Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 290 : Sin of Greed (1)

The eastern reaches of the Allied Kingdom Alliance.

Buried deep within a dense forest, this location sat closer to the elven realm of Greynifra than any other part of the Alliance territory.

“Ugh—”

A woman emerged from the earth, clawing her way through the soil.

With a face twisted in revulsion, she gagged repeatedly.

Emil, the Apostle of Greed, scowled with intense loathing.

Memories flooded back into Greed’s mind, passed down through her lineage.

She recalled the encounter with that peculiar blue-eyed entity, followed by the man clad in black sacred robes she had seen upon waking in this substitute vessel.

Furthermore, she strained to identify the individual who had effortlessly stripped her of her power.

Despite her weakness, she forced herself to stand.

Even with the restricted access to the “library” contained within the avatar she had surrendered, there was no data regarding the nature or identity of that being.

Anxiety began to cloud Emil’s features.

She had exhausted her supply of prepared bodies.

To put it simply, if she perished again—

She would succumb to a final, permanent death.

Emil compelled her unstable form to move forward.

In truth, she had never intended to inhabit this shell.

It was a mere contingency plan riddled with defects.

The vessel was poorly synchronized, and worse, its resting place was located in a region of extreme peril.

She attempted a hasty retreat from the area.

“Hm—so you have returned to the living.”

That voice caused her to freeze instantly.

Emil’s pupils shook with terror.

The voice was hauntingly familiar.

She recognized it because its owner—

“You’re—”

—was the very person who had seized a portion of her Authority, a man whose true identity remained a total mystery to her.

In a flash, obsidian roots erupted from the ground beneath Emil, lashing out toward the figure in sacred robes.

She was well aware that such an exertion could shatter her fragile body, which lacked both her “book” and a stable host—but survival demanded the risk.

However—

“Wasn’t this your tactic last time as well?”

The man in black neutralized her assault without effort.

In fact, he didn't even need to parry.

The roots crumbled into ash before they could even brush against him.

“You are aware that this is futile.”

“....!”

In that surreal moment, Emil was paralyzed by pure dread.

The man in the black sacred robes stepped toward her with casual indifference.

Tap—

He gave her forehead a sharp, light flick.

Then—

“Be grateful. I am granting you a unique token.”

Emil stared at him, bewildered by his declaration.

“!”

Suddenly, she noticed her flesh turning bone-white and solidifying like chalk; her eyes widened in horror.

The meaning of this transformation was terrifyingly clear to her.

“A gift perfectly suited for an Apostle.”

“S-Stop! I beg of you!”

Emil’s gaze was consumed by overwhelming fear.

Regardless of her pleas, her body continued to petrify, undergoing a process of total reconstruction.

She was being reborn—through the essence of sin.

“Stop! I said stop! Please...!”

Emil no longer puzzled over how a mere man could wield a power reserved for Apostles.

She only knew how to beg.

But despite her frantic wails, the man merely looked down at her with cold eyes.

“Should you not show gratitude? Your form will now harmonize with the world’s inevitability.”

“Be quiet! Let me go! I never asked for this!”

She shrieked, her expression contorted in agony.

The man observed her in silence for a moment, then spoke—

“You are unworthy of the title of Apostle.”

“What...?”

His voice was ice-cold.

“You are ignorant. You are merely intoxicated by strength—clueless as to why these forces exist, the sacred duties they fulfill, or the very reason for your own birth—”

Such pathetic fools.

He whispered under his breath, but Emil could no longer respond.

Her body had fully calcified, completing its evolution into a different entity.

The man glanced at the white husk before turning his eyes toward the celestial glow of the Milky Way.

In a heartbeat, he vanished.

Left behind in the clearing—

Snap—

—was a pale cocoon.

Waiting to hatch into something new.

A pristine, white cocoon.

***

Two weeks had passed since Alon’s departure from the Eastern Kingdom.

“Phew—”

Having returned to the Allied Kingdom on the Zaebo, Radan’s vessel, Alon persisted in his training with Kylrus, supported by Penia.

[Meow-]

“Oh, his manifestation has lengthened.”

Penia remarked as Alon stroked Blackie’s head. The creature had emerged from his chest, its tail swishing back and forth.

“You think so?”

“Yes, he used to retreat almost instantly, but he seems to stay out longer with every passing day.”

“His stamina is definitely growing.”

Initially, Alon had worried because the duration of the manifestation hadn't shown any progress.

But things had changed; he could now endure for a significant amount of time during his sessions with Kylrus.

As he contemplated the magic Kylrus had recently taught him—

“Shall we conclude our training for today?”

“Let’s. I need to focus on my magical studies and investigate the divine rank further.”

Alon let out a soft sigh as he spoke.

Even while traveling, his schedule remained packed for a specific reason—the warnings Noise had given him.

Essentially, even if Alon eliminated the apostles, the arrival of the sins was an absolute certainty, and he needed to be ready.

Of course, Alon wasn't the only protector in the world of Psychedelia.

According to the original narrative, there were others—Eliban and his party, along with various legends depending on the path Eliban chose.

Nevertheless, Alon trained with such intensity because—

He kept encountering signs that this world and the Psychedelia he remembered were fundamentally different.

Therefore—

Independently of Eliban, Alon was determined to forge his own defenses against the sins.

His primary objective was to unlock his maximum capability.

He had already made significant strides.

His hand signs and incantations were mostly refined—leaving only further research—and while three divine ranks were still beyond him, he could masterfully wield two.

Yet, Alon remained aware.

This level of power was still insufficient to challenge a sin.

He especially needed to perfect Reverse Heaven.

While diving into his magical research, he also considered recruiting allies to help combat the coming sins.

Sins were not enemies one could face in isolation.

Just as Noise had suggested, a meeting with the Observer was necessary.

As Alon mentally checked off his future tasks—

“By the way, Marquis, how long will we be staying in Greynifra after we land?”

Penia inquired.

“We are stopping there, but is there a reason for your question?”

“I might have to pay a quick visit to the Blue Tower.”

“The Mage Tower? Is there a problem?”

“Not at all. It’s regarding the conference. Remember the paper I submitted recently?”

“I do.”

“The presentation is finished, but they’ve requested a follow-up lecture. I wanted to know our return schedule.”

“Are you planning to leave us and go ahead?”

“No! How could I? We’re staying in Greynifra specifically for Rine Grof, aren’t we?”

When Alon nodded, Penia spoke as if the matter were settled.

“I might be ambitious—and perhaps a bit fond of prestige—but I wouldn't dream of missing the welcome for someone who put their life on the line for us.”

She noted that without Rine, they would have been scattered across the dimensions.

She made it clear that they only existed as more than stardust because of Rine’s sacrifice.

“…Is that how you feel?”

“Of course.”

“That’s… quite unexpected.”

“Hmm?”

“I honestly expected you to prioritize the conference.”

“…I’ve suspected this for a while, but you really are quite mean to me, aren't you?”

“I’m only joking.”

“Even when you say that, your face makes it sound like a cold fact.”

Alon looked away from Penia, who was pouting in frustration, and returned to his scrolls.

It was a peaceful afternoon.

Time ticked away, and only a month remained before Rine’s seal was set to break.

Upon reaching the continent, Alon immediately set their course.

“Alright, let’s make for Greynifra.”

“Let’s move.”

“Understood.”

As Evan and Penia signaled their agreement, Alon looked toward Historia.

“Ria, what are your plans?”

Historia replied instantly—

“I am staying with you.”

There wasn't a trace of doubt in her voice.

“No other places you need to be?”

“None.”

“Then we leave immediately… Oh, Radan, what about you?”

He turned his attention to the captain.

“I’m coming along. I need to see for myself that Rine is unharmed.”

After Radan’s prompt reply, Alon addressed the entire group.

“Very well, let’s depart at once.”

He began walking toward the waiting carriage.

Whoosh—

Naturally, Historia took her place at his side, her tail coiling around his waist.

Though it had been jarring at first, a month of travel had made the sensation familiar.

Alon reached the carriage and pulled the door open.

“??”

His eyes widened in shock.

He wasn't the only one; the entire group stood frozen in disbelief.

It was a bizarre sight.

Tucked inside the carriage Alon had arrived in—

“Zzz…”

—was Seolrang, who should have been nowhere near this place, snoring away without a single worry.

“…Seolrang?”

At Alon’s low-voiced prompt—

“Ngah?!”

Seolrang sprang awake, startled into a panic.

“…Huh.”

After a few seconds, she seemed to realize where she was and began looking around frantically.

The group remained in stunned silence, watching her eyes dart back and forth in confusion.

***

Meanwhile—

Within the Holy Nation of Rosario—

“Then, let us bring today's session to a close.”

“Understood.”

“Excellent work, everyone.”

“Remember, the next meeting will focus on the vacancy of the Papacy, so your attendance is mandatory.”

The council, consisting only of Yuman and the cardinals, had concluded.

Once the cardinals had filed out—

“Sigh.”

Yuman exhaled a heavy breath.

This was their fourth marathon session in a single week.

As he rubbed his throbbing temples, something on the mahogany table drew his attention.

“…?”

“?”

It was a mangled piece of metal.

A piece of junk that had been violently crushed.

Yuman walked over to inspect it, tilting his head in bewilderment.

Scrap metal wasn't rare, but finding it in the high council chamber was unheard of.

A sense of unease washed over him.

After a moment of thought, Yuman remembered that the object sat exactly where Cardinal Yutia had been seated.

And then—

“…Huh?”

He spotted another discrepancy.

The silver chalice that graced every cardinal’s position was missing from Yutia’s spot.

Yuman looked back at the scrap.

This time, he saw the detail he had missed.

On the surface of the twisted metal—on what was once a pristine silver vessel—was a horribly distorted engraving of the national crest.

“…??”

Staring at the ruined cup, which looked as though it had been crushed by something far stronger than a human hand, Yuman was left speechless.