Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
Alon and his companions traveled toward Rangban's secret location, with Alon learning more about the Eastern Kingdom's rebellion led by General Cheonga and Prince Birang's involvement. Meanwhile, Birang, plotting to usurp his father, anticipated his ascension to the throne while dismissing the king's guests as a minor inconvenience. Alon then descended alone into a mysterious underground chamber, placing a magatama into a slot, which caused glowing lotuses to converge and form an incomprehensible, human-like figure that addressed him as "Star-Eater."
Alon gazed at the entity standing before him.
The figure lacked a defined shape.
He could not discern if it was male or female.
He couldn't even tell if he was facing an old man or a young child.
To Alon's perception, the being manifested as nothing more than static noise.
The moment that thought crossed his mind—
[Hmm—?]
A skeptical voice vibrated from the entity.
When Alon lifted his eyes from the ground—
[Intriguing.]
The shifting noise observed Alon and voiced its curiosity.
“……What are you implying by that?”
Alon pressed for an answer, but the static remained silent.
[You truly are ignorant of everything.]
“……Excuse me?”
[You possess no knowledge, yet you have transformed into a devourer of stars by triggering a resistance where none was meant to exist.]
It spoke in riddles that defied comprehension.
“What are you talking about?”
[Explaining would be futile. Furthermore, a proper explanation would take far too long—your physical vessel would crumble before I finished.]
“What on earth do you—”
Just as Alon’s features began to twist in frustration at the cryptic dialogue—
“......Huh?”
A damp sensation touched his skin, and he instinctively reached up.
“!”
He realized his nose was bleeding.
The onset had been instantaneous.
Noticing the crimson droplets, he moved to look back up.
[Keep your eyes down—avoiding my gaze is the only way we can maintain this connection for any length of time.]
Heeding the creature's warning, he quickly dropped his chin.
Only then did Alon grasp the source of the subtle wrongness he had felt upon seeing the noise.
His pulse was skyrocketing.
As he struggled to regulate his thundering heart, the static continued.
[What a pity. Had you arrived with a greater level of awareness, there is much I could have shared. However, because a certain individual is warping destiny and blocking your path, it is impossible.]
“Huff, huff~!”
Alon was unable to find words.
The violent pounding in his chest made even his throat vibrate.
Then, just as blood began to well up in his eyes—
Tap.
A limb that seemed to belong to the noise rested on Alon’s shoulder.
And then—
“......Huh?”
The frantic rhythm of his heart began to settle into a steady beat.
He looked down, stunned by the sudden stabilization of his own body.
[Do not raise your head. To do so would only burn through our remaining time. Simply listen.]
Alon gave a silent nod of understanding.
[Once I vanish, take the magatama and find the Eastern Observer. She will instruct you on the methods of communication.]
“The Eastern Observer—”
[We shall resume our talk there.]
“Can I ask just a single question before you go?”
[............Perhaps a brief one. But be warned—even with my intervention, your body can only hold out for another three minutes.]
Alon voiced his query without hesitation.
“Are you aware of the Sins?”
[Are you speaking of the dark entities?]
Alon prepared to explain the details but checked himself.
Time was a luxury he didn't have.
He had to simplify his question—
“Do the Sins manifest even in the absence of the Apostles of Sin?”
When he asked the question in its most direct form, the noise countered with its own inquiry.
[Are you familiar with the concept of ‘inevitability’?]
“I am.”
[That is the nature of those black things. The presence or absence of apostles is irrelevant. Their arrival in this realm is certain. It is an event that nothing can alter—]
The noise hesitated for a second.
[It is the inevitability that we brought into existence.]
“!”
Alon’s eyes snapped wide as he stared toward the presence.
Yet, its form remained obscured.
It was still nothing but flickering static.
[Time is nearly exhausted. Do you have one last inquiry?]
Despite the looming end, the noise’s tone remained tranquil.
In contrast, Alon’s thoughts were in total disarray.
In that fleeting moment—
His mind was ensnared by a single word the creature had used.
What should his final question be?
Should he verify if it was truly the creator of those dark beings?
Should he demand to know its true identity?
Or perhaps, the reason behind its actions?
A thousand questions flooded his mind.
But through the mental storm, Alon reached a conclusion.
“Why am I the only one capable of utilizing the incantations?”
He moved past the mystery of the dark entities.
Since he now knew for certain that the Sins would appear regardless, further details were secondary.
Regardless of the cause, Alon was committed to stopping them.
Rather than chasing the origins of the Sins, he sought a different answer.
One that might grant him the strength to oppose them.
[You—]
The noise grew quiet for a moment following Alon’s question.
[You remain unaware of the very shackles you placed upon yourself under that 'eye.']
And with those words—
[Oh child of the black eye, ■■.]
It whispered its final message.
Following the encounter with the noise—
“Sir!?”
“Marquis, are you unharmed?!”
The moment he emerged, Radan and Evan sprinted toward him, their faces etched with concern.
Alon signaled them to relax with a wave of his hand.
“I’m fine.”
“......What transpired in there?”
Penia asked, stepping forward.
Alon let out a long breath before answering.
“Let’s discuss it during the journey. I need a moment to process everything.”
Though his comrades were burning with curiosity, they followed his lead and remained silent.
Thus, the trek back began—
Unlike the high-tension march toward the site, the return journey was hushed.
Alon silently sifted through the information he had gathered.
Ultimately, he had obtained the answer he sought.
His primary motivation for traveling East was to confirm if the Sins would manifest even after the Apostles were slain.
He had received his confirmation.
Yet, Alon remained uneasy because of a new mystery.
The noise had been explicit.
They were the architects of the Sins.
And yet, that same being had acted with benevolence toward Alon, who was hell-bent on destroying those very Sins.
It was a blatant contradiction.
Why would the creator of the world-destroying Sins—
Show such kindness to the man trying to thwart them?
From Alon’s perspective, it was illogical.
That wasn't the only anomaly.
For example, the ‘resistance’ mentioned by the noise was vague, and the term “Star Eater” was equally baffling.
But of all the riddles—
The noise’s parting words were the most haunting.
As Alon contemplated the meaning, his gaze fell upon the ring on his hand.
The artifact that had facilitated his first contract long ago.
Spinning the ring idly, Alon shook his head.
No matter how he analyzed it, the two restrictions he had established in the past didn't seem to fit what the noise described.
Back then, he had only restricted the use of specific incantations and hand signs.
He was still lost in thought when—
“Wh-what is that?!”
A cry of pure horror shattered the silence, and Alon looked up.
Instinctively, his hands balled into tight fists.
The vista before Alon was the same one he had admired just a day prior.
The capital, bathed in the golden hues of a mountain sunset, should have been a masterpiece of beauty.
However, there was a gruesome change—
The capital—
“Holy… shit…!”
Was engulfed in flames.
And at the heart of the inferno was the palace, the very center of the city.
“A coup!?”
The fox beastkin, who had been their nervous guide, wailed in agony.
“Brother, are we moving?”
At Radan’s sharp prompt, Alon turned instantly.
“Let’s go.”
It wasn't long before they reached the city gates.
“Ugh—”
The fox beastkin recoiled, paralyzed by fear.
The ground was carpeted with the remains of countless soldiers.
Every single one had been savagely slaughtered.
And the horror didn't stop there.
The path leading to the palace was lined with corpses; the scale of the massacre was beyond words.
The carnage looked less like the work of men and more like the feeding ground of monsters.
Alon and his team sprinted toward the palace grounds.
And in the central courtyard, they witnessed—
“Huh?”
Beasts were gorging themselves on the mutilated remains of the fallen.
Surrounding them were so many soldiers they filled the entire palace plaza.
“Aha, uninvited guests.”
Standing in the middle of the chaos, dressed in lavish robes with a condescending sneer, was Birang, the First Prince of the Eastern Nation.
Prostrate before him in a pathetic state, his face a mask of suffering—
“Grrk—”
Was Urang.
“I didn't foresee this particular outcome.”
As Alon’s group stood frozen, a composed voice spoke.
Birang, holding a sword dripping with fresh blood, said—
“Hey, are you people actually morons?”
He grinned, tilting his head back arrogantly.
“What?”
“I asked if you're stupid. It should have been obvious this would happen before you even set foot in the capital. I honestly can't fathom why you bothered to come back.”
Birang tapped his temple, laughing in mockery.
“To commit treason against Cheonga—!”
Urang, pinned to the dirt in shame, bellowed in rage.
“Oh, please, Father, you're giving me a headache.”
Birang clicked his tongue as if his father’s words were nothing but annoying noise.
“If you had simply abdicated the throne to me, we could have avoided all this. You're the one who made this difficult—so don't blame me.”
With a cruel smirk, he continued—
“Oh, and if you were counting on help from that ‘great race’ woman, forget it. She’s likely perished in the trap by now.”
The revelation hit like a physical blow.
“S-she’s dead? Impossible—”
“If she weren't, she'd be here. She walked into the snare yesterday, after all.”
Urang was paralyzed by the news.
Birang didn't spare his father another glance, shifting his focus.
“Well then, time for you all to say goodbye.”
With a casual flick of his blade—
