Raising Villains the Right Way Novel - Chapter 169

Chapter 169
Rine’s gaze fixed on what lay ahead.

The landscape before her seemed profoundly unfamiliar.

A realm where all things were clouded and indistinct.

Yet, in the midst of that world, one point of warm light persisted—a modest cabin.

The instant she saw the hut, Rine understood she was dreaming.

For more than a decade, this dream had revisited her without fail.

A brief wish surfaced: I don’t want to go inside.

She had experienced this same vision hundreds of times.

Knowing precisely what the hut contained, she felt no desire to enter.

Still, she moved forward.

Unless she stepped inside, the dream would not release her.

Without a sound, she took one step, then another.

With each stride, the cabin drew incrementally nearer.

Finally, she arrived at the hut and gently pushed the door open—

Creeeak~!

A horrific scene greeted her.

A woman’s body, her throat ripped out.

A man’s form, his limbs bent at impossible angles.

And three children, still and lifeless, blood flowing from countless injuries.

It was a gruesome sight, yet one Rine knew well.

Not only had she witnessed it repeatedly, but she had also produced similar carnage with her own hands.

Even so—

“Hah… hah…”

Her previously steady eyes now widened with dread, and her pulse began to race.

As if she had been thrown back ten years.

To the day she discovered the bodies of her parents and siblings.

And then—

And then, and then—

“!!”

Rine’s eyes snapped open as she scanned her surroundings.

The scene had shifted.

Everything was clear now—this was the room where she had gone to sleep.

There were no corpses, no blood, no softly glowing hut.

Only her chamber, illuminated by the early sun.

“…Haah.”

She pressed her hands over her face, as if drained.

She didn’t know the cause, but these nightmares had been occurring more often lately.

And so—

Soaked in sweat, Rine remained in bed, unable to rise for some time.

***

After the ball had concluded entirely—

“Hoo…”

King Shtalian V, riding in his carriage back to the kingdom, rubbed his eyes with a tired look.

‘Such events really don’t suit me.’

Truthfully, he had never wanted to attend the ball in the first place.

But he’d had no alternative.

Political considerations played a part, but more pressing was the unresolved matter concerning Duke Komalon’s remaining followers.

…To state it more directly—

By appearing at this ball, he could enhance the prestige of Asteria’s monarch and maintain the crown’s dignity, thereby reducing the financial reparations owed for the artificial Outer God affair.

In short, he was compensating with his presence rather than coin.

And so, releasing another heavy sigh, King Shtalian V—

“King of humans.”

Turned toward the voice that had addressed him.

There stood a figure encased head to toe in armor.

A being he had secured through a covert pact with a mysterious non-human race, for purposes yet to come.

The armored man abruptly asked a question.

His tone held an arrogance unfit for one speaking to a king.

Yet Shtalian V felt no trace of annoyance.

Because he understood.

The entity inside that helmet and armor possessed strength enough that he need not show deference to any king.

“When we’re alone, it’s fine, but I’d prefer you to be more discreet in your speech when others are present.”

“No need to worry. I’ll maintain the act.”

“Then, what did you wish to ask?”

At the king’s query, Zakurak the Scarred paused briefly before answering.

“Do you recall the man in the black coat at the ball?”

“…A black coat? Many nobles wore black coats.”

“I speak of the man whose face showed no feeling.”

King Shtalian V knew at once who he meant.

“…You mean Marquis Palatio?”

“That is his name?”

“Yes. He is a rather famous individual in the Allied Kingdom.”

“He must have earned quite a name. Can you tell me about him?”

“I’d rather not, but it isn’t difficult.”

King Shtalian V began to relay what he knew of Marquis Palatio.

Some time later—

“That is the essence of it.”

“I see.”

“But to be honest, I suspect some parts may be inflated.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Certainly, Marquis Palatio’s capabilities are not in question, but stories often grow in the telling. For instance, some claim he single-handedly defeated the Outer God in the north.”

Initially, the account was that Marquis Palatio had played a decisive role.

Over time, however, people added layers until it became ‘the marquis vanquished the Outer God alone.’

Listening in silence, Zakurak finally replied.

“If you ask me, he is likely even more formidable than the rumors suggest. It doesn’t seem like an exaggeration.”

“Hm? What makes you say that?”

“Just what I said. The tales about Marquis Palatio do not appear overblown.”

“…You sound very sure. Why is that?”

At the king’s question, Zakurak gave a grim smile and—

“Because he has the stature to match.”

“The stature…?”

He answered plainly.

King Shtalian V, his tone doubtful, pressed again.

But Zakurak did not answer. Instead, he remembered the image of Marquis Palatio from days before.

The man who had met his gaze with an unreadable, emotionless stare.

‘…And that monstrous presence concealed behind him—so terrifying that merely sensing it could make one’s eyes bleed.’

Zakurak was not one to pay attention to others.

Of course, the ominous aura behind Palatio was a concern, but even that wasn’t enough to truly occupy him.

There were far more urgent issues at hand, and he had crossed from his world to cooperate with humans for a purpose.

The core reason for his interest in Marquis Palatio was—

‘…How does that man possess the Gauntlets of the Primordial Saint?’

Because that man was wearing the Gauntlets of the Primordial Saint.

The Supreme One.

The savior who had once rescued the abandoned races forsaken by the gods—whom the elves had named the Primordial Elf.

And those were the very gauntlets he had used.

At first, Zakurak thought he was mistaken.

But there was no error—the gauntlets the man wore were identical to those once wielded by the Supreme One.

The memories imprinted in his bloodline, inherited across hundreds of generations, confirmed it.

And that was not all.

The gauntlets alone would not have convinced him so completely.

Had it not been for the Shadow Leaves positioned around Marquis Palatio.

‘There were at least six of them.’

Zakurak recalled the six elves concealed near Marquis Palatio.

Each one a warrior of swordmaster caliber, a unit assembled only to guard High Elves.

They had been watching over Marquis Palatio from the shadows.

And if the Shadow Leaves—who answered only to the Queen herself—were protecting him, only one conclusion was possible.

“…Hah.”

Zakurak let out a low, hollow laugh, as though he found the idea ridiculous.

Even to him, it seemed impossible.

A man long dead… had come back?

It couldn’t be—

It shouldn’t be possible.

And yet, here was a man who made him doubt that certainty.

Zakurak, lost in reflection for a time, finally broke the quiet.

“Have a letter prepared when we return.”

“…It isn’t the usual time for a report.”

“I know, but this cannot wait. If my suspicion is correct—”

A slow grin spread across his face.

“Then everyone must be ready.”

For the world might soon be thrown into upheaval.

***

Approximately four days after Alon and his party set out from Terea toward Lartania—

While traveling at an unhurried pace—

“…Marquis?”

“Deus?”

Alon unexpectedly encountered Deus in a village not far from Lartania.

“It’s been some time.”

“Yes, I hope you have been well.”

As soon as Deus saw Alon, he approached quickly and offered a deep bow.

“What brings you here?”

Alon asked, a trace of bewilderment behind his typically impassive expression.

“I was on my way to Lartania.”

“…Lartania?”

“Yes.”

“Then… there was no reason for you to stop here, was there?”

Alon’s confusion was reasonable—Deus should not have been here.

Given Lartania’s position, Asteria lay to the east, while Caliban was to the west.

If Deus had been traveling from Caliban to Lartania, this village was far out of his path.

As Alon voiced his uncertainty—

“Ah, well, I had an item to collect nearby, so I came this way.”

“An item to collect?”

“Yes.”

“…Ah, now I recall, I heard you were crafting something. Was it for that?”

“Yes, I was preparing a gift for you, Marquis.”

“A gift for me?”

This was unexpected.

“Yes.”

“…So that is what you were working on?”

“Exactly.”

Deus gave a firm nod, his expression full of conviction.

Seeing the sincere and eager look in his eyes, Alon felt an odd sense of fluster.

‘Why now, all of a sudden?’

The thought flashed through his mind.

But hearing that someone had taken trouble to prepare a gift for him—he couldn’t deny a small spark of pleasure.

Even if he felt slightly guilty watching Deus exert such effort—

‘…Well, the happiness outweighed the guilt.’

“Where are you headed, Marquis?”

Deus asked in turn.

“I am also going to Lartania.”

“Then let us journey together.”

“…Very well.”

With that, Deus became part of Alon’s group.

The following day—

Alon saw Deus’s younger sister again after a long interval.

“Greet him, Sili.”

“…Hello.”

“…? Ah, yes.”

Alon felt a quiet gladness at seeing her once more.

But Sili—

Her expression was difficult to read.

A blend of feelings, with a touch of what seemed like resentment.

***

In a hidden underground location on the outskirts of Lartania—

Ron, the manager of the Lartania branch of the intelligence guild, studied the hooded woman before him in silence.

Rustle, rustle—

With every slight turn of her head or motion of her hand, another sheet of the document turned.

The next page.

Then the next.

The woman read to the document’s final page, then set it casually on the blackwood desk and spoke in a leisurely tone.

“Hmm—this isn’t quite sufficient. Do you have anything more?”

“More?”

“Yes.”

“If you want more detailed information, the sum you’ve brought is inadequate.”

“Really? I thought it was quite generous.”

“…10 gold coins is already a high price. Information on High Councilor Rine is costly.”

At Ron’s blunt response, the woman hummed, as if calculating, then smirked and shrugged.

“Well, fine. More would be better, but this should be enough.”

“Then you may go.”

“Aren’t you being a bit harsh to a woman like me?”

“You’re hiding your face under a hood. And this is a place of business.”

At Ron’s detached answer, the woman grinned.

“Then how about we discuss business?”

“…As I said, business requires payment.”

“I’ve heard you also purchase valuable information.”

“Hmph, and you believe you have something of value?”

“Naturally. At this moment, no one else knows what I know.”

Ron watched her with a skeptical look.

Nevertheless—

“I’ll hear the information first, then set a price. If it’s something we already possess, you’ll get nothing.”

He could not afford to overlook a potential lead.

“Well, let’s see if you can even meet the price.”

“…?”

Ron allowed her the opportunity.

Slowly, the woman stepped closer, bringing her face near his ear, and then—

“The demon buried beneath the roots— $&%$%&”

She whispered softly.

And the moment she did—

“…!”

Ron understood something.

The woman’s face, which had been partly visible before, was now shrouded in a veil of black mist.

A strange form began materializing in front of him.

As the eerie being’s eyes gradually opened—

Splatter!

Ron’s head burst apart.

Blood instantly drenched the pitch-dark room in crimson.

And then—

“See? I told you that you couldn’t pay the price.”

The woman—or rather, the Apostle of Greed—gazed down at Ron’s headless body.

With a distorted smile, she swept the bloodied documents from the desk into the air.

“Now that everything is prepared—”

As the papers were drawn upward in a rippling motion, a brief glimpse of a sinister abyssal being flickered into view.

“Well then, time to move.”

The Apostle of Greed stepped quietly from the darkened room, leaving no one alive behind her.