Became the Patron of Villains Novel MTL - Chapter 120

Chapter 120

Parkline, the master of the Red Magic Tower, was a man who paid little mind to gossip. He considered delving into ancient mysteries a far more rewarding pursuit than engaging with idle talk.

This did not mean, however, that rumors failed to find him. In particular, the persistent whisper that ‘Marquis Palatio and Penia Crysinne are engaged in a close relationship, one even acknowledged by the Blue Magic Tower Master!’ reached him with regularity.

Ordinarily, given the nature of Parkline Argulus, such a rumor would have been dismissed no matter how often he encountered or confirmed it. Lately, though, he had found himself paying attention to the gossip concerning Marquis Palatio and Penia Crysinne, which he would typically disregard. The cause was—

“Hmm—”

—Celaime Mikardo.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself?”

“Do I? Well, if you perceive it that way, then it must be true.”

Celaime, who appeared utterly delighted, radiated exhilaration from his entire being. Parkline knew exactly when this wave of high spirits had begun.

‘It was after the rumor about Marquis Palatio started circulating.’

Indeed, from that point on, Celaime, just before his lectures, always had a smile on his face and a cheerful hum on his lips, his steps light and bouncy. At times, he seemed so pleased that he moved with a sway, as if he had traded away the weighty authority of a Magic Tower Master for a song.

The precise reason for his conduct was unknown, but an educated guess was feasible. While Celaime Mikardo might appear unapproachable at first, he was a man of simple motivations.

A single factor governed his moods: magic. He was elated when he unraveled a magical conundrum, and displeased when his arcane endeavors faltered. Other occurrences? Celaime rarely displayed any strong feelings about matters outside of magic. Whether his Magic Tower collapsed overnight or the deputy of the Blue Magic Tower arrived in a murderous fury, Celaime showed scant emotional reaction—unless it pertained to magic.

In any case. Parkline was well aware of Celaime’s recent efforts to find a path to ascend from the 8th to the 9th tier, so deducing the source of his excitement was straightforward.

‘He must have discovered a clue to advance from the 8th to the 9th tier.’

And that clue most likely involved Marquis Palatio. Several factors supported this theory. First, Celaime, fundamentally detached and devoid of political or power-seeking ambition, cared only for magic; he would not be thrilled by the mere notion of Penia’s association with the Marquis. Second, it was due to Celaime’s recent conduct toward Marquis Palatio.

‘He has been treating him with the utmost deference.’

Finally, by combining the contents of the letter he had deciphered with the knowledge that Marquis Palatio had utilized primitive magic, the deduction became simple. It was easy to conclude that Marquis Palatio possessed the key for Celaime Mikardo to reach the 9th tier. From there, one could even wonder if the Marquis was the magician mentioned on the ancient parchment.

From the moment Celaime began attempting to suppress any conversation about the Marquis, Parkline had moved beyond mere suspicion to certainty. There was definitely something significant about Marquis Palatio. This was the very reason Parkline had been lending an ear to the rumors of late.

Naturally, he too was deeply interested in attaining the 9th tier. It was more than a casual interest; it was a profound desire. Not only him, but every master of a Magic Tower harbored a longing to reach the 9th tier. After all, each tower master had ascended to their position through a combination of insatiable curiosity, powerful ambition, and innate genius.

Therefore, “…Master of the Red Magic Tower.”

“It has been some time.”

To secure any potential advantage, Parkline was faster than anyone to seek out Alon, no matter what secrets might be concealed. If he inquired directly, there was surely something of value to be gained.

“That coat appears quite warm.”

“…This coat?”

“Indeed. But, the air is rather chilly now.”

“When it is hot, it is hot, and when it is cold, it is cold. Anyway— I wish to present you with a gift. Will you accept it?”

“…A gift?”

Parkline smoothly produced a dark blue coat from within his robes. It was similar in style to what Alon typically wore, but it was trimmed with black fur along the edges.

“It is an artifact coat of my own creation. It is enchanted with subspace magic, and the garment itself modifies the ambient mana array to assist with spellcasting.”

“…It is a very fine coat.”

“Yes. Furthermore, it contains a built-in artifact that, while subtle, maintains a consistent internal temperature. What is your opinion?”

“It is an excellent coat, but… why present it to me so suddenly?”

Parkline let out a hearty laugh in response to the Marquis’s toneless question.

“Well, my daughter has frequently been the recipient of your assistance, so consider it a token of my gratitude.”

“…Then I will accept it with thanks.”

“Good, please inform me if you require anything further.”

“I appreciate your generosity.”

“Yes. Liyan also sends her greetings.”

Although the coat was valuable, for a Magic Tower Master of his standing, producing several was no great burden. His skilled labor could easily manufacture as many as necessary. In essence, Parkline had given Alon a gift that was cost-effective for him. At that very moment.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“?”

“?”

Celaime Mikardo, who had vanished right after the lecture, suddenly reappeared wearing a distinctly troubled expression. And then.

“Marquis, he didn’t by any chance mention introducing you to his daughter, did he?”

“What?”

“If he did, it’s undoubtedly about Penia.”

He spoke immediately, without pausing to properly consider his words. Hearing this, Parkline let out a laugh of disbelief, unintentionally solidifying his conviction further.

‘…So the Marquis truly does possess something…!?’

Clearly, he did not believe the Marquis had said anything out of concern for Penia. While Parkline felt a peculiar satisfaction from this newfound certainty, “Mind your words, Celaime. There is a limit to my tolerance.”

He issued a warning. The clue to the 9th tier was immensely precious to him, but that did not mean he planned to offer his cherished daughter to some dour individual, even if it meant throwing himself into a pit of fiery magma. However, separate from that, “Marquis, I shall offer you something even superior. This is the potion I have acquired for you on this occasion—”

“Count, I have just recalled there is something I have yet to give you.”

With these words from Celaime, a peculiar competition had inadvertently commenced.

***

In recent days, Alon had been exceptionally occupied. More specifically, his evenings were particularly demanding due to the necessity of meeting with Heinkel. The reason was an event near the Central Tower that offered a unique opportunity to enhance one’s magical power. In the game, it had involved solving simple magical diagrams; if one’s intelligence met a certain threshold, a click of the mouse would grant the magic power.

Alon, who went to the Lake’s Labyrinth for this purpose, was taken aback by the unexpectedly difficult magical challenges. To be more precise, the magic involved was elementary, and it was more accurate to say he was solving the intricate puzzles of the labyrinth itself. Consequently, for over four days, Alon set aside his search for Heinkel and visited the labyrinth each night to work on the puzzles. During the day, he wandered the magic tower, contemplating solutions in his notebook.

Ideally, he would have preferred to address the rumor that had spread a few days earlier due to Penia’s boldness(?), but unfortunately, that was also impossible. Ironically, the reason was Penia herself. Latching onto him as if she had consumed some strange substance, she had recently been avoiding his sight. Moreover, the last time he saw Penia from a distance, he observed her emitting a bizarre shriek, ‘Woogaahh!’, before leaping from a window on the 18th floor.

Alon resolved to concentrate on solving the puzzle until the conference concluded. That was his plan, until this new situation developed. Alon looked forward. Before him, the two magic tower masters were piling gifts atop a book as if performing a circus act. Now, he could no longer see what was in front of him.

‘It is not that I dislike gifts……………’

Absently lifting his gaze, he saw a mountain of presents that had grown as tall as he was.

Every single one was a fine item.

Even the coat Parkline had given him first was a highly attractive artifact.

It certainly should be, “Marquis! Look at this, this is precisely-“

“Marquis. This artifact, you see!?”

Alon was suddenly struck by a powerful craving for sweet potatoes.

***

Many nobles had assembled at the ball hosted by the Komalon Ducal House. They mingled within the opulently decorated hall, and among them was Duke Edgar, arguably the most influential noble in the current Ashtalon Kingdom.

“Duke Komalon, it has been a long time.”

“It has been a long time indeed, Duke Edgar.”

He greeted the host of the ball, Duke Komalon.

“I always feel as though you haven’t aged a day, exactly as you were in the past.”

“That is a kind thing to say.”

“A kind thing? I am being entirely sincere.”

As the leader of a faction, he often spoke in ambiguous terms, but on this occasion, he was completely genuine. The face of a young man untouched by the passage of years. At least to Duke Edgar, Duke Komalon seemed largely unchanged from a decade ago, still retaining the youthfulness of a man in his mid-twenties, unlike Edgar himself, who had acquired more wrinkles.

What manner of trickery could achieve this—

Just as Duke Edgar was pondering this question.

“Duke Edgar.”

“Yes?”

“First of all, allow me to thank you for gathering here.”

Duke Komalon suddenly offered this greeting.

“Hmm…? Well, is there truly a need for thanks?”

“No, I am genuinely grateful.”

“Why?”

Duke Edgar responded with perplexity. Typically for nobles, the number of attendees at their hosted balls was a demonstration of their influence, so expressing gratitude was not unusual.

In other words, the greeting itself was not odd. However, it is only not strange when offered as a one-time courtesy.

To repeat such thanks in this manner was peculiar. As suspicion began to stir within him, Duke Edgar saw it.

A hand gesture from Duke Komalon. Seeing him form a seal with his index and middle fingers, Duke Edgar tilted his head in confusion.

“It is because you have all gathered here like this that I am saved a great deal of trouble.”

“What?”

His expression darkened instinctively, and in the next instant.

“Vexation.”

As Duke Komalon’s voice spoke the word,

Pop!

Duke Edgar’s head burst apart.

And not only his.

The head of a young lady who had been smiling just moments before.

A knight standing guard over other nobles.

A noble enjoying tea at one side of the ball.

The heads of every living being present at the ball exploded simultaneously.

Then,

In the center of the ballroom, now decorated with splashes of crimson blood,

Thump!

Duke Komalon, calmly brushing the blood from his hair, walked toward the ballroom door with an unperturbed expression.

“Let us begin.”

He gave the signal to start to a Dark Elf waiting in the shadows.

“Yes.”

The commencement of a grand design.

A salvation awaited for hundreds of years.

***

Two days later,

After he had fully solved the puzzle within the labyrinth,

“An Outer God has descended?”

Alon received this news from Deus.