Became the Patron of Villains Novel MTL - Chapter 157

Chapter 157

Within the elven realm of Greynifra, Philde stood as the most powerful mage, endowed with an innate ability known as Soul Eyes, which granted her the power to perceive the spirits of all living things.

From the most insignificant insect to the most formidable entity.

If a thing possessed life, it naturally housed a soul, and she could perceive every one.

Yet, she had never considered this ability much of a boon.

For one, she was not a practitioner of necromancy or the dark arts that manipulated souls.

For another, she had never found souls to be particularly captivating.

While each soul was unique in minor ways, these distinctions were rarely remarkable enough to hold her interest.

A soul was merely a soul.

Admittedly, in her earliest youth, she had witnessed gods and foreign deities whose souls were extraordinary, but that was only to be expected of divine beings.

For common mortals, souls were largely indistinguishable.

This was why Philde had been so utterly taken aback upon seeing the soul of Marquis Palatio.

The reason was—

His soul bore a striking resemblance to the divine souls she had witnessed ages ago.

“……”

An ordinary soul manifested as a sphere of blue light, but his was pale and shimmered with threads of brilliant gold.

This was not something any mere human could possess.

A golden soul indicated one of two possibilities—a being approaching divinity, or a god itself.

And there was another detail that left her stunned.

‘…The soul is not a match.’

The soul of Marquis Palatio did not align with his physical form.

Philde had never encountered such a phenomenon before.

As she had explained to Perion, a soul is always a perfect fit for its vessel.

But the Marquis’s soul, while appearing to reside within the body, was fundamentally foreign to it.

In other words, the spirit inhabiting this flesh was not the one it was born with.

The moment this understanding dawned, a flood of questions overwhelmed Philde’s thoughts.

The first notion that echoed in her mind was—

Perion’s suggestion that Marquis Palatio could be the Primordial Elf.

‘…Is it actually possible?’

Until this moment, Philde had dismissed Perion’s theory.

She had come here more to escape the monotony of Greynifra than from any genuine belief that the marquis was the legendary elf.

Now, however, she was no longer certain.

The soul she perceived within the marquis shone more brilliantly than any other.

Like the fabled Primordial Elf, who had been revered as a deity.

A soul mismatched with its body.

As if it were proclaiming that another being now wore that flesh.

Philde stared at him, her thoughts whirling into a vortex of further uncertainty.

‘…But if he truly is the Primordial Elf, why would he conceal his identity?’

From Philde’s viewpoint, if Marquis Palatio was indeed the Primordial Elf, he had no reason to hide it.

Even if he now occupied a human form, proving his true nature should not have been a challenge.

Why?

Just as her bewilderment grew deeper—

She detected it.

A stirring movement behind Marquis Palatio.

Instinctively, her gaze snapped toward the disturbance.

And then—

It was gone.

As if it had never been there at all.

But Philde had caught the momentary warping of the air.

Resolved to identify what lurked behind the marquis, she activated her Soul Eyes once more, channeling the full skill of her high-ranking magical prowess.

And what she beheld—

“Ah…?”

A black void?

‘…No.’

It was not a void.

It was an eye.

A pupil so immense it consumed her entire sight—a chasmic eye.

And then.

[Be silent.]

A voice tore through her consciousness.

“Uuuaaagh—!!”

Philde coughed up a torrent of blood.

“!? Lady Philde!”

Perion, horrified, lunged forward to hold her up.

But the bleeding did not cease.

It poured not just from her mouth, but from her eyes, nostrils, and ears as well.

The penalty for witnessing what no mortal should ever see.

“L-Lady Philde, hold on!”

Perion frantically tried to keep her conscious.

But Philde, still gagging on her own blood, fell into the scarlet pool spreading beneath her.

As she hovered at the edge of blackness—

A realization came to her.

The reason the Primordial Elf never came back to Greynifra.

‘If… that entity… were to approach the World Tree…’

Philde remembered the thing she had seen for only a split second.

She did not know what it was.

She understood not even a fraction of its true essence.

And she knew—she must not seek to understand.

But one absolute certainty had been branded into her awareness.

‘Under no condition… must that entity ever draw near the World Tree…!’

Her intuition screamed with more urgency than ever before.

Even more than the entities imprisoned below the roots of Paggade, this thing was infinitely more dreadful.

Simultaneously, another understanding struck her.

‘The Primordial Elf had perished in battle against the black entities.’

As fragments of ancient memory surfaced, her mind began piecing together the true events of the past.

And then—

“Pe… Perion.”
“Yes…!”
“It appears… what you said…”

Philde swallowed hard, the words difficult to form.
“…may be correct.”

“…You mean—”

“…That man…”

Philde confirmed it to Perion.
“He may indeed be the Primordial Elf.”
“!!”

Perion’s eyes widened in utter shock.

***

Elsewhere.

“Should I aim left? Or right? Here? Here! Go on! Go on!”

[Just strike already, you fool!]
“Left? Right? Here it comes!”

Whack!

[Gyaaaaah!!]
“Ahaha! That was spot on!”

[Again! Do it again!!!]

Alon watched Evan, who was laughing maniacally as he swung his hand—now covered by his black companion—down onto Basiliora’s head.

And Basiliora, who had taken the game as a challenge, was now furiously demanding another turn.

‘…I can’t believe they’re deriving so much amusement from a simple game of hand-chop…’

Shaking his head, Alon was once again perplexed by their endless vitality.

Two weeks later, precisely one month after Alon’s return to the marquisate—

“…Hah.”
“You’ve done well, Marquis.”

As Alon dispelled the magical formula, Penia spoke from beside him.
“How did it go this time?”
“Hmm… I believe I’ve progressed to about the fourth stage.”
“That is encouraging.”
“But beyond the fifth stage, the density becomes excessive and the molecular arrangement fails. Continuing like this, your initial design may prove unworkable.”
“Is there no way to solve it?”
“…I think we either need to invest significantly more mana, or we must recalibrate the density.”
“Let us attempt it once more.”

After a short rest, Alon readjusted his stance and prepared to continue.

For the past month, he had been deeply immersed in the study of magical seals with Penia.

Their primary focus was the structural transformations and molecular configurations resulting from layered seals.

The more precisely the seals were stacked, the more intricate and innovative the resulting formations became.

Though he had not yet achieved success, he had even uncovered a technique to alter a spell’s molecular composition to mimic another, thereby dramatically increasing its potency.

His magical research was advancing quite fruitfully.

“Ah, we nearly had it that time.”
“Did we?”
“Yes, the structure was only a fraction off, causing the failure.”
“Let us end here for today.”
“Understood.”

With the day’s training complete, Alon immediately picked up a sweet potato and took a bite.
“Do you truly enjoy sweet potatoes so much, Marquis?”
Penia inquired cautiously.

Alon gave a nod.
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
“Don’t you ever grow weary of them?”
“Hmm, I don’t believe so.”

To be honest, even Alon didn’t fully comprehend why he never grew tired of eating sweet potatoes, regardless of the quantity.

Normally, anyone would be sick of a food after this much…

He studied the sweet potato in his hand with a puzzled expression.

‘…Perhaps it’s simply because Yutia provided them. They do seem to taste better this way.’

He recalled how Yutia had visited Penia during his absence a month ago and left these sweet potatoes behind.

With that memory in mind, he finished his mouthful.

Upon returning to his office, Alon gave a pat to Blackie, who was fast asleep on his desk, before taking his own seat.
“Marquis.”
“What is it?”

Evan entered the room right behind him.
“The Royal Grand Ball is in two months. Do you plan to attend?”
“Is it already that time of year?”
“Yes.”

After a brief moment of thought, Alon nodded.
“I suppose it would be improper to decline again. I will attend this time.”
“I will handle the preparations then. Ah, that’s right—weren’t you intending to travel somewhere soon?”
“Yes, I’ll be departing shortly.”

The moment had finally arrived.

By now, the introductory phase should be concluding, and all the primary party members ought to have assembled. This was the ideal time to integrate himself naturally into Eliban’s group.

Alon looked out the window.

The season was slowly transitioning from spring’s warmth to summer’s heat.

Using the shifting weather to roughly gauge the protagonist’s current progress in the story, Alon plotted his next move.

‘Very well. Time to acquire that artifact.’

His decision made, exactly one day later—
“Marquis, a guest has arrived.”
“A nobleman?”
“No, he gave his name as Eliban.”
“…Eliban?”
“Yes. He specifically asked to meet with you.”
“??”

Eliban, the central hero of Psychedelia—had arrived.

Of his own volition.

***

Across the Raksas Sea, on the peninsula.
“That concludes my report.”
“I understand. So that is all the necessary information?”
“Yes.”

As Yuna finished her briefing, Radan began to stand when—
“Ah, there is one more thing I must mention.”
“Hm?”

Her words made him pause in confusion.
“Something you failed to report?”
“No, not exactly… It is more of a personal matter.”
“…What is it?”
“It concerns the Great Moon.”
“…Is someone speaking disrespectfully of the Great Moon?”

At the mere mention of that name, Radan’s hand shot out to grasp the trident at his side.

His body tensed as if ready to charge into battle, but Yuna quickly reassured him.
“No, nothing of that nature.”
“Then what is it?”
“Well—”

Now that she had to voice it, Yuna struggled to find the right phrasing.

‘The Great Moon was… sulking—no, feeling neglected?’

She couldn’t articulate it perfectly, but since she had broached the subject, she decided to be straightforward.

And so, she explained about the Great Moon’s birthday.
“…His birthday?”
“Yes. While the Great Moon showed no outward reaction, and thus may not care… Evan mentioned it, so I thought—”
“Hmm.”

Radan drummed his fingers on the desk thoughtfully before breaking into a wide grin.
“Very well. What is the date?”
“September 20th… or so I was informed.”
“That is four months from now?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”

Radan rose to his feet at once.
“? Where are you going?”

Pausing briefly, he replied.
“What do you think? I must seek out a gift worthy of the Great Moon.”
“A gift… worthy of the Great Moon?”
“Indeed. And I know precisely what it shall be.”

With energetic steps, he departed the office.

***

Meanwhile, after learning of this from Yuna, Hidan relayed the information to Deus.
“I see.”
“Yes.”
“…Very well, I have decided.”
“Regarding the gift?”
“Yes. I shall present the Great Moon with a magnificent statue.”
“…That will be enormously costly.”
“I will simply appropriate the funds from the Second Prince.”

Deus, with an entirely solemn expression, began uttering absurdities of the highest order.

And blatantly obvious absurdities at that.
“You don’t merely desire the statue for yourself, do you?”
“From the beginning, it was you who informed Yutia of my previous statue, which then— No, forget I said that.”

Mid-sentence, Deus abruptly averted his eyes.

Following his gaze, Hidan turned as well.

And he understood.

Deus was looking at the empty space where his former statue once stood.
“……”

Hidan was speechless.

Just how deep does his obsession with statues run…?