Became the Patron of Villains Novel MTL - Chapter 160

Chapter 160
Alon had suspected that Eliban might possess greater power than he had initially assumed.

When Ulthultus first emerged in the northern territories, he had encountered Eliban several years ahead of schedule, furnishing him with numerous resources to accelerate his development.

The artifacts Alon had provided to Eliban back then were exceptionally rare, so it was logical that his progress would outpace the norm.

But—

‘…This clearly doesn’t resemble someone at level 10.’
The extent of his power was vastly beyond what Alon had pictured.

He looked down at the shattered living armors lying at Eliban’s feet.

Living armors were a type of monster that warriors found especially difficult to handle, even if mages or clerics could manage them.

Their defining trait was that they wouldn’t cease moving simply because their armor was damaged.

The armor that formed their body had to be utterly demolished to halt them.

For this reason, most players who trained Eliban as a warrior would assign Yan to manage the fights in the Ironblood Citadel and use other characters as protective shields to clear the zone.

By design, this encounter should have proceeded in a similar way. Yet, Eliban had personally obliterated a great number of the living armors on his own.

“Ah.”

Eliban released a quiet sound, as if only now becoming aware of the situation.

Alon instinctively started to calculate his possible level.

‘…Is he level 30? No, if he’s wiping out hundreds with one strike, maybe level 40? …Given Eliban’s innate talent and divine blessings, that would be plausible. He probably hasn’t attained Sword Master yet, so level 50 is likely still out of reach.’
While Alon was lost in thought—

Eliban, who had rushed away, came back wearing his usual bright, cheerful smile.

“Are you alright?”

“I am fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“…You are remarkably powerful. With strength like this, was my assistance even required?”

When Alon gestured toward the demolished living armors, Eliban rubbed the back of his head.

“I heard it could still be risky.”

“…To be ready for a worst-case scenario?”

“Yes, that’s it. Now, let’s keep going!”

Without allowing time for more questions, Eliban started leading the way through the living armors.

“…Hmm.”

Alon’s expression turned curious.

Something felt slightly off.

‘If he is truly this powerful, he shouldn’t have been so concerned.’
If Eliban were the sort to value safety above everything, it might make sense, but he hadn’t shown that kind of behavior before.

After thinking it over, Alon chose to continue following him.

They still had objectives to accomplish inside the Ironblood Citadel.

Then, he suddenly became aware that Eliban’s companions had frozen in place, completely motionless.

“?”

Once again, Alon was filled with confusion.

Every member of Eliban’s group appeared…

‘…Deeply stunned?’
Each of them stood with their jaws hanging open, as if they were about to drop.

***

The Strange Gate offered many valuable treasures.

Although the background story loosely connected it to the five deadly sins, within the game, the Strange Gate functioned as a supply of weapons and artifacts for players—Eliban’s group being no exception.

Specifically, inside the Ironblood Citadel they had entered, there were many items suited for Eliban, who began as a warrior. However, gaining them usually demanded considerable time and work.

If the protagonist didn’t spend time leveling up through grinding in Lartania right after the game began, they would typically arrive at the Ironblood Citadel at around level 10.

At that stage, it would be nearly impossible to overcome the living armors.

Players had no choice but to draw the living armors into isolated chambers and eliminate them individually.

‘…Naturally, that step was unnecessary now.’
“Hm…”

Alon surveyed the hallways of the Ironblood Citadel, which they had been navigating for several hours.

Littered all around were the broken remnants of what had once been living armors.

They weren’t merely cut apart by a blade—they appeared as though they had been pulverized by hammers.

Alon quietly studied the devastation before shifting his attention to Eliban.

The man himself gave his characteristic sheepish laugh, seeming almost embarrassed.

Standing near Alon, Evan spoke in a hushed tone.

“Marquis.”

“Go on.”

“…To be honest, doesn’t it appear that he doesn’t require any aid?”

“I share your view.”

Although Eliban had asked for support, Alon had not found a single chance to cast a spell since stepping into the Ironblood Citadel.

Or, more accurately, he had attempted to cast spells—

‘Marquis! Are you alright?’

‘Marquis! Are you injured?’

‘Marquis!’

—but every time he started to channel a spell, Eliban would charge ahead and annihilate every living armor in sight.

It felt like excessively guarding a child who might be in danger near a pool.

“…”

Unsurprisingly, Alon found this problematic.

There were artifacts he needed to acquire in the Ironblood Citadel, and by actively supporting the party, he could later claim those items without reservation.

‘…Does he intend to keep everything for himself?’
For an instant, Alon considered the idea, but he promptly dismissed it.

Based on the game’s lore and Eliban’s actual behavior, he didn’t seem like that kind of person.

In fact, his nature aligned more with a classic heroic protagonist than a character from a dark fantasy.

“Marquis, are you alright?”

Before he knew it, Eliban had drawn near again.

Shaking off his reflections, Alon responded.

“…There’s no need for such concern. As you can observe, I am perfectly fine.”

“That’s correct.”

“Incidentally, you need not take every enemy upon yourself. I am also capable of handling them.”

“Ah, yes. I understand. It’s just become a habit, and it’s difficult to restrain myself.”

“A habit?”

“Yes, I can’t help but feel concerned.”

Finally, Alon started to grasp what was happening.

‘He can’t bear to see his allies harmed, can he?’
Considering Eliban’s personality, Alon found this explanation reasonable and nodded, but then another idea occurred to him.

“Even so, your companions looked utterly astonished when they saw you earlier.”

And it was an extreme level of surprise.

Eliban paused briefly, then scratched his cheek with an uneasy look.

“The truth is, I’ve been intentionally acting less powerful than I am.”

“…Acting less powerful?”

“Yes, the goddess suggested to me that my companions also need room to develop.”

“Ah.”

“So they were likely shocked because this is the first instance where I’ve displayed my true capabilities.”

“I understand.”

“Yes. In this situation, I ended up revealing more of my strength than usual because of that initial group of soldiers.”

“You may have overexerted yourself?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Alon gave another nod.

Now he comprehended why Eliban’s comrades had been so stunned earlier.

“That is also why I am always thankful to you, Marquis. Because of the support you gave me back then, I was able to grow this strong.”

“I am pleased I could be of assistance.”

Seeing how much Eliban had surpassed his expectations, Alon felt a touch of pride.

“But you can afford to relax. I don’t require that level of protection.”

“I will remember that!”

Eliban’s response was full of vigor.

‘Well, it’s of little consequence now, since only the boss monster is left.’
They were nearing the conclusion of the conflict.

And with just the boss monster remaining—

‘I ought to be able to finally use my magic.’
Holding that hope, Alon moved forward through the citadel’s corridors, illuminated by the soft purple light from the sky.

Soon, the party arrived at their ultimate goal.

What stood before them was—

Rumble!
A dark knight.

While other living armors consisted of separately floating pieces of armor, shoulder guards, and swords, this one was fully encased in jet-black plate armor.

It stood up from its position as if greeting the intruders, and—

Whoosh!
It swung an enormous sword that appeared immensely heavy just to look at.

Its dark cloak flowed with the motion.

‘Konkhan, the Ironblood’s Left Hand.’
The moment Alon saw it, he started weaving hand seals.

True to the nature of living armors, it recklessly charged at the first person to attack.

In that critical instant—

“Marquis—!”

Crash!
Eliban burst forward and shattered the knight’s head into fragments.

“Ah.”

“Ah.”

Both Alon, whose chance was taken from him, and Eliban, who recognized his error, uttered quiet, simultaneous sounds of dismay.

***

The elven territory of Greynifra, and the nation constructed above it, Fildagreen.

A report was presented to Queen Magrina, the ruler of the nation.

“…You’re telling me the entities emerging from the roots are multiplying?”

“Yes. Lately, their activity has been abnormally high.”

“Are their numbers too much for Paggade to manage?”

“No, not to that degree.”

The face of the Paggade knight delivering the update was marked by unease.

“However, as you are aware, this is a phenomenon that has persisted for almost a thousand years. It is manageable for the present, but we cannot predict what may occur later.”

A short silence followed.

“I see. For the time being, maintain close observation.”

“By your order.”

“Your hard work is acknowledged.”

After the knight departed, Magrina was deep in thought when an arrival was announced.

“Your Majesty, Perion and Philde are here.”

“…”

“…Allow them to enter.”

Setting her worries aside for the moment, she received her guests.

“We greet Her Majesty.”

“We greet Her Majesty.”

“…Welcome, Philde, Perion. But you both seem unwell. What has occurred?”

Could something have happened to Marquis Palatio?

Philde’s face was noticeably pale.

“I am alright, Your Majesty. More importantly, there is something I must report to you.”

“…Did you look into Marquis Palatio?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Though Magrina seemed unaware, her hand tightened almost imperceptibly.

After a moment of silence, Philde began to speak carefully.

“First, let me be clear. What I am about to say is primarily speculation. I did not converse directly with Marquis Palatio.”

“…So he is not the Primordial Elf, then.”

Her voice held a subtle trace of letdown.

But Philde, shaking her head decisively, stated—

“No.”

“…What?”

“Yes, it is my belief that Marquis Palatio is indeed the Primordial Elf. Which means—”

Like Magrina, Philde balled her hand into a tight fist.

“He is almost certainly Your Majesty’s older brother.”

“What did you say?”

Her eyes opened wide in astonishment at Philde’s firm declaration, which held not the slightest trace of jest.