Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 344 : ???? Years Old (3)

Two weeks had passed since Alon made his way back to the Marquis Palatio’s manor.

In that period, Alon savored a genuinely relaxing vacation.

Naturally, he didn’t simply idle away the days.

He spent the majority of his hours clashing in spars with Kylrus and delving into magical studies, yet it never wore him down.

To Alon, exploring magic felt as instinctive as inhaling air.

Maybe this stemmed from his persistent dedication.

“You’ve certainly progressed.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. You’re not quite there yet, no doubt, but managing to hold your own against me speaks volumes.”

Lately, Kylrus had begun recognizing Alon’s abilities to a certain extent.

“At least you’re advancing. Don’t let one praise go to your head. You remain deficient, particularly in terms of bodily agility.”

Kylrus suggested that Alon keep training in the techniques he’d shown him, and Alon inquired as though he’d anticipated the moment.

“I’ve long been curious—why does bodily motion matter so much for a sorcerer?”

Kylrus eyed Alon briefly, then shook his head like the query was lamentable.

“Don’t pose such basic questions. Up to now, you’ve had allies to support you, so your incantations faced no limits. But suppose you faced a foe by yourself?”

“Uh—”

As Alon faltered, Kylrus tsked softly.

“Keep this in mind: for any spellcaster, be it wizard or grand archmage, evading foes’ assaults through movement is vital. If you just parry or ward off blows like you currently do, your endurance will falter quickly.”

Those remarks struck Alon deeply.

“…Oh.”

Right then, Alon snapped back to the present.

Once he shoved the tome of past recollections off his table—

“My lord.”

“Evan…?”

He jumped a bit upon spotting Evan enter.

His locks were disheveled, like he’d tumbled across the dirt.

“Did you return from a stroll or similar?”

“A mere stroll wouldn’t mess me up like this, my lord.”

“Then what occurred?”

To Alon’s query, Evan breathed a heavy sigh and gestured toward the window.

Alon instinctively traced his line of sight.

“Let go.”

“You let go.”

“I said let go.”

“Alright, we both release after three seconds.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“I told you to let go!”

“You didn’t release first.”

“If not for Chief, I would’ve—”

Outside, Seolrang and Ryanga gripped each other’s tresses fiercely.

Their gazes blazed with intense animosity.

“…Why are they acting that way?”

“I have no idea. I attempted to intervene briefly, and suddenly I was pulled in…”

“So you tumbled through the woods or such?”

“Precisely. I ended up getting hurled aside.”

Mumbling under his breath, Evan released a prolonged sigh.

“Well, the rest appear to be faring okay.”

“The rest?”

“Yes. Considering they’ve only known one another for a week, Deus and Nangwon are bonding remarkably well.”

“That’s positive news.”

Alon dipped his head in satisfaction.

He hadn’t planned it that way, nor fretted excessively over it, but inwardly he’d pondered if they’d mesh.

Those whom Alon rescued often proved quirky in various respects, good or bad.

“Thanks to that, it looks like your monument is set to upgrade, my lord.”

“…What?”

“I learned Deus is enhancing it somewhat, with Nangwon’s assistance.”

Alon directed his eyes to the enormous sculpture positioned at the territory’s center.

A figure posed like a northern tribal leader.

“…That’s turning into an MK2…?”

No matter how he pondered it, only discomfort filled him.

He regarded the monument with concern, though just briefly.

“And there as well, they seem cordial enough outwardly.”

“There?”

Trailing Evan’s pointing finger, Alon observed Yutia, Magrina, Rine, and Historia sharing tea.

They offered subtle smiles, their expressions serene and restrained during talk.

Meanwhile, Historia alone maintained a vacant look, quietly drinking her tea while observing the others.

“…It resembles a gathering of scheming elites more than anything.”

“That’s my point. They only appear amicable superficially.”

“No, they don’t even seem that cordial.”

Evan lifted his shoulders, then rubbed his jaw as a thought struck him.

“On second thought, it’s odd.”

“What’s odd?”

“With six individuals, it’s typically tough to view them all from one pane, right?”

“Hmm… yes.”

As Evan noted, it was rare to catch sight of every one of the six from their spot.

It piqued his curiosity.

As Alon nodded, he abruptly spotted a faint hesitation in their actions outdoors.

“Regardless, my lord, that’s not my purpose here. I carry two updates. Which do you prefer first?”

Alon redirected his attention to Evan.

When he glanced out the window once more, it appeared he’d fancied it—those outside resumed normal motion.

With a slight furrow of confusion, he fully faced Evan.

“What’s the matter?”

“Updates on Eliban and the Magic Tower.”

“Begin with Eliban.”

“Reports indicate Eliban managed to seal every Rift across Ashtalon.”

“...Every single Rift?”

“Affirmative. Consequently, Eliban’s reputation these days is formidable.”

Alon found himself mildly astonished.

Essentially, in Psychedelia, players advance by sealing Rifts and leverage that advancement against Sin, however—

He’d never succeeded in sealing all Rifts within one zone during gameplay.

No, to be precise, it was unattainable.

Regardless of how players prioritized sealing, fresh Rifts emerged quicker than eradicating them from any locale.

Yet he accomplished it.

Thus, it’s feasible in reality, Alon thought afresh, nodding inwardly.

“Indeed, Eliban appeared immensely renowned.”

“That’s unavoidable. For years, he’s sealed vast quantities of Rifts without seeking recompense, and he confronted the Outer Gods as well.”

“...Eh? Hold on, he handled Outer Gods too?”

As Alon questioned, Evan affirmed with a nod.

“Correct. Eliban faced Outer Gods just prior to the latest chaos, keeping rumors subdued, but the tally stands at four.”

Or perhaps five? Evan appended.

At that, Alon sensed a missing element fitting perfectly, his thoughts settling.

That explains the absence of Outer Gods thus far.

Outer Gods had lingered in his mind persistently.

Post-Sin’s emergence, Outer Gods appearing follows a predictable sequence.

Nevertheless, two factors kept his concern minimal until lately.

Primarily, an Outer God’s advent would relay info to him somehow.

The secondary was a feeling of detachment.

By this point, the world diverged from the Psychedelia Alon recalled.

In any event, considering that—

He hadn’t escalated it to a major concern, though admitting no occasional nagging thought would be false.

Now, with this minor uncertainty cleared, Alon nodded.

“In light of everything, Eliban’s acclaim likely surpasses yours, my lord. Folks are dubbing him ‘Eliban the Savior.’”

“I guess I’ve overlooked the gossip somewhat.”

“Well, you prioritize info that truly interests you, my lord.”

Evan uttered a gentle ah, then continued:

“Oh, and recently Eliban’s uttered something peculiar.”

“What’s that?”

“He mentions it abruptly, leaving folks baffled. From what I gathered… ‘Only a god can claim my life.’”

After pondering shortly, Alon responded.

“Doesn’t that signify his might metaphorically? As in, ‘No god, no killing me.’”

“Most interpret it thus, but its suddenness has amplified the buzz.”

While Alon rubbed his chin contemplatively, Evan proceeded.

“Now, regarding the Magic Tower.”

“Yes, you mentioned Magic Tower developments too. What transpired?”

“An event unfolded.”

“A negative one?”

“...Well, one positive and one unclear.”

“The positive first.”

“They cracked a Second-Order spell’s code.”

“That’s excellent news. What’s the unclear aspect?”

“They insist you visit the Tower, my lord. They desire your personal inspection.”

“Visit and inspect myself?”

“Yes. Heinkel conveyed that.”

Though bemused, Alon agreed.

Regardless, with a Second-Order spell decoded, a trip was necessary.

Thus he agreed, but only momentarily.

“Is that your full report?”

“Essentially… Ah, one additional item.”

Evan cleared his throat.

“What is it?”

“Within a week, the partner prospects will be finalized.”

“Already? Quicker than anticipated.”

“Ahem. Per Alexion, the ladies replied swifter than foreseen.”

“I see. Still, I haven’t heard of any arrivals.”

Alon cocked his head.

“Perhaps they conducted brief interviews and departed promptly.”

“Possibly.”

“In any case, you’ll decide then.”

As Evan downplayed it—

“Understood.”

Alon merely nodded.

***

“Hoo—”

Miren, a Caliban noble and daughter to the Duke of Padrima, let out a gentle breath while eyeing Marquis Palatio’s distant manor.

As the duke’s heir, she’d encountered myriad aristocrats, yet this tension was unprecedented.

She arrived for a partner interview with Marquis Palatio.

Admittedly, some might deem fussing over a marquis’s partner interview excessive.

But that holds only for average marquises.

When the counterpart is Marquis Palatio—

The narrative shifts dramatically.

Marquis Palatio.

Head of Kalpha, Asteria’s premier faction, bearing endless titles—

A figure wielding immense authority.

He might lag in matrimonial matters for a gentleman, but that scarcely fazed Miren.

Initially, her aim was the marquis’s influence and riches.

“All those unanswered missives—finally bearing fruit.”

Grinning, Miren inwardly commended her former persistence in dispatching letters amid silence.

Without relentless pursuit, this opportunity wouldn’t have arisen.

“Hoo—”

She composed herself via deep inhalation, fleetingly musing on her hidden scheme.

“Lady Miren, we’ve reached our destination.”

She halted her reflections, restored her smile, alighted elegantly from the coach, and proceeded to the interview chamber.

“Welcome, Lady Padrima.”

“Greetings, Sir Alexion. As noted in my correspondence, I’m deeply grateful for this chance.”

She initiated the interview with a genial smile at Alexion.

Some thirty minutes elapsed in a thoroughly agreeable setting.

Owing to the Padrima house’s distinctive political stance, she’d navigated treacherous courts since youth. Thus, embodying the “ideal lady” Alexion sought proved effortless.

“This suffices.”

“Oh dear, truly?”

“Yes. Many thanks for your application. If it suits, would you consider lingering a few days?”

“Should you permit it, I gladly accept.”

At Alexion’s politeness, the lady opted to remain at the marquis’s residence for a day.

In truth, her hasty journey had induced travel weariness.

Shortly, led by a retainer, she accessed a grand villa adjacent to the marquis’s grounds.

“Then, summon if required—”

“Noted.”

After verifying the servant’s bow and exit, shortly after—

“Lady Miren.”

“The staff?”

“I sent them away. Precautionarily, I deployed an artifact triggering a concealment incantation to block any spying. Sound won’t escape.”

“Your caution is appreciated.”

“No trouble.”

The attendant curtsied and departed with, “Call upon me as needed.”

Miren observed her exit approvingly.

Upon noting dusk tinting the heavens, she channeled mana into a crystal sphere the attendant had set.

And—

[ Miren. ]

Viewing the Duke of Padrima via the crystal, she inclined her head deferentially.

“I hope you’re faring well, Father.”

[ I am. How went today? ]

“No cause for concern—it proceeded smoothly.”

[ Relieved to hear. ]

“As I’ve assured repeatedly, nothing to fret over.”

To Miren’s airy, chuckling voice, the duke sighed reflectively before stating:

[ My concern isn’t you. It’s— ]

“The rival applicants, yes?”

[ Precisely. Some are unknowns, but my discreet intel reveals several rivals as quite capable. ]

A gloom shadowed the duke’s visage.

Yet to his apprehension—

“I’m aware. You mentioned it, Father. But truly, no need to fret.”

She displayed a bright grin—no,

“I recognize the competitors’ strength. Yet ultimately, this isn’t a power struggle. Marquis Palatio won’t be swayed by might. Thus, what remains is—”

She sneered.

“A battle over who charms a man more deftly, right?”

[ …Correct. You’re the famed Flower of Caliban, after all. I doubt you’ll falter. ]

At his agreement, Miren veiled her mouth with a hand, her eyes sparkling in mirth.

“So cease excessive worry, Father. Capturing a tardily unwed marquis poses no challenge for me. Even if gradual, once I infiltrate his affections—”

All shall be ours, she whispered faintly, and caressed the “item” concealed in her bodice—

The exact element that, across recent years, bestowed her the moniker “Flower of Caliban.”

Her smile had imperceptibly chilled.

Still, one ignorance on her part—

Despite the concealment incantation, those utterances—

“How entertaining.”

“…Quite.”

“Hm—so a pest clings to Master.”

“Mm.”

“The audacity, such insolence…!”

—reached attentive ears.