Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 289 : Treatment (8)

Birang gazed forward, his mind a total blank.

His vision was saturated by the bloodfire, which showed no signs of stopping as it continued its relentless spread.

Thud—

The repetitive, rhythmic sound pounded against his eardrums.

At times it was a roar; at others, a faint whisper.

Regardless of the volume, both beasts and warriors fell in succession, their lives being the currency paid to fuel the expanding bloodfire.

In the center of this carnage, a woman appeared.

The dying light of the setting sun caught her white hair, now stained crimson with gore.

Next, his sight was met by her hollow, vacant eyes.

And eventually—

He saw the five severed heads she gripped firmly in her hand.

.....Ah.

A quiet, broken sigh escaped from Birang.

Was his reaction due to the sheer brutality of those five heads, their eyes still wide with the shock of death?

No.

That was impossible—he had already traded too many lives for the sake of this grand design.

The true reason for his lament—

Was that among the trophies held by the member of the Great Race was a face he recognized instantly.

Right in the middle was a countenance he would never fail to identify.

'Could such a thing truly be achieved?'

‘Have no fear, Your Highness. Though she hails from the Great Race, she cannot possibly survive our combined strength.’

‘Are you not being far too reckless? She is of the Great Race. Such a monster possesses the power to cleave mountains in two with a single strike.’

‘I am well aware. However, do not fret—you would be stunned to know the extent of our preparations for her. We have even secured the Grand Sealing True Talisman.’

‘The Grand Sealing True Talisman...? You refer to the forbidden relic whispered to have imprisoned the spiritual beasts of Mount Tai?’

‘Precisely. Even those of the Great Race are rendered helpless once the Sealing Talisman takes hold... You surely grasp the implications of that.’

Birang’s thoughts drifted back to the secret meeting he held with Cheonga just days prior.

This triggered a memory from his youth.

The first image to surface—

Was a titanic spirit beast resembling a serpent, large enough to wrap its massive coils around an entire peak.

And following that—

Was the Grand Sealing True Talisman, which had effortlessly suppressed that mountain-sized snake.

That memory was why Birang had felt such confidence after his discussion with Cheonga.

No matter the strength of the Great Race, if they were fully suppressed, they could never overcome Cheonga and the gathered generals.

Birang stared vacantly at Cheonga’s face—or rather, his decapitated head.

The stunned expression etched onto the features suggested the man hadn't even grasped the moment of his own demise.

Had the strategy failed, leading to this catastrophic end?

Birang quickly dismissed the notion.

The colossal surge of blue mana radiating from the Great Race woman told the story of what had actually occurred.

Cheonga had successfully carried out the plan.

There was no doubt about it.

He had deployed the Grand Sealing True Talisman capable of binding mountain-sized spirit beasts, and every prepared trap had been sprung correctly.

Yet, the Grand General had been slaughtered anyway.

And even in death, he remained ignorant of how he had been outmatched.

“This is impossible... this makes no sense...”

Birang collapsed into a fit of despairing laughter, his body trembling as he began to retreat with unsteady steps.

Slowly, the shadow of terror began to drown his eyes.

Observing this, Historia raised her blade without a moment's pause.

“Aaaaaagh!!”

Right then—

“Stop! I beg you, wait a moment~!”

Urang, who had been a silent spectator until now, lunged forward to intercept Historia.

Every eye in the vicinity shifted toward him.

Still restrained by the guards,

He cried out—

“Lady Historia, I implore you. Please, I beg for the life of my idiot son...!”

He pressed his body to the earth in a desperate plea.

It was a display of humility unthinkable for a monarch who had just survived a coup.

Watching from the side, Alon and his companions wore looks of utter shock.

Historia merely looked at Urang with a vacant expression.

The first person to break the silence was—

“I—I was a fool! I am truly, deeply sorry!”

Birang himself.

The man who had been consumed by greed just moments ago was now prostrating himself, slamming his head against the stone in a frantic bid for mercy.

As if this were his final hope for survival, he beat his forehead against the ground repeatedly.

The floor began to turn red with blood, and ugly wounds opened on his brow, but Birang did not cease his groveling.

He understood clearly—

This was his only path to staying alive.

Thus, as he continued to bow desperately—

“Lift your head.”

Upon hearing Historia’s cold, emotionless order, an involuntary smirk touched Birang’s lips as he faced the dirt.

The heat of survival surged through his veins.

He knew he had to hide his relief—so as he attempted to force tears and raise his gaze—

“Huh?”

Birang realized something was wrong.

He was trying to look at the face of the Great Race woman.

However, no matter how far back he tilted his neck, her face remained out of sight.

In fact, his field of vision seemed to be dropping lower.

No matter how hard he tried to crane his neck upward.

No matter how much effort he put into looking up—

The face of the Great Race remained elusive.

And then—

“When you keep your head tucked like that, it makes it difficult to swing.”

With those final words, Birang’s mind was plunged into the dark abyss.

The following day, after Historia had executed First Prince Birang without a second thought—

And had, in less than twenty-four hours, purged every significant leader of the coup—

Alon began his preparations to depart the Eastern Kingdom amidst a climate of extreme tension.

In truth, he had hoped to have a word with Urang before leaving, but the circumstances made it impossible.

It was only natural.

Barely a day had passed since the uprising.

The royal court was in complete disarray, and Urang was struggling to restore order.

“But really, why did he try to save a person like that? Is it that 'no father can give up on his child' sentiment?”

“You are surprisingly naive.”

“That came out of nowhere.”

“It isn't random—it's a reaction to what you just said.”

“But isn't it the truth?”

“Do you honestly believe the King tried to intervene because he was concerned for his son?”

“Was that not it?”

While Alon packed his belongings, he overheard the conversation between Evan and Penia.

“Certainly not. Isn't it obvious? He required a public execution.”

“An example?”

“Precisely. If a revolt occurs and the sovereign cannot handle it personally, relying instead on foreign aid, what kind of reputation does that leave him with?”

“But if he hadn't done that, wouldn't he have just been murdered by his own child?”

“By the time Historia arrived, that danger had already vanished.”

If Birang had been spared temporarily only to be executed formally later, it would have maintained the facade that the King still controlled the power of the state.

As Penia finished her explanation with a shrug—

“You... are actually quite intelligent, aren't you?”

Evan whispered, sounding slightly impressed.

“What do you mean 'actually'? I've always been smart!”

Penia shot back.

:

Their bickering served as background noise as Alon reached the palace gates.

“Sir.”

“Historia.”

As if she had been waiting for him, Historia was standing right at the entrance.

“Did your tasks go well?”

After quelling the rebellion the day before, she had vanished for a time, claiming she had unfinished business.

She nodded at Alon’s inquiry.

“Yes, it is finished. Also, take this.”

She presented Alon with a small, ornate jewelry box.

“What is this for?”

“It is a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Yes.”

Her expression remained blank as she nodded again.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because I obtained it specifically for the Divine One.”

“This?”

“Yes, I cannot appear before the Divine One with empty hands.”

Hearing that, Alon finally understood the true motive behind Historia’s journey to the Eastern Kingdom.

“...So you traveled all this way just to find a gift?”

“Of all the riches I am aware of, this is the most valuable.”

Historia’s statement was delivered with the simple honesty of a child.

To this, Alon replied.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

He voiced his appreciation and held the blue box firmly.

Historia’s tail began to twitch and sway.

“Will you not open it?”

“The fact that you gave me a gift is far more significant than whatever is inside.”

At Alon’s words, the wagging of Historia’s tail intensified.

Despite her stoic face, the emotions betraying her through her tail caused Alon to smile to himself.

He asked her, “Historia, are you leaving the Eastern Kingdom now?”

“Yes.”

“Then we should travel together.”

“No.”

“Is there more for you to do here?”

Historia nodded immediately.

“You should go first. I will conclude what remains and catch up shortly.”

“I’ll wait for you at our previous meeting spot then.”

“No need for that. I will be quick.”

With that assurance, Alon departed the Eastern Kingdom ahead of her.

***

Once Alon had cleared the palace, Historia went inside to speak with Urang.

“You have arrived.”

Urang offered a respectful bow as she entered.

“What is it you wish to say?”

Historia, however, was indifferent to his display of respect, her tone flat and her expression unchanging.

She had only appeared because Urang had requested an audience.

Under normal circumstances, she would have ignored him, but having accepted a royal heirloom of the Eastern Kingdom, she felt obliged to listen.

As Historia stood waiting, Urang bowed once more and spoke.

“I requested your presence to offer my gratitude.”

“Gratitude for what?”

“Our agreement did not include anyone besides Cheonga and the martyrs.”

His statement was accurate.

When Historia first arrived, Urang had only asked for two things.

First, the death of General Cheonga.

Second, the elimination of the martyrs.

Anything beyond those targets was technically outside her contract.

Therefore—

“I am deeply thankful that you considered the welfare of the Eastern Kingdom.”

Urang offered his sincere thanks.

However, as Historia looked at him—

“That is incorrect.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

She answered him bluntly.

Urang’s face went blank with bewilderment.

And then—

“It was not because I held any concern for the Eastern Kingdom.”

Her voice rang out with total clarity.

Before Urang could even stammer out a question, Historia continued.

“He aimed his blade at the Divine One.”

That was the sole reason, she whispered softly.

Then she looked at Urang, “Is that all you had to say?”

“Ah? Y-Yes, that is all.”

Pulling himself together, Urang responded quickly.

“Very well.”

The moment he spoke, Historia turned her back and walked out.

Urang stood staring at the doorway for a long time before sinking into his throne, reflecting on the events of the previous day.

He remembered the moment he had begged for Birang’s life, hoping to simplify the political cleanup.

And Historia had looked down at him.

Yes...

As Urang thought back, there had been no feeling in those eyes.

Only the cold sensation of her making a judgment.

Urang had assumed she was weighing the future of the Eastern Kingdom.

Deciding if it was better to kill Birang immediately or leave him for later.

But he had been mistaken.

He saw the truth now.

She didn't care about any of that.

Not the kingdom.

Not Birang.

In that moment, those eyes had been judging Urang himself.

She was determining if Urang had played any part in Birang’s plot against Marquis Palatio.

And consequently—

Whether she should slaughter Urang along with his son.

“Phew.”

A cold shiver raced from the crown of Urang’s head to his toes.

The realization that he had narrowly avoided death without even knowing it filled him with a profound sense of horror.

Urang braced himself once more.

To him, Marquis Palatio had once been a savior of the old kingdom.

But in another sense, he was merely a figure of history.

Urang intended to treat him with honor, but there was no deep emotional bond.

However, at this moment, Urang was certain of one thing.

He must never, under any circumstances, make an enemy of his former benefactor.

Because now he understood.

The Marquis had a protector by his side who would, without a second thought, destroy an entire nation simply because someone dared to stand against him.

Urang let out a heavy, weary sigh.

...His head was throbbing.