Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 9

Kalia, the firstborn daughter of the Zenonia house, had just arrived at the family estate and made her way to the Count’s study. As she walked, her mind once again drifted to a man she had visualized countless times.

Alon Palatio. The man who had recently purged every one of his brothers within the Palatio house to seize the title of heir.

“…‘Famous,’ he called me.”

Kalia remembered the intensity in his gaze. Those eyes revealed nothing, resembling a frozen abyss beyond the northern borders, utterly detached from the world. Every time she replayed that look in her mind, a cold shiver ran down her skin.

In that moment, Kalia understood a fundamental truth: he was the same “kind” of person as she was.

Normally, Kalia would have dismissed him the moment he declined her offer of partnership. 

A rejection of her proposal meant they could never be allies, which effectively turned them into rivals.

Yet, Kalia remained fixated on him, all because of those specific words he had uttered.

“…He said I was ‘Famous.’”

The Zenonia name is certainly prestigious. Even without direct political involvement, the sheer wealth and military might the Zenonia family commanded were enough to destabilize the entire kingdom if they so desired.

However, that reputation belonged to the Count of Zenonia himself, not the family as a whole, and certainly not to Kalia personally.

Yet Alon had spoken of it.

He had identified her with such precision.

In a society where most nobles didn't even know her face—since she had only appeared at two balls—he had called her famous.

He wasn't referring to the Count of Zenonia; he was referring to her.

In reality, Alon had said it casually, merely remembering her reputation as a villainess from the original story’s timeline.

But to her, that comment was heavy with meaning.

“How fascinating.”

Kalia shifted her attention to the Count, who was seated within the study.

The Count was silently occupied with his paperwork.

His head remained lowered as if she didn't exist, his focus entirely consumed by his documents.

Click, click—

As Kalia approached him, the Count’s eyes instinctively rose to meet hers.

A pair of crimson eyes, identical to her own, stared back at her.

Though he remained silent, the Count appeared to be in peak physical health.

—Snap!

That lasted only until Kalia snapped her fingers.

The moment the sound rang out, the spark of intelligence vanished from the Count’s eyes.

The gaze that had been sharp just seconds ago became vacant and hollow, like that of a fool. His mouth fell open, and a string of drool began to leak out.

It was clear the Count was no longer in a normal state of mind.

Kalia whispered as she looked down at "him."

“How did he find out? No one was supposed to know.”

Kalia’s face was twisted with curiosity as she thought of Alon. He had spoken as if he were aware of the secret she had guarded since the day she turned her father into a mindless puppet.

“Or was he simply taking a lucky guess?”

Harboring these suspicions, Kalia exited the study where she had maintained this charade for the last five years.

“K-Kalia, my lady!”

“What is the matter?”

“T-There is a dead body in your chambers…!!”

Startled by the servant's cry, Kalia hurried to her room.

And there—

“Hah…”

She saw the sight.

The spy she had assigned to tail Alon two weeks ago was dead. His neck had been snapped and twisted twice; his eyes were wide with a lingering terror, unable to find rest even in death.

“The seal remained intact, so it appears he didn't leak any information.”

This was the assessment provided by one of her knights.

Reflecting on the situation, Kalia sighed.

Her doubts had solidified into a firm belief.

“…It seems he uncovered a major weakness of mine the moment we met.”

She whispered, a small smile forming on her lips.

***

Evan scowled as he observed the golems, which were glowing with a sinister red light in the pitch-black night.

Having survived as a mercenary for over fifteen years, his eyes shifted rapidly, searching for the golems’ vulnerabilities, yet he couldn't suppress his growing dread.

He trusted his own combat prowess, but that experience only made him more wary of the unknown creatures standing before them.

He knew better than anyone how lethal an unfamiliar threat could be.

Furthermore, he currently had a charge to protect.

Engaging unknown enemies with mysterious capabilities was the absolute worst scenario.

To make matters worse, there were easily more than twenty of them. As Evan debated his next move,

“I will take care of this.”

“What…?”

He blinked in surprise at the sudden voice, watching as Alon stepped past him without warning.

Alon’s expression was just as cold and indifferent as it had been when they first entered the labyrinth.

Evan was once again struck by how enigmatic his master was.

He was truly baffled by how Alon could remain so calm in such a dire situation.

From Evan’s perspective, they were facing a massive crisis.

Before them stood over twenty humanoid golems that needed to be destroyed, and it was obvious that each one possessed significant power.

Yet, Alon had stepped forward, claiming he would handle them alone.

Truthfully, Evan harbored doubts that Alon could actually defeat them.

Evan was aware that Alon was gifted and had a knack for magic.

He had reached the 2nd Rank as a magician through sheer self-study, which was an impressive feat.

However, while that was remarkable by normal standards, it didn't mean it was sufficient for this level of danger.

Even if he reached the 2nd Rank at a young age, a single one of these golems would usually be too much for a magician of that level to handle.

Thud!

Just as those thoughts crossed Evan's mind, the golems—which had been motionless—suddenly lunged toward Alon.

Then,

“I enact the Constraint.”

Alon’s voice rang out like a divine decree.

***

As Alon spoke the words, the world appeared to freeze.

His surroundings bled into shades of black and white, and the charging golems slowed down as if they were being viewed through a high-speed lens.

And then—

[Fragment carrying the great will of Niacula, declare the two Constraints you wish to bind yourself with.]

A thunderous voice that seemed to vibrate through the very fabric of space echoed in his head.

It sounded like a man and a woman, a child and an elder, all speaking at once.

Hearing it caused a bead of cold sweat to roll down Alon’s temple.

The artifact known as “Constraint” that Alon had retrieved from the Whispering Labyrinth functioned exactly as its name implied: it forced limitations on the wielder in exchange for power.

In the game, various menus would appear for the player to choose from.

A prompt would ask which penalties to accept and which buffs to receive.

However, reminding him that this was now his reality, there was no UI—only a voice.

A voice so powerful it made his vision swim and his pulse skyrocket, filling him with a primal fear that his heart might burst.

Taking a shaky breath, Alon steadied his nerves and spoke the conditions he had prepared.

“First.”

[Declare your constraint.]

“Every use of magic shall require the flawless execution of Babylonian hand signs.”

[What is the price you seek for this?]

“Power capable of slightly bending the laws of this world.”

[It is granted.]

“And a second.”

[Declare your constraint.]

“Every use of magic shall require the partial chanting of the great Babylonian incantations.”

[What is the price you seek for this?]

“The same as the first.”

[…]

After Alon finished, the voice went silent for a moment.

The slow-motion leg of a golem rose and began to descend toward the floor.

Alon wondered if his request had been rejected.

[I accept.]

As if to quiet his worries, the celestial voice spoke in agreement.

[To you, who still holds the knowledge of the hand signs and secrets of a forgotten god, I offer my thanks for carrying on the will.]

The voice whispered this final message to him.

“…?”

Alon looked genuinely confused.

Though his outer mask remained stoic, his eyes were filled with bewilderment.

In truth, Alon had no idea what the voice was talking about.

His reason for choosing Babylonian signs and chants was purely practical.

In the game, these two specific constraints provided the highest possible boost to magic attack power.

Furthermore, because he had used this build so many times, he had memorized the hand signs and incantations by heart.

He wasn't a genius who knew every single one by sight, but he wasn't worried.

Alon knew exactly where to find the records for the rest of the Babylonian signs and chants.

So, while the voice’s words were strange, Alon pushed the thought aside almost immediately.

[I shall be watching. You, who inherits the will.]

As the monochrome world began to regain its color, Alon realized that time had resumed its normal flow.

He raised his hand to test the new restrictions while watching the golems close the distance.

***

Simultaneously, Mana began to surge from Alon’s body, pumping through his heart and pooling at his fingertips.

The Mana gathered there was quite faint.

Even though he was exhausting his entire reserve, the orb of lightning—which should have been a brilliant sphere of light—was only a dim, flickering glow, like a candle about to go out.

However, Alon was neither shocked nor disappointed.

He was well aware of the meager limitations of the body belonging to Alon, the third son of Palatio.

Even so—

“Refraction.”

The moment he spoke the word, following the ritual,

“Rebound.”

The tiny orb warped into jagged, chaotic lines.

“Blue Light.”

With a sharp crackle, it erupted into a vivid cerulean glow. The single orb split into hundreds, then thousands of sparking filaments, creating a wild web of electricity.

The blue light was so piercingly cold it was painful to look at.

At that moment, Alon formed a hand sign.

His thumb pressed down on his middle finger.

It looked like he was about to flick someone’s forehead.

However, he rotated his wrist, shifting into a position that resembled a sacred dharma wheel gesture.

With that, he glared at the golem that had reached him and spoke the final word of power.

“Linear Diffraction.”

As the blue radiance tore through the shadows—

Snap!

He snapped his fingers, releasing a blinding flash.

—Fwoosh!

There was no explosion.

The only sound was a soft rush of air following the light. The golems stood frozen in the ravine, as if their very existence had been paused by the brilliant flash.

And then—

Crack—Crackle!

Dozens of golems disintegrated instantly, collapsing into harmless piles of gravel.

Evan, who had been charging forward to protect Alon, stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping.

“What kind of power is this…?”

He whispered, his voice thick with shock.