Became the Patron of Villains Novel MTL - Chapter 224

Chapter 224

Thousand-Year Ice had spent a significant amount of time in Historia’s company.

Yet, because his knowledge regarding her personal history was sparse, a multitude of questions about her constantly occupied his mind.

For instance, he wondered why a native of the Eastern Kingdom—a domain populated exclusively by beastfolk—operated under the name Historia, a moniker that held no connection to the East.

He also found it puzzling that she chose to reside in such a diminutive forest when she could have easily secured a life of luxury in any other nation, or even within the Eastern Kingdom itself.

However, at this specific juncture, his curiosity was narrowed down to a single subject.

“……Alon Palatio?”

“Yes, are you acquainted with him?”

The topic was the existence of Alon Palatio.

Thousand-Year Ice had absolutely no prior knowledge of him.

This was to be expected.

Alon was an individual who, by nature, remained secluded within the snow-capped mountains.

Even the alias “Eliban” was something Thousand-Year Ice had only discovered after suffering a defeat at his hands and descending from the mountains, reeling from the shock of such overwhelming strength.

“Hmm.”

Marquis Palatio.

He had arrived with the intention of inquiring about Eliban, but now he found himself far more fascinated by this Alon Palatio.

What sort of being was he, that the Sword Saint—who was known for never displaying a shift in demeanor—would become so passionate?

“……My question was regarding ‘Eliban,’ not ‘Alon Palatio.'”

“As I said, I recognize the name.”

“No, that is not my point. I asked about Eliban, so why are you suddenly introducing the name Alon Palatio?”

“So, do you possess any knowledge about Alon Palatio?”

“……I do not.”

Tch—

“……Is that so.”

When Thousand-Year Ice shook his head in denial, Historia’s tail, which had been swaying rhythmically, lost its energy, and she immediately slumped in disappointment.

Witnessing this reaction, Thousand-Year Ice was momentarily caught off guard.

Then, unable to suppress his intrigue, he cautiously spoke up.

“Is this Alon Palatio a figure of significant importance?”

“If you don’t know him, then never mind.”

Historia sharply turned her face away and sat back down, her ears drooping along with her mood.

What exactly was happening?

His inquiries had been directed at Eliban.

Yet, every response he received was transformed into a query about Alon.

Nevertheless, he understood that pressing her further about the connection between the two would not produce any valuable insights.

Instead, Thousand-Year Ice concluded that he needed to investigate Alon Palatio—the individual who had so thoroughly ignited Historia’s interest.

“……If you wish, I could look into him for you.”

“Truly?”

Historia’s ears, previously limp, perked up halfway.

Noting this shift, Thousand-Year Ice nodded in affirmation.

He still harbored curiosity regarding Eliban.

It was shocking that a young man, appearing barely twenty years of age, commanded such an illogical level of might.

That vast disparity in power had provoked Thousand-Year Ice’s warrior spirit.

However, right now, he found Historia’s behavior far more compelling than his own desire to measure his martial prowess.

“It will not require much time.”

“Thank you.”

“If I return with intelligence, will you agree to tell me something regarding Alon Palatio?”

“What specifically?”

“Anything at all about him.”

“……Agreed.”

“Promise me.”

Having secured her vow, Thousand-Year Ice rose from his seat.

Following Seolrang’s boisterous reception—

The instant Blackie, who had been securely tucked within Alon’s embrace the entire time, attempted to peek out, it was instantly snatched up by Seolrang.

“Waaah! Airplane!!”

[Meowww~!]

“Higher up!”

[Meowwwwww~!]

And thus, the “playtime” commenced.

“Hiiiigher!!”

[Meooooow!!]

It was ambiguous whether Seolrang was playing with Blackie, or if Blackie was simply being played by Seolrang.

Alon merely observed as Seolrang repeatedly launched Blackie into the sky and caught it on the descent.

Meanwhile, Blackie appeared to have realized that escape was impossible once in Seolrang’s grasp, resigning itself to merely screaming in despair.

After a while—

“I’ll launch you again next time~!”

[Meow]

After several more repetitions of the toss-and-catch game, Seolrang finally placed Blackie on the ground.

The moment it was liberated, Blackie immediately burrowed deep into Alon’s chest.

Watching this, Seolrang beamed with a look of pure satisfaction.

Alon turned toward her and inquired,

“Seolrang, what brings you here?”

“I came to see Master!”

“You traveled here to see me?”

“Yup!”

“Not because an incident occurred?”

“Nope!”

“You just arrived solely to see me?”

“That’s correct!”

Her response was uncomplicated.

Seolrang gazed up at him as if confused about why this would be an issue.

Now that he considered it, the beastfolk companions she usually traveled with were absent.

“……Is it safe for you to be wandering around by yourself?”

“Well, it’s not exactly safe, but—”

“But?”

“I wanted to see Master!”

She wagged her tail vigorously, as if anticipating praise.

Seeing her like this, Alon felt a pang of guilt.

“I made you travel a long distance. If you had waited just a bit longer, I would have come to find you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I intended to visit the marquis’s estate prior to heading for Colony. I should have informed you beforehand.”

“That’s even better!”

“……? How so?”

“That means I get to journey with Master all the way to Colony!”

Her relentlessly positive outlook caused Alon to chuckle involuntarily.

With that, after catching up like a father and daughter reunited after a long separation, they parted ways late into the night to return to their respective accommodations.

The following day, after a full night’s rest, Alon departed for the marquis’s estate, accompanied by Seolrang.

A full fortnight had elapsed since Alon’s departure from Caliban.

As they traversed Lartania and approached the border of Asteria—

“—”

Alon was thoroughly savoring a peaceful existence.

Or, to be more accurate—a “silent” existence.

The reason for this was—

“—”

Seolrang was seated upon his lap, keeping his ears gently pressed down.

Initially, when Alon embarked on this trip with Seolrang, he had anticipated a chaotic experience.

After all, he was well aware that she was naturally high-spirited, fond of mischief, and incapable of remaining still for even a brief moment.

However, defying his expectations, the journey had turned surprisingly tranquil from the moment she joined.

For one, Basiliora had concealed himself within the ring and refused to emerge.

On the first day of their travels, he had surfaced to antagonize Evan without cause—only to be apprehended by Seolrang.

[Graaaah! I am male! Males do not wear garments such as this!!!]

For reasons that remained a mystery, Seolrang possessed a feminine dress, and she had swaddled Basiliora tightly within it.

After enduring various other indignities under the guise of “play,” he had been so traumatized that he never surfaced again.

Blackie was in a comparable predicament.

It had not revealed its face from within his clothing since day one.

Consequently, Evan drove the carriage at a more relaxed pace than usual, taking in the surrounding landscape.

Seolrang, as well, spent the majority of her time either engaging in brief chatter with Alon or resting her head on his lap and napping, resulting in an overall serene journey.

Basiliora and Blackie—

Since he began traveling with those two, this was the first instance Alon had known such tranquility.

He did not dislike this quietude, yet in some respects, it felt slightly void.

Peace and silence are pleasant, certainly, but this is almost excessive.

Before those two had arrived, this level of silence had been the norm.

But now, given how raucous his days had become, this stillness felt somewhat foreign.

‘I suppose this is the sensation of not realizing the value of something until it is absent.’

That reflection lingered only for a second before Alon simply shrugged it off.

It wasn’t as though he found traveling with Seolrang unpleasant, after all.

In many ways, Seolrang had a knack for making Alon feel like a father.

Even at this moment, for example—

Perhaps finding the sunlight filtering through the carriage window agreeable, she was leaning drowsily against him, dozing in a state of relaxation.

The mere sight brought a smile to Alon’s face without him realizing it.

He had felt this previously, but—

Whenever Seolrang displayed such defenselessness, it served as confirmation that she truly trusted him, filling his heart with warmth.

For a time, he gently pressed her ears and occasionally stroked her head, enjoying her subtle responses.

Then, out of routine, he closed his eyes to examine his internal state.

By this point, he was so accustomed to it that he could verify his divine status instantly without conscious exertion.

As he casually inspected his usual divine abilities—

‘…Huh?’

He suddenly detected the presence of an additional divine power.

It was incredibly faint, yet it emitted a grayish luminescence.

‘What… is this?’

Alon’s mind was flooded with questions.

The North—

A territory where barbarians relentlessly pushed southward, and knights fought without pause to hold them at bay, resulting in a perpetual war.

Recently, rumors had circulated that Luraka, the spiritual pillar and unifying leader of the barbarians, had vanished.

However, as if to contradict the rumors, the barbarian offensives had only intensified, leading to even more ferocious battles.

And deep within this war-torn region—

Inside the largest of the barbarian tribes, the Blue Toes, formerly led by Luraka—

“It… everything is prepared.”

A man—

Formerly Luraka’s right-hand aide and now the new chieftain of the Blue Toes, Turtur—

And a woman—

No, Yutia Bloodia—

Turtur bowed his head in her presence.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see.”

With a soft smile, Yutia rose from her seat.

Turtur immediately jumped up in a near-panic, stepping forward to escort her.

He led her toward a vast cavern located in the cliffs within the Blue Toes’ territory—

A sacred site that had once been reserved exclusively for the ritual of selecting a tribal chief.

“This way.”

His voice quivered as they entered.

Guided by him, Yutia slowly shifted her gaze.

At the far end of the colossal cave stood an immense statue— A majestic figure draped in a black coat, donning a crimson bone mask.

Beneath the effigy knelt countless tribe members, their heads bowed in reverence.

“Hmm~”

Yutia carefully scrutinized the expressions of the prostrate tribespeople.

Every single one of them bore traces of fear—subtle, yet unmistakable.

“…I apologize. I will ensure they receive better instruction.”

Perhaps sensing Yutia’s critical gaze, Turtur hastily lowered his head, attempting to salvage the situation.

However, Yutia merely curved her lips into an ambiguous smile and spoke.

“Turtur.”

“Y-Yes, my lady?”

“Do you believe I might transform you all into a pool of blood at any second?”

“That is—”

“You may answer with honesty.”

A moment of silence hung between them before Turtur, clutching his racing heart, replied.

“To be honest… yes, I do.”

The admission caused his teeth to clench involuntarily.

Had he erred?

Had he just condemned himself—and the tribe he was sworn to protect?

A surge of regret and terror threatened to swallow him whole.

But—

“Thank you.”

“…Pardon?”

“Since you were truthful with me, I will be truthful with you as well. I have no intention of killing you.”

The response was unforeseen.

Turtur blinked in bewilderment as Yutia continued.

“Are you surprised? But it is the truth. As long as you continue to worship him, I have no reason to harm you.”

“…Is that truly the case?”

“Yes, truly. As long as you worship him, you are people under my protection.”

“…Whom do you mean?”

At Turtur’s cautious question, Yutia simply smiled.

“All of you.”

“All… of us?”

“Yes. Whether it is your fellow barbarians, the knights obstructing your path south, or even the revered god of Sironia—regardless of the entity, I will protect you.”

Turtur instinctively wanted to ask, Are you serious?—but he bit his tongue.

The sheer intensity of Yutia’s unshakeable fanaticism rendered his question futile.

Instead—

“…Why?”

“Why what?”

“…Why go to such lengths for us?”

He required a reason.

How could mere faith in a deity justify such devotion?

Turtur could not fathom it.

Upon hearing his question, Yutia fell into brief contemplation before answering.

“Because aside from him, I do not care about anything else.”

“…What do you mean—”

“I mean it literally. Whether the knights are all slaughtered, the priests are massacred, your people tear down the Allied Kingdom, or even if the world suddenly comes to an end—it does not matter to me.”

Pausing to take a breath, Yutia added,

“The only thing that matters is him. Nothing else concerns me.”

Her voice was absolute.

Her expression had gone blank, her lips murmuring, Nothing else matters…

Watching her, Turtur instinctively realized—

The person standing before him was fundamentally different.

And she was someone he must never, ever oppose.

Thus—

“I understand.”

Turtur bowed deeply.

“I am glad you do.”

“…However, may I ask one thing?”

“What is it?”

“What is the name of the one we worship?”

Turtur inquired cautiously, grasping the gravity of the question.

At this, Yutia let out a small ah of realization before smiling faintly.

“You are right. Then—”

With a gentle yet unwavering tone, she declared—

“He shall be known as the Star Eater.”