Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 333 : The one named Sloth (6)

With Radan's trident in his grasp, Sloth muttered calmly, leaving everyone stunned in place.

Something felt off about it.

Sloth's state was anything but fine—understating it wouldn't even capture the truth.

His form had been shredded by endless strikes.

His words held no trace of magical force.

They lacked any intimidating weight.

He uttered them plainly, like declaring an obvious truth.

The sole feeling they expressed was one.

Regret.

Nothing more.

Confusion stirred within Alon.

What feeling was Sloth displaying?

From where did it originate?

Why did his face show that look?

But such pondering didn't linger.

“Too bad.”

Sloth's voice dragged on unhurriedly.

And then—

KWAHHHHH!!!

A thunderous blast that threatened to shatter every eardrum.

“Uweeegh~!”

Radan shuddered violently and coughed up dark blood.

Before his eyes, Sloth already stood tall and unyielding.

Radan crumpled, heaving blood repeatedly.

The moment the truth dawned on them, Seolrang sprang into action first.

KWAANG—!!!

Just like earlier, she blurred forward at impossible speed, whipping her leg toward Sloth.

KWAHHHHH—!!!!

Yet again, Sloth's frame was hurled aside, ripping the earth with a booming crash.

However—

“!”

Sloth remained utterly unchanged.

He simply dropped his right hand, which had stopped Seolrang's strike, wearing a disinterested look.

Seolrang's eyes flashed wide for a split second before her brows knit tight, and she surged ahead once more.

Golden sparks crackled, lifting nearby objects into the air briefly.

As though suspended in emptiness, they hovered before detonating with a fierce bang.

Seolrang's punch slammed into Sloth right after.

Another wild bellow upended the terrain around them.

Still, Sloth merely slid backward, easing his limb down without a scratch.

Seolrang gnashed her lip and rushed forward anew.

CRACKLE—CRACKLE!!

Golden bolts streaked everywhere, assaulting Sloth from all angles.

Head, flank, torso, limbs, spine.

Flashes pierced in and out without pause.

The foe's figure jerked about for an instant.

Then Seolrang hoisted her foot to crush down on Sloth's skull.

“!”

The very next heartbeat—just an instant.

She twisted her position.

Hair's breadth away.

She scarcely parried Sloth's retaliation.

KWA-KA-KA-KA-KA-KANG—!!!

This clash was beyond compare.

Seolrang flew back, gouging a massive furrow across the darkened plain.

She gripped her quivering arm tightly and ground her teeth.

Yet every onlooker already knew the outcome.

Sloth's body was still a ruin.

That fact only deepened the hush among them.

All who witnessed it grasped the reality.

In his current form, Sloth proved unbeatable.

Gradually, each person remembered Sloth's earlier words.

That dying at his hands was inevitable.

That soft whisper lingered in their thoughts.

“Ha—”

A hollow chuckle escaped someone.

Another gazed in numb horror.

One more stood rigid, unable to process the scene.

But one certainty bound them all.

They—

Had no choice but to accept Sloth's claim.

That he was a foe beyond their reach.

That he was invincible to them.

That he was untouchable, impossible to challenge.

The troops.

The warriors.

The elites.

The spellcasters.

—They knew.

Acceptance was unavoidable.

Hope faded from their stares.

Their resolve and fire crumbled like ash in a gale.

The bravery they mustered against grotesque masses now morphed into profound dread.

Yet—

Alon stayed impassive, composed.

He evaluated the scene with cool detachment.

Sloth's demeanor differed from Alon's expectations.

His strategy had fallen apart the instant Sloth emerged.

In simple terms, Alon had lost.

Still, despair didn't grip him.

It was acceptable.

He hadn't played his last hand.

“....”

Alon scanned the area.

At the assembly here, compelled time and again to yield before Sloth.

Witnessing that, he raised his eyes.

Overhead, true to the scheme, the tear in reality persisted, and his Reverse Heaven method remained active.

Defeat wasn't total yet.

……

Alon had mapped out the strategy fully in his thoughts.

Now, he just had to merge the key elements into a fresh approach.

Naturally, this wasn't as robust as a scheme brewed over days.

But it would work.

With that in mind, Alon gazed silently at the heavens.

There loomed—remnant of the prior design—the “rift.”

So, what was left was duration.

The span to withstand that illogical, outrageous being.

The span to maintain the rift until readiness.

But no one here could secure that span against the “Sin of Sloth.”

Not Seolrang.

Not Radan.

Not Eliban, Psychedelia's lead figure.

They couldn't halt the sin ahead.

Even if countermeasures were all set—

The true sin that materialized outstripped Alon's prior knowledge in absurdity.

Nevertheless, surrender wasn't possible.

For yielding meant the end of all.

Alon toyed with a figurine in his pocket.

It was “The Beast of Possibility,” a relic he'd claimed from Rosario's Labyrinth of Whispers, post-confronting the partially roused Sin of Purity.

A single activation item that called forth the “user” in peak condition for a short while.

Surely, even this wouldn't readily repel the sin at hand.

But that suited him fine.

All Alon required was time—precisely that.

Thus.

“Radan.”

Alon flung the Beast of Possibility toward the nearest, Radan.

Radan snatched the figurine, his features twisting in brief bewilderment.

“Pour magic into it.”

Obeying Alon's order, Radan channeled mana into it promptly.

Then—

The figurine flared brilliantly and engulfed Radan entirely.

—WUUUUUUUUUUNG

A torrent of immense magical force burst forth.

All eyes snapped to the source.

Even Sloth's weary glance drifted to Radan, now sheathed in azure glow.

The radiance unleashed ever more potent mana.

Yet Sloth lingered motionless, unconcerned.

Though the tide appeared to shift, Sloth stirred not.

Indeed, his formerly vacant eyes now gleamed with odd eagerness.

And at last, as the surging mana ebbed and the glow softened—

There appeared—

“What the…?”

A baffled Radan.

Still draped in his familiar azure plate.

A lone sentiment crossed Sloth's visage.

It was—

Clear letdown.

Every gaze fixed on Radan.

Seolrang, Eliban, the spellcasters and troops, even the warriors.

And their looks all mirrored the same—perplexity and letdown.

It made sense.

Radan had taken an item from Alon and unleashed power that quaked the realm.

A slender optimism had sparked in their chests.

Perhaps—merely perhaps—a path out of this hopelessness lingered?

But emerging from that vast mana surge was merely…

A tidier take on Radan.

Altered?

To the warriors, troops, and spellcasters, no shift was evident.

Seolrang merely noted, “Ah, he's grown a touch taller. Perhaps marginally mightier.”

And Alon—who grasped the Beast of Possibility's nature—

Sensed something similar.

The relic ought to summon the “user” from their mightiest era.

Put differently, Alon anticipated a Radan from a decade or two ahead.

Considering Radan's habit of amassing and perfecting artifacts, growth was certain.

But this Radan before him seemed scarcely aged or seasoned beyond the present.

“…Looks like there’s no point in waiting any longer.”

Sloth whispered, baring an unusual dismay under his indifference.

WHOOOOSH—!

And with that, he released his power.

BLEGH~!

The forces beyond the scorched zone retched and collapsed at once.

Overpowering violet mana surged outward swiftly.

CRICK—CRACKLE—!!

The motionless flesh piles stirred and lifted, animated like marionettes.

Just as hopelessness and shadow reclaimed the atmosphere—

“Ah—”

Radan, taking in the view, voiced a quiet epiphany.

“This is the past, isn’t it? Brother’s still here.”

Then he pivoted, spotting Alon, and nodded with full comprehension.

“Then what I need to do is stop this guy, right?”

He jabbed a finger at Sloth to affirm.

As though it were trivial.

Serenely.

With an unsettling air of removal.

“You think you can stop me?”

Sloth replied in a drawl.

As if mocking it held no amusement, utterly detached.

And hearing that, Radan abruptly fixed him with a vacant stare—

[Ah—]

Then grinned, as though it all clicked.

[Arise, my apostles.]

Those words followed.

CRACK—!!!

The swelling flesh heaps burst open abruptly.

Or rather, fragmented.

It resembled transformation.

Like a chrysalis splitting to birth a butterfly.

And at last, from the depths—

■—!!!]

A colossal white form arose.

Vast beyond human scale, yet faintly humanoid.

Its frame gaunt and eerie, akin to a famished predator.

A flawless ivory entity.

The instant Alon beheld it, clarity struck.

No—he hadn't considered it before.

He'd presumed Radan's power stemmed from artifacts.

For the Radan he recalled had advanced that way.

But that was this timeline's Radan—one Alon had rescued.

The true Radan—the sin's host—was fated to tangle with sins regardless.

In essence, across myriad alternate realms, Radan's peak self—

Wasn't the artifact virtuoso pushed to extremes.

Nor the adept handler of rare abilities.

Nor the one gripped by Jealousy.

The ultimate Radan spanning every timeline—

Was this.

The ivory figures started populating the ground.

Simultaneously, Radan's look began to shift.

He absorbed the summoned sin—

His azure armor bled into scarlet.

“You asked if I could stop you?”

His azure locks darkened to ebony.

His azure gaze burned with unnatural red.

“Of course I can~”

And for the first time, disbelief widened Sloth's eyes.

Radan locked eyes and declared—

“I’ve already devoured one.”

He curled his mouth into a savage smile.

“Monsters like you.”

—Radan had transformed into a sin.