Raising Villains the Right Way Novel - Chapter 189

Chapter 189

[You have arrived, Eater of Stars.]

The resonance of a voice reached not only Alon’s auditory senses but penetrated profoundly into his mental space.

Alon quickly scanned his surroundings.

However, the only thing he perceived was Rim’s peculiar, fixed stare in his direction.

It was then that the realization struck him: the voice was a private message, audible only within his own consciousness.

[Proceed to the deepest part of the roots. What you seek will be discovered there.]

“Hold on—”

The deep, commanding voice simply delivered its instruction and ceased.

Alon instinctively moved to speak, but found—

“What is the matter?”

Only Rim’s inquiry met his ears.

He unconsciously lifted his hand for a brief moment, then deliberately let it fall back down.

“…….”

“I intend to continue the descent.”

“Must we proceed further?”

“This location is merely the entryway. We are advancing to the forward post.”

Rim continued moving, signaling that the conversation was concluded.

As Alon followed, the recent voice returned to his thoughts.

‘What exactly was that?’

Initially, he suspected it might be the entity that had previously guided him beneath the roots, but he dismissed the notion.

‘The sound was distinct. Unlike the garbled speech of the dark eyes, this was unequivocally a male voice.’

It possessed a clarity and character notably different from the voice he had once been unable to decipher.

While Alon contemplated this behind his expressionless exterior—

“We have reached our destination.”

“……Ah.”

Rim announced their arrival, and a small sound of surprise escaped Alon.

A stronghold, resembling a fortress, was constructed deep within the vast chasm.

Its physical size was not impressive.

Yet, in this enveloping gloom, it emitted the sole, gentle illumination, akin to a firefly’s spark.

The atmosphere was curiously ethereal.

After a moment of absorbing the view, Alon stepped inside alongside Rim.

‘This is preferable.’

In contrast to the completely obscured depths beneath the roots,

The interior of the fortress, though dimly lit, offered enough light for clear observation.

As Alon methodically surveyed the structure—

“Hmm? Rim, what brings you here? It’s not the time for the guard rotation.”

“What is happening?”

“It’s Rim! ……Wait, what? The Shadow Leaves is here too?”

Three Elves emerged from the interior.

Two male, one female.

“……A human?”

The instant their eyes fixed on Alon, their cheerful expressions vanished, replaced by hands instinctively reaching for their weapons.

“Hold your positions. This is a direct mandate from the Queen.”

“……From the Queen?”

“That is correct.”

“But why?”

“Surely, you have received some briefing, even if not the full details. Is that not so?”

At Rim’s words, a flash of recognition crossed their faces.

Then, with a look of ‘Ah, that particular issue?’ they withdrew their hands from their armaments.

However, the alertness and suspicion in their eyes persisted.

‘……Similar to Rim.’

While Alon considered this, a tall Elf armed with a longsword spoke.

“I am Egal.”

Next, an Elf with an unusually powerful build for his race, carrying a huge double-bladed axe across his back, introduced himself.

“Vian.”

Following him, a shorter Elf with a pair of short swords sheathed at her waist spoke.

“Ramu.”

“……Alon.”

A terse, unadorned exchange of names.

Alon glanced at the trio of Elves before turning toward Rim, who had spoken again.

“Now, do you require anything else here?”

Alon promptly recalled his primary goal.

“How does one proceed to descend further from this location?”

“……You intend to penetrate deeper than this point?”

“I do.”

In response to Alon’s confirmation, Rim’s expression intensified its coldness.

“Are you even aware of what inhabits the deepest reaches of these roots?”

“What is situated down there?”

“There are the ‘Ashes.’”

Vian answered, speaking before Rim could.

Alon turned to him and inquired.

“Ashes?”

“Yes. To simplify, they are the grotesque creatures that dwell beneath the roots.”

“……Do they possess great power?”

“Not particularly. Each of us can manage dozens without difficulty.”

Vian stated this fact without embellishment.

“In that case—”

“However, in the lower depths, there is the ‘Ash Seeder.’”

“……The Ash Seeder?”

“It is the source that continuously generates the Ashes. It acts as the sentinel of the roots.”

Unlike his previous relaxed manner,

Vian’s face contorted with bitterness.

“We are incapable of eliminating it. This is why our struggle here is unending.”

“……Is it truly that formidable?”

“It is. But that is only part of the challenge.”

“What else is involved?”

This time, Rim provided the answer to Alon’s question.

Maintaining her stern composure, she continued.

“In the stratum where the Ash Seeder resides, the use of magic is utterly negated.”

“……Magic is non-functional, you say?”

“Precisely. The deeper the descent beneath the roots, the less viable magic becomes. Even with Philde, our ninth-ranked Grand Mage, we still lack the ability to vanquish the entity below.”

From Rim’s explanation, Alon gained a general understanding of the situation.

‘So, to acquire the capacity to use Arrow, I must enter an area where magic is suppressed, defeat the Ash Seeder, and continue my journey.’

“……”

Alon paused.

Unlike past situations, he possessed no valuable preliminary intelligence about the Ash Seeder.

This implied a substantially elevated risk compared to his usual endeavors.

Furthermore, the complete inability to use magic compounded the peril.

Nevertheless, despite acknowledging all these risks—

“I request that you show me the way to the depths.”

The objective remained worth pursuing.

“You do not have to accompany me. Merely guide me to the path, and I will descend alone.”

Recalling his contingency plans, Alon resolved to proceed by himself.

“I apologize, but we have no intention of permitting you to reach the depths in the first place.”

Ramu stepped forward as if to refute Alon’s statement.

“No, step back.”

Rim intervened, stopping him.

“What? Why?”

“The Queen commanded us to grant his request.”

“……Are you being serious?”

“Have I ever given you false information?”

“No, but no matter how I reason it, letting him go down there is far too—”

“Ramu. This is the Queen’s directive.”

The Queen’s directive.

Ramu appeared to wrestle internally with the response, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly.

“……Very well.”

Finally, he retreated a step.

“Then we shall move instantly.”

They exited the fortress once more, plunging back into the dark abyss.

Their destination: the lowest extent of the roots.

---

After walking for a considerable distance beyond the structure,

Alon, rendered numb by the perpetual darkness surrounding them, simply focused on maintaining his pace.

Just as a faint ache began in his legs—

“……!”

Abruptly, a powerful flash of light unfolded ahead, illuminating the entire volume of space.

The sudden brilliance caused Alon to instinctively narrow his eyes.

“This is the middle stratum of the roots.”

Rim’s flat explanation followed.

Alon absorbed the spectacle of the middle layer.

It presented a stark contrast to the upper layer.

‘It is luminous.’

The highest stratum had been pure, unbroken gloom.

Conversely, the middle layer was bright enough to see clearly for great distances.

Gigantic roots crisscrossed the space in a complex tangle, forming traversable routes.

Alon soon realized that the very ground beneath his feet was one of these immense roots, yet the sensation was not strange.

The roots were so vast that it felt equivalent to walking along an expansive, eight-lane thoroughfare.

Silently impressed, Alon followed as Rim led the way further downward.

---

As Alon and his guides continued their downward path—

‘Why are we engaged in this, simply because of that human’s assertion?’

Walking at the head of the group, Rim exhaled a silent sigh, her face clouded with exasperation.

No matter her rational analysis, the Queen’s order defied her comprehension.

From her perspective, the man walking behind her was neither an Ancestral Elf nor possessed any special distinguishing qualities.

Certainly, there were extenuating factors.

He carried an artifact belonging to the Ancestral Elves, and he had received recognition from Philde, the Elves’ most senior Mage.

But beyond those points—

What substance was there?

Where was the certainty that this man was truly the Ancestral Elf?

Was that the extent of it?

There were inconsistencies with Philde’s own account.

Philde had stated that the Ancestral Elf had undergone reincarnation via a pact and could not approach the World Tree due to the ominous entity tracking him.

Yet, what was unfolding now?

He had reached Greynifra, bearing the very eerie presence that posed a potential threat to the World Tree.

And now, he was pressing onward toward the root-depths.

His actions completely contradicted Philde’s forecast.

Nonetheless, the Queen behaved as if she had been shown irrefutable evidence.

This fostered a deep unease in Rim.

Her fear was that the Queen, unable to overcome the loss of her deceased sibling, was latching onto the merest possibility, desperately wanting to believe the man was the Ancestral Elf.

As she struggled to contain her growing discontent—

“……Rim.”

Suddenly, Vian’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“What is the matter, Vian?”

“Something is amiss.”

“……In what way?”

“By this point, we should have already clashed with the Ashes.”

Rim finally turned her head to observe her surroundings, a frown creasing her brow.

Vian was correct—there was a clear anomaly.

The Ashes consistently crawled upward from the roots.

Furthermore, to impede the Elves’ descent, hundreds of them were always stationed throughout the middle stratum.

In essence, an encounter should have already occurred.

‘But we’ve almost reached the bottom, and there are no Ashes anywhere to be seen……?’

No matter how far she searched, the Ashes that should have been widely dispersed were utterly absent.

Rim instinctively stiffened.

She understood.

The non-appearance of the Ashes was a deeply troubling sign.

After a moment of deliberation, Rim addressed Vian.

“Vian.”

“State your question.”

“Have there been previous occurrences of irregular phenomena?”

“A few months ago, there was a massive upward surge of Ashes, but that was the last incident.”

“And since then?”

“No particular indications of anything unusual. But this……”

“……An anomaly.”

An abnormal phenomenon.

The term described a sudden, drastic change in the Ashes’ predictable behavior.

It was rare, but whenever it happened, it invariably signaled immense peril.

“Regardless, we were obligated to descend eventually.”

Rim murmured to herself.

Anomalies required the earliest possible detection to allow preparation for crises or resolution of emerging dangers.

Her expression became markedly more solemn.

Their descent into the depths proceeded with vastly increased caution.

Eventually—

“This area marks the deep root zone.”

They arrived at a place where the chaotic, interwoven roots all converged, leading to a huge, gaping circular hole at the center.

“How do we continue downward?”

Similar to the upper layers, the interior of the hole was hidden from sight.

Without speaking, Rim indicated a winding stone staircase that spiraled down along the inner wall of the vast opening.

The group resumed their descent.

And by the time their feet were throbbing unbearably, likely covered in fresh sores—

Rim realized they had finally achieved the deepest region of the roots.

And she froze in her tracks.

Not just her—

Egal, Vian, and even Ramu stood utterly motionless, their faces imprinted with shock.

Because the scene that dominated their view was—

A colossal multitude of Ashes.

“Hah—”

Rim involuntarily gasped, swallowing hard.

While retaining the general outlines of human or beastkin forms,

Ash-like particles drifted from their bodies, and like the superheated surface of a volcano, their skin glowed with a faint, throbbing red as they moved.

Every characteristic confirmed—

These were unequivocally Ashes.

Rim attempted to estimate the count.

Hundreds?

No, far too few.

Thousands?

Still inadequate.

Then—

‘Ten thousand.’

Rim’s jaw tightened.

The scale of the impending catastrophe was horrifyingly clear.

Whether they could wield magic or not ceased to be the critical issue.

If this entire army began to ascend simultaneously—

Paggade would be obliterated instantly.

A disaster of insurmountable magnitude.

Just as despair began to etch itself onto her features—

!!!

One of the Ashes, which had maintained silence until that moment, let out a high-pitched, screaming wail—

Directed straight at Alon’s group, the trespassers who had violated their sanctuary.

—!!!!

As if triggered by the first cry, the rest of the Ashes began to roar with uncontrolled frenzy.

Then, waves of Ashes surged forward, launching themselves through the air in a charging torrent.

“Flee!”

Rim screamed the command and instantly began a desperate sprint back up the circular stairs.

However—

“No! Up—!”

“What?!”

“They are above us too…!!!”

Ramu’s frantic yell made her snap her head upward.

“……!!”

She saw it.

The previously clear upper staircase—

Now infested with descending Ashes.

As if they had been lying in wait.

Waiting for the group to commit to the deepest point before closing the trap.

The coordination was deeply unnatural.

In the centuries they had battled the Ashes,

Not once had they ever—

Exhibited intelligent, calculated behavior.

There was no time to ponder the inexplicable.

A look of total defeat spread across the Elves’ faces.

None of them were weak individuals.

They were the foremost warriors of Paggade.

Yet even as elite combatants—

“This… This is…”

They perceived zero chance of survival.

Not against this overwhelming density of Ashes.

Despair transformed into acceptance.

And then—

“Everyone, press against the walls.”

“!”

A voice cut through the chaos.

Calm—far too tranquil for the extremity of the danger.

Rim swung her gaze around.

There stood Marquis Palatio.

The deafening howls of the Ashes saturated the space.

They were moments from being torn to shreds.

Yet he simply observed them, his expression utterly detached.

“You will be caught in the backlash otherwise.”

He repeated the instruction.

“You fool! I informed you—! Magic is completely useless in this location!”

Rim shrieked, her tone laden with frantic urgency.

He was a practitioner of magic.

Without his sorcery, he was utterly defenseless.

Yet he remained utterly unconcerned, surveying the horde of Ashes that were now descending upon them.

Then—

“Ally, Manifest.”

Alon’s voice resonated.

The Elves watched.

Beneath the root system of the World Tree—

Kwa-ga-ga-ga-ga-gak!!

A crushing, overwhelming force pulverized the foremost Ashes instantly—

■—!

A distinct presence arrived.

The emergence of the Receiver.

Basiliora.