Became the Patron of Villains Novel MTL - Chapter 176

Chapter 176

 

The Apostle of Greed regarded the individual before her with an inscrutable gaze.

Standing silhouetted against the backdrop of the blue moon, the man wore a friendly grin and fixed his piercingly bright blue eyes, which shone with the same intensity as the celestial body, upon Emil.

Splat!

Blood erupted from Emil’s mouth, running down her chin and pooling upon the blade that had skewered her torso.

Immediately, crimson droplets began to fall and stain the earth.

“Who… are you…?”

Sensing her life force fading, Emil uttered the question, the former smile now completely gone from her pale face.

In striking contrast to Emil’s grave condition, the man’s pleasant expression remained entirely undisturbed.

“Does that truly matter at this moment?”

“Isn’t the answer self-evident?”

As if determined not to betray her rising anxiety, Emil’s voice held steady, even as her facial muscles tightened with effort.

The man countered her question with an air of careless indifference.

“And why is that?”

“Shouldn’t I at least be permitted to know the name of my killer?”

“Killer? Oh, not quite that, no.”

“In that case… are you planning to let me go now?”

“No, there’s no call for that. After all—”

Shluk!

“You’ll simply revive, won’t you?”

At these words, Emil’s countenance grew even colder.

She had somewhat anticipated this when he plunged his weapon into her back, but his statement now confirmed her worst fears.

He was aware of her reincarnation magic—a secret known only among the Apostles.

Her mind raced, desperately trying to construct a logical explanation.

Which of the Apostles had divulged the existence of the reincarnation magic?

And, most crucially, what was the full extent of this man’s knowledge? How accurate were his details?

But her internal questioning was abruptly silenced.

“Ack—! Haaah—!”

As if punishing her for her quiet introspection, the man drove his sword in even deeper.

She choked up another surge of blood.

Drip, drip!

Crimson spots spattered onto his trousers like chaotic rain.

Yet, the man’s face maintained an unnerving composure.

“You don’t need to worry excessively.”

“……”

“I won’t know where your subsequent revival will occur, after all.”

Emil gritted her teeth.

She didn’t believe a word he said.

If he truly lacked that knowledge, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to offer such empty reassurance.

A hint of distress flickered across Emil’s features as she struggled to raise her gaze toward him.

The man continued to smile.

Even amid this bloodshed, he was unchanged, standing against the blue moon with that perpetual, agreeable expression.

Then, as though offering a final consolation to a dying spirit, he reached out.

“I came here for the sole purpose of issuing a warning.”

“… A… warning?”

He gently caressed her cheek.

“That is correct.”

“A warning concerning what?”

For a fleeting moment, his eyes took on a look of sharp, cold menace.

“Do not lay a finger on Marquis Palatio.”

“… What?”

“I stated it plainly.”

Shluk!

“Urgh—ugh!”

“Do not harm Marquis Palatio. Of course, I know he is not someone your faction can easily dispatch.”

“……”

“But you see, people are curious beings.”

Crunch!

“They are prone to becoming anxious.”

Eliban let out a clumsy chuckle, scratching his head with an expression entirely inappropriate for the grim scene.

As she teetered on the edge of death, Emil was overcome by a bizarre sense of discord.

A strange, deeply unsettling familiarity.

As if she had encountered this man somewhere before.

A place that made her profoundly uneasy.

“Anyway, that’s why I came to inform you. It may sound callous, but I genuinely don’t care about what you and your people choose to do. You may pursue whatever objectives you desire.”

Emil obsessively replayed her memories, trying to pinpoint the source of this discomfort.

Relentlessly.

As if the thought itself were consuming her.

“However, you must never target Marquis Palatio. That man must not perish—at least, not yet.”

Even with mortality closing in, the question echoed endlessly within her.

And then—

“Ah.”

“Remember my instruction, Apostle of Greed—no, Emil.”

She finally grasped it.

The origin of the disturbing familiarity.

“If you wish to prevent your avarice from leading you to eternal oblivion, you would be wise to heed my caution.”

Where she had previously seen the eyes of the man who now possessed intimate knowledge of her weakness.

“Never touch him.”

It was from far beneath the foundational roots—

Far lower than even their own organization—

The Nebula.

Rumble…!

Emil’s thoughts were severed.

The world dissolved into darkness.

The instant she recognized the source of her unease, her head had already rotated twice, her neck cleanly broken, and her life extinguished.

And Eliban—

He wiped the smile from his face as if it had been a fabrication.

Without uttering another sound, he turned his back and walked away.

---

A few days following their departure from Lartania.

[Hmm, I feel completely depleted.]

“Why? Did you wear yourself out being so delightfully unimportant?”

[Human, if you say one more contemptuous word, I swear I will shred you to pieces.]

“And how precisely do you intend to accomplish that?”

[Grrrrr—! If only I could manifest in the physical realm, you—!]

“But you are incapable of that, aren’t you? What will you do about that limitation?”

[Kraaaaaaah!]

For several days, Evan had been relentlessly harassing Basiliora, behaving as if he had stumbled upon a perfect excuse.

The simple phrase “delightfully unimportant” had ignited an unexpected feud.

Observing the constant squabbling between the two, Alon quietly sighed to himself.

During their stay in Lartania, events had unfolded in such quick succession that there was no opportunity for quiet reflection.

But now that he had time, his mind was overwhelmed with unanswered questions.

The most prominent of these was the vision he had witnessed when he encountered Kylrus.

A world entirely annihilated—nothing remaining but ruin.

[What nonsense are you spewing, child? This is your own mindscape.]

Recalling Kylrus’s statement, Alon puzzled over the meaning.

From what he understood—and based on Kylrus’s explanation—a person’s mindscape typically mirrored their innermost self.

Kylrus had also clarified that a mindscape always fit into one of two classifications:

For mages, whose internal landscape was solidified by receiving mental impressions and symbolic formulas.

Or for those without such specialized training, where deeply etched memories shaped the overall environment.

Alon, though capable of using Runes, had never received an imprint nor did he possess any type of magical formula.

This left only a single possible explanation.

A deeply ingrained memory.

This would imply that the sight of the ruined world had originated from his own recollections.

But Alon found this impossible to reconcile.

He had spent more than a decade living in this world.

For all intents and purposes, he had become a native of it.

Yet, technically speaking, he did not originally hail from this world.

He held no memory of ever witnessing such utter devastation.

Could it be a memory belonging to the original Alon Palatio?

That also seemed highly improbable.

After all, when he took over the identity of Alon, the body was still youthful—not yet having reached his age of majority.

And such a catastrophic scene was not something a young noble would ever have encountered.

Which meant—

The memory of that ruined world did not belong to the original Alon either.

‘Then only one conclusion remains… I have simply forgotten it.’

A memory lost to time.

Alon absentmindedly rubbed his chin.

Had he ever visited a location that resembled that world?

No matter how hard he tried to recall, there was no such place.

The closest analogy he could conceive of was the North.

But even that was an imperfect comparison.

A desolate, frozen wasteland and a world where all life had been eradicated were fundamentally different concepts.

After mulling it over for a while, he unconsciously fidgeted with ‘Footsteps of the Past’ hidden within his coat.

‘By the time we arrive at Colony, I should be able to go inside again. I’ll press him for more answers then.’

Having organized his thoughts, Alon reached out and gently stroked Blackie, the small creature that had emerged from his breast pocket and was now purring contentedly against his hand.

It was the peak of the summer season.

---

Roughly a month later—

Teyra arrived at the royal castle under the directive of Carmaxes III.

And soon, he was told the name of the individual suspected of being a Sage God.

“Marquis Palatio, you say?”

“Yes. When he arrives, confirm this for me.”

“Understood.”

Though he responded dutifully, his mind was filled with confusion.

To be frank, Teyra could not fathom why Carmaxes III suspected Marquis Palatio of being a Sage God.

‘Well… His accomplishments are truly noteworthy, but…’

Even as an experienced archaeologist, Teyra was familiar with the Marquis.

He had confronted Outer Gods and various monsters, amassing achievements far surpassing the expectations for a simple noble.

His reputation was known across the entire continent.

But even with all that considered, Teyra believed the king’s suspicion was utterly baseless.

Of course, Carmaxes III must have had his own undisclosed reasons.

Even so, Teyra was certain of one thing.

He had already seen a Sage God before.

And Sage Gods were impossible to overlook or mistake for something else.

Furthermore—

If Marquis Palatio truly were a Sage God, there would be no logical reason for him to conceal it.

‘Well… I suppose there could be some motive to hide his true identity, but—’

Even if that were the case, disguising himself as a noble made absolutely no sense.

…Though, to be honest, he didn’t fully understand why any Sage God would bother with disguises in the first place.

At that precise moment—

The large doors to the audience chamber swung open.

A man strode in.

Dressed in a dark overcoat, he maintained an impassive expression even in the presence of the king.

‘So that is Marquis Palatio.’

Teyra was momentarily stunned.

He had glimpsed the man from a distance previously, but meeting him in such close proximity—

There was something profoundly compelling about his demeanor.

A quality that defied easy description.

A presence unlike anything he had ever encountered.

He stared at the Marquis in a bewildered daze—until—

“How has your journey been, Marquis Palatio?”

“I have fared well, Your Majesty.”

Carmaxes III’s voice startled him back to full awareness.

He had to proceed immediately—with the utmost discretion, just as commanded.

While the two men exchanged formal greetings, Teyra silently gathered his mana and channeled it into the artifact concealed within his coat.

A blue, spherical artifact he had unearthed from an ancient ruin in a jungle ten years prior.

Its function was straightforward.

It made the target’s latent power manifest as a visible construct.

In the past, he had used it on a Sage God in the Lizardman territory—

And he had witnessed how divine power took on a physical form.

‘If Marquis Palatio is indeed a god, a chained sphere should materialize before him. If he is not, it will simply be a plain orb.’

He didn’t know the reason for this specific manifestation, but every Sage God he had encountered had produced the identical result.

As the artifact activated, Teyra turned his eyes toward the Marquis without much genuine expectation—

And then, his eyes stretched wide in shock.

‘This… this is… impossible…!’

Because, just as before, a sphere had appeared in front of the Marquis.

A sphere enclosed in chains.

Teyra’s astonishment went beyond merely wide eyes.

Despite Carmaxes III’s explicit instructions to remain inconspicuous, his jaw dropped open involuntarily.

And for an incredibly good reason—

Before Marquis Palatio—

There were not one, but four orbs.

A Sage God had only ever possessed a single one.

Yet now, standing directly before him—

There were four.