Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 283 : Treatment (2)
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
Stalian V gazed at the object held in his hand, his features twisted in bewilderment.
It was a blue proselytizing missive.
Calling it a formal invitation to convert was almost a stretch.
His devotion belonged to Sironia, the Lunar Goddess, rather than Kalannon, the one who receives the lightning.
Unlike the pressure he felt from Rosario, this blue document carried no political weight for Stalian V.
Nevertheless, a shadow of anxiety crossed his face, and the reason was the sect following Kalannon.
At the forefront was Saintess Silli, who was aggressively recruiting followers and broadening the reach of the Kalannon faith.
She happened to be the sole sibling of Deus Macallian, known as the First Sword of Caliban.
Deus Macallian was notoriously devoted to his sister.
To put it bluntly—he was the ultimate siscon.
That fact alone was enough to make Stalian V’s head throb with pain.
If he handled this letter poorly and provoked Deus Macallian—a man who functioned like a strategic bomber and was already nearly impossible for Caliban to restrain—the consequences would be dire.
That was a disaster he could not allow to happen and refused to even contemplate.
Yet, the possibility had to be weighed.
He was painfully aware that Deus Macallian’s recklessness far exceeded public perception.
In a previous incident, the man had appeared in person, threatening decapitation simply because someone had made a passing comment about his son.
What would happen if this religious letter was disregarded?
If Deus Macallian lost his temper and launched an assault...?
Perhaps they could muster all their defenses to manage the situation.
In such a case, since Deus would be the aggressor, Ashtalon could play the political card of the victim.
However, the true issue remained...
The sheer volume of resources required just to halt Deus would be staggering.
Furthermore, finding powerful enough allies to help contain him on short notice was a near impossibility.
In essence, should Deus Macallian take action, Stalian V would suffer a loss regardless of the final result.
“Haa—”
Beyond that, the complications were numerous.
The group of mages assembled by the Kalannon saintess would be a massive burden if they turned hostile.
But the primary reason Kalannon could not be brushed aside was...
The association between Marquis Palatio and the Kalannon faith.
Rumors regarding the link between the Marquis and Kalannon were rampant.
Some whispered that the Marquis was Kalannon in the flesh.
Others argued he was merely the deity's apostle.
The literal truth was irrelevant.
To Stalian V, the only thing that mattered was that the Marquis was tied to Kalannon.
A single command from the Marquis...
Could potentially send those volatile "strategic bombers" to level Ashtalon to the ground.
Furthermore...
“Your Majesty, my patience has its limits.”
“......”
“I trust such unfortunate events will not repeat themselves.”
The girl’s voice remained burned into his mind.
It was so clear it felt as though she were whispering directly into his ear.
Her face was hauntingly beautiful.
Yet, the chilling dread that had forced him to hold his breath was something he could never forget.
Because of this, Stalian V sat in silence, staring at the paper for a long time.
“Whew—”
He exhaled a brief sigh, lamenting his current predicament.
Finally, forcing his stiffened fingers to move, he opened the letter.
####
“Oh.”
As they approached the Eastern Kingdom, Alon let out a soft breath of surprise.
The distant horizon revealed a landscape unlike any kingdom he had visited before.
The oriental architecture radiated an immediate sense of mystery.
The village scenery, looking as if it were plucked from a martial arts novel or a fantasy game, was truly stunning.
“Wow... it looks just like a painting.”
“It's incredible.”
Evan and Penia added their own voices of wonder.
[Hmph, it’s decent enough,]
Even Basiliora, despite her grumbling tone, was clearly captivated by the sight.
Eventually, the party crossed into the Eastern Kingdom.
Their entry was smooth and without trouble.
Indeed—until the moment they arrived, everything was fine.
Until they stepped out.
Alon looked forward.
The second they exited the carriage,
They were greeted by a hostile reception—spears were leveled at them as if their arrival had been anticipated.
“Marquis, was the plan for us to start in a mess like this?”
Evan asked with a strained voice, his muscles tensing for a fight.
Alon shook his head, though he felt a sense of confusion.
He hadn't anticipated a red-carpet welcome.
While he had fought alongside the beastkin seven centuries ago to defeat Baarma, that was ancient history.
Aside from the long-lived spirit beasts, few would recall those deeds.
Even so...
Alon observed the soldiers.
Their gazes were filled with intense enmity, as if they were looking at a hated nemesis.
As his confusion deepened—
“Give yourselves up.”
A wolf beastkin emerged from the ranks of spearmen.
His armor was notably more decorative than those around him.
However, the malice on his face was identical to his subordinates.
“...I would prefer to talk this through, if we can.”
Alon suggested after a moment of reflection.
“Hmph! What conversation could I possibly have with a wretched human who stirred up a revolt?!”
The wolf beastkin unsheathed his blade and pressed the edge against Alon’s throat.
The tension spiked instantly from that single accusation.
Just as things were about to spiral—
“Haa—”
A sigh echoed from his side.
It was quiet, yet dripping with annoyance.
Then—
“You have five seconds.”
Radan’s voice cut through the air, drawing every eye to him.
The playful grin he usually wore had vanished completely.
The light in his eyes was gone, replaced by a freezing indifference.
His mischievous aura had transformed into a heavy, suffocating pressure.
Radan took a step forward.
“Remove that blade. Immediately.”
It was a frigid warning directed at the soldier threatening Alon.
The soldier’s face contorted.
“Five.”
Radan started the countdown, completely unmoved.
“Four.”
In that moment, Alon remembered a past event—
The time Radan had effortlessly decapitated a ship's captain.
“Three.”
Because of that—
“It’s fine, Radan.”
Alon moved to restrain him.
“Brother. But these people...!”
Radan’s expression twisted in frustration.
In truth, Alon wasn't pleased either.
He had traveled to the East based solely on Hazad’s recommendation, only to be met with such hostility.
However, if Radan caused a scene now, it would only complicate matters and delay their mission further.
That was why he stepped in.
“I’m truly alright.”
“…As you wish.”
Radan ground his teeth in annoyance but retreated.
The beastkin who held the sword to Alon appeared even more irritated now.
Seeing this, Alon spoke calmly.
“I am Marquis Palatio, arriving with an introduction from Hazad, the Sage-God of the Lizardmen. If you wouldn't mind, could you explain the reason for this hostility?”
It was a civil request.
Perhaps because of his tone...
The beastkin pulled back his sword and returned it to its scabbard.
Alon felt a wave of relief, thinking they could finally communicate.
“Tie them up.”
“…???”
The following command left Alon’s mind blank.
To make a long story short, Alon and his group were bound by the soldiers and hauled away.
“Marquis, aren’t we in a lot of trouble?”
Evan whispered with concern.
His worry was justified.
The party had been restrained so thoroughly they were practically helpless.
It was a degrading situation, but Alon allowed it for two reasons.
The first was his mission—to find more data on the Words of Sin or Sin itself.
He couldn't risk making the beastkin his enemies.
Had he visited the Eastern Kingdom during his time in Psychedelia, he might have known better.
But this area had been DLC content he never played.
Furthermore, Hazad had provided only the most superficial details.
Essentially—
To succeed here, he needed to gather intelligence first.
That intelligence had to come from the local beastkin.
The second reason was sheer confidence.
Alon was capable of shattering these bonds at a moment's notice.
And he wasn't the only one.
While Evan might struggle, Penia and Radan had already signaled through eye contact that they could free themselves whenever they chose.
They were never in any actual peril.
With that in mind, Alon stayed observant as they were marched along.
Upon entering a grand structure, he encountered the source of the orders.
“So these are the ones? The humans from the outside world.”
A man in extravagant attire stood there, his face radiating narcissism.
“…I am Marquis Palatio, here via an introduction from Hazad, the Sage-God of the Lizardmen. Might I ask for an explanation regarding our treatment?”
Alon repeated his introduction.
The man responded with an open sneer.
“How regrettable. That won’t be happening.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you are humans.”
“It seems humans have caused trouble here, but we are uninvolved.”
“They all claim that. Every single pest we’ve detained has said the same.”
Alon could see it plainly.
The profound loathing in the man’s eyes and the cruel smirk on his lips.
Then—
“Well, whether you’re actually linked to them or not… we’ll see once you’re dead.”
At the man’s command, the surrounding soldiers began to level their spears at the group.
Seeing this, Alon came to a realization.
He didn't know what crisis had struck the Eastern Kingdom, but...
Contrary to Hazad’s claims, there was no opportunity for diplomacy here.
Recognizing the dead end, he began to prepare his mana for release.
Radan and Penia followed suit.
Just as they were about to strike—
“What is the meaning of this?”
A woman’s voice drifted from the doorway, which had been shut tight until that moment.
Her tone was refined and graceful, carrying an air like the fragrance of lilies.
Yet, there was a strange familiarity to it.
The moment Alon heard it, he snapped his head toward the sound.
There she stood.
A woman with snow-white hair and large wolf ears as delicate as snowflakes.
Her attire was simple.
However, the exquisite blade at her hip was impossible to miss.
Still—
“Gasp...!”
Her mere presence caused the room to erupt in a hushed frenzy.
Every beastkin present lowered their weapons and bowed low.
It was a display of absolute reverence.
It didn't stop there.
“Greetings to the Great Race…!”
Even the arrogant man who had just been mocking Alon widened his eyes and bowed his head in a hurry.
“What is happening here?”
The woman asked once more, her voice steady and aloof.
“We were preparing to execute the associates of those wretched traitors.”
The man reported, bending even lower.
The woman, possessing a somewhat distant look compared to the others, walked slowly toward the group.
Then—
“…?”
The instant her eyes met Alon’s—
“!”
She stopped dead in her tracks.
She was frozen, like a statue.
And then—
“Ah—”
Alon finally understood.
Why her voice had seemed so familiar.
And why her very presence felt so recognizable.
Simultaneously, a question formed.
According to his knowledge, she shouldn't have been in the East—she was supposed to be on the main continent.
But there was no mistake.
The woman standing there was someone he knew well.
“Ria…?”
He spoke her name.
“…Divine One?”
Her previously still tail gave a tiny, involuntary flick.
And then—
“…Huh?”
The beastkin who had been laughing at Alon only moments before realized something.
Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.