Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 301 : Knights Order...? (1)

The elven realm of Greynifra.

Deep within those woods, nestled beneath the boughs of the World Tree, lay Fildagreen.

"Whew~"

Reconstruction was moving faster lately, bolstered by the arrival of human mages sent through the efforts of Alon and Penia.

Despite the progress, Magrina let out a heavy sigh as she surveyed the scarred landscape of Fildagreen.

"Hello?"

She snapped her head toward the origin of the sudden greeting.

"...It’s you."

"It has been a while, Your Majesty."

Eliban stood there.

He wore a smile that suggested he had been standing in that spot for an eternity.

Magrina didn't show any shock; she simply addressed him directly.

"Why did you do that back then?"

Eliban cocked his head to the side, looking genuinely perplexed.

"To which moment are you referring, exactly?"

He gave a casual shrug, appearing as though he truly had no idea what she meant.

Magrina was not deterred and pushed for an answer.

"When Sin appeared, why did you stop me?"

The memory remained etched into her mind with total clarity.

When the Sin of Greed moved to strike Alon, Magrina had been prepared to unleash the power of Baarma.

She had been ready to reveal her secret—that she had absorbed Baarma’s strength—to all the elves.

She hadn't cared if her brother found out.

His survival was her only priority.

The only reason she hadn't acted was Eliban's interference.

Just as she prepared to ignite her power, he had appeared in the distance, silently shaking his head and suppressing her energy for a brief moment.

Eliban met Magrina’s gaze and hummed thoughtfully.

"Even if you hadn’t intervened, Marquis would have been fine."

His tone was airy and light.

"...He would have been fine?"

"Truly, he would have."

He gave a firm nod.

Magrina searched his face.

His blue eyes were filled with an absolute, unwavering certainty in his own statement.

"Did you visit the future or something?"

She asked the question with a slight scowl.

"The future, huh."

Eliban whispered the words to himself before flashing his trademark grin.

"The truth is, no matter what the future holds, my conviction remains unchanged."

"...Excuse me?"

"My hope is not something that breaks easily."

He spoke with chilling resolve.

Magrina was about to retort but found herself instinctively falling silent.

The aura surrounding Eliban had transformed in a heartbeat.

Even though his smile never wavered, the vibe he projected—and the disturbing flicker of fanaticism in his eyes—made her throat go dry.

"Ah—"

As if suddenly snapping back to reality, Eliban instantly softened the atmosphere.

"Regardless, I should add that the Marquis was never in danger. If anything, you were the one likely to get hurt, which is why I stepped in."

"......"

"Oh, and one more thing: I’ve finished clearing all those strange gates. I came to report that, but I suppose I’ve rambled on too long."

Having finished his one-sided explanation, he prepared to depart.

"Well then, I’ll be off. I must maintain a brisk pace."

And with that, he was gone.

Eliban vanished as if he had never existed.

Magrina lingered, staring at the empty space where he had been standing.

Her expression had shifted from her earlier annoyance.

In that split second when Eliban’s gaze had turned sharp, she had recognized something.

She had felt a familiar presence coming from him.

An aura she had encountered quite recently.

Because of that, she couldn't look away from the spot of his disappearance for a long time.

***

Alon stared at the sea of people crammed between the inner and outer walls of his territory, a sense of dread pooling in his stomach.

"I didn’t expect this many people to show up..."

He couldn't deny it; posting the recruitment notice for the Sect's Knights' Order so carelessly had been a blunder.

Ironically, it was the very lack of detail that had caused the surge.

He never dreamed such a massive crowd would gather for such a vague invitation.

In Alon's eyes, the notice wasn't nearly attractive enough to draw this kind of attention.

"Evan."

"Yes, My Lord."

"We only put up a basic recruitment flyer for the Knights' Order, right?"

"That is correct."

“Was there anything else? Salary details, benefits, or working conditions?”

“No, sir. Nothing else was included.”

“So you're telling me this entire crowd showed up because of that one tiny notice?”

“Precisely.”

“This is unbelievable.”

Alon let out a groan, muttering to himself.

Evan, however, looked at him with a confused expression.

“Is it? There are many people, but this seems well within what I expected.”

“You expected this?”

“Yes.”

“How...?”

“My Lord, did you honestly think this wouldn't happen?”

Noticing the faint hint of disappointment in Evan’s eyes, Alon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“...I suppose you have a point.”

“To be blunt, My Lord, I believe you are far too humble regarding your own status.”

“...Am I?”

“Yes. Are you truly unaware of your own fame?”

Alon hummed softly before responding.

“Well, I knew my name carried some weight.”

“You must be joking.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“My Lord, you aren't just 'known.' You are so famous that if a citizen of the Allied Kingdoms doesn't know your name, they'd be mistaken for someone from the Empire.”

“I’m really that famous?”

“There are mages who pursued the path of magic solely because they idolized you.”

“And that's just the start,” Evan pressed on.

“My Lord might not feel it, but your reputation is staggering. It’s perfectly logical that this many people arrived.

Moreover, several knights in Caliban have already grown significantly stronger by utilizing the power of Kalannon the lightning receiver.”

“Oh.”

Thinking of the people in Caliban, Alon let out a soft sigh.

“So, even without special perks, people would gladly drop everything for the chance to be called a ‘Knight of Marquis Palatio.’ It is only natural.”

“I see.”

“It’s more than just ‘I see’; it was inevitable.”

“I understand…”

“I will say it once more, My Lord—you must realize your own standing. Did you know that knights from Caliban recently visited the estate to bow before the statue gifted by Deus as if it were a holy site?”

Alon stood speechless for a moment, then sighed and tried to focus.

“...Fine. Let’s start the interviews.”

“I will have everything ready.”

With that, the selection process for the Knights’ Order commenced.

***

At twenty-three years old, Seamus possessed immense pride in his mastery of the blade.

He had earned that pride.

Raised by a hermit master, he had never stepped foot into the wider world.

His entire life had been defined by the sword, and he had achieved the rank of Swordmaster at an incredibly young age.

Even his master, a man rarely given to flattery, had lauded his talent upon reaching that level.

That praise had only inflated Seamus’ ego.

When his master finally permitted him to descend the mountain, Seamus made a vow.

He would return home covered in glory achieved through his own power.

The first step toward that lofty goal—

He would become a knight under Marquis Palatio.

He was aware that Caliban was the traditional route for success.

However, Seamus wanted a more unique path to the top.

In truth, he was being arrogant.

Furthermore—

Marquis Palatio’s fame was so great that even he and his master had heard tales of him in their isolation.

Seamus hadn't hesitated to apply.

As he traveled toward the Palatio lands, he was filled with grand delusions.

He pictured himself joining the order, becoming the Marquis’ favorite, and eventually eclipsing the five great Swordmasters of Caliban.

He never doubted these dreams would manifest.

Passing the test was a foregone conclusion in his mind.

His master had told him that a Swordmaster was a rare sight in the Allied Kingdoms.

Full of ambition, Seamus arrived for his exam at the Palatio estate.

“...?”

But a sense of unease washed over him.

At the testing grounds, he saw others whose skills seemed to rival his own.

“??”

And there were far more of them than he ever anticipated...

As a Swordmaster, Seamus had the ability to gauge the strength of others.

That realization only deepened his confusion.

“Uh...?”

When he looked to one side, he saw powerful individuals eyeing each other with intense caution.

They were clearly on high alert.

To the other side, there were dozens of warriors who seemed to be at his level.

And it didn't stop there.

“What is that?”

“Is that a member of the royal family?”

“Why would royalty take a knight's exam?”

“Wait—is that a mage over there?”

“Hold on, isn't that the daughter of the Red Tower Master?”

“What? I recognize that person from somewhere.”

“Baba Yaga? The Baba Yaga of Colony?”

“This is insane—why is one of Caliban’s top five swordmasters here?! We don't stand a chance.”

As the whispers swirled around him—

...Is the standard of the Allied Kingdoms truly this high?

Seamus felt his confidence withering away...

***

Alon used a basic physical test to weed out the initial crowd and moved straight into the interviews to save time.

Truthfully, he had wanted to set stricter requirements beyond fitness.

But if he had—

He would have had to reject many who had traveled great distances just because they didn't fit a specific mold.

He decided he would simply have to work harder during the selection.

He called the first candidate into the room.

When he looked up to see the applicant—

“?”

Alon stared in confusion.

“Rim?”

“Greetings! Oh—Marquis, sir!”

The first person through the door was—

Rim, a member of Fildagreen’s Shadow Leaves.

“...What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my interview.”

Alon bit back the words that nearly escaped his mouth.

“Don’t you already belong to a group?”

“I can quit!”

Had she even cleared this with Magrina?

The question burned in his mind, but Alon simply flipped his papers as if the answer was obvious.

“...Please leave.”

With a dejected slump of her shoulders, Rim exited.

After dismissing several other elves who followed Rim's lead, the next candidate entered.

“Greetings, My Lord!”

“...Filian?”

“Yes! Filian Merkiliane, at your service!”

It was Filian Merkiliane, a high-ranking noble from Ashtalon.

He was beaming with a confident, bright smile that left Alon no room for doubt.

“Please leave.”

“Huh?”

“Aren't you a noble of the Ashtalon Kingdom?”

It was a difficult situation because Alon actually would have valued Filian's skills in his order.

However, Filian was a prominent noble.

More than that, he was a young Swordmaster and a national treasure to Ashtalon; recruiting him would be a diplomatic nightmare.

Alon rejected him without a second thought.

But then—

Filian’s expression turned remarkably solemn as he spoke again:

“Greetings once more! I am Filian!”

“?”

Alon was utterly lost.

Then came the bombshell—

“I have officially discarded the Merkiliane name! I am now a commoner, so you can call me whatever you wish!”

“Cough—!”

Beside him, Evan, who had been fighting off a yawn, began to cough violently.

Alon closed his eyes and massaged his temples.

He could tell this process was going to be anything but simple.