diffraction.”
As the blue radiance swallowed the shadows—
Snap!
He clicked his fingers, releasing the stored energy.
—Fwoosh!
The expected explosion never came. There was only a ghostly whistling sound.
For a heartbeat, the golems stood frozen in the ravine, illuminated by the fading blue flash as if caught in a moment of stopped time.
Then—
Crack—Crackle!
The entire group of golems disintegrated simultaneously, turning into nothing but piles of rubble.
Evan, who had been charging forward to save Alon, stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw dropped in pure shock.
“What… what was that?”
He whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief.