Became the Patron of Villains Novel MTL - Chapter 237

Chapter 237

Alon exhaled steadily, casting his gaze forward once again.

High above the canyon walls, soldiers stood poised with spears and bows, prepared to unleash a barrage at any second.

Perched on the cliffs, grotesque monsters with unnaturally elongated limbs let saliva drip uncontrollably.

Directly in their path stood a massive horde of cultists—a gathering so immense it elicited a sigh just by looking at it.

That wasn’t the end of it.

Rumurfa’s red tendrils, currently restraining Rine’s golden crown, started to swallow the entire canyon, demonstrating they still possessed ample reserve power.

“—”

“Ah—”

A cruel cycle commenced.

Fear spawned despair, and despair engaged grief.

It rippled outward, planting despair and grief in others, which in turn bred even more fear.

That infinite loop scoured away hope from every soul present.

Exactly as their enemies intended.

Alon analyzed the predicament with icy logic.

Under these conditions, piercing through such a colossal army to flee toward the alliance was practically impossible.

Had the enemies been merely at the level of the priests they previously encountered, there might have been a chance.

But this was no weak rabble.

‘They must possess the ability to wield divine power.’

The revolting divine energy radiating from the soldiers confirmed it without a doubt.

It signaled clearly—these adversaries were in a completely different league than those they had battled up to now.

Furthermore.

‘…Apostles.’

Alon scowled as he observed the two apostles stationed ahead.

Both wore faces contorted in ecstasy and represented undeniable threats.

One had already displayed their strength, yet the other remained an enigma.

Essentially, even if Alon acted solo right now, the odds of escaping were meager.

Even if he neutralized the apostles, he couldn’t possibly vanquish every soldier there.

Therefore, a shift was required.

A shift capable of reversing this crisis.

And to induce that shift—hope was required once again.

Alon glanced back over his shoulder.

Ryanga was the first to catch his eye, standing with a rigid countenance.

Beside him was Nangwon, clutching his sister’s hand.

Behind Ar, who was trembling just as violently, stood soldiers drowning in despair.

Seeing them, Alon bit his lip.

Dozens of speeches that might kindle their fighting spirit raced through his mind—only to dissipate instantly.

What words would suffice?

What narrative would aid them?

How could he shatter the chain of despair?

In a fraction of a second—

Alon thought, deliberated, and thought some more.

“Rangban.”

“Yes.”

“I’m leaving the rest to you.”

Ultimately, he made a decision.

“Pardon?”

To remain silent.

Instead—

Crack!

—to demonstrate it.

Ignoring Rangban’s confused query, Alon simply stepped forward and invoked his divinity.

Zzzzt!

His black coat hissed with electricity, and the gray world was abruptly saturated with brilliant blue lightning.

Two horns emerged from his head.

Thunderlight danced within his dark eyes.

Finally, the entity that appeared was the god of lightning—the one who had rescued other races from danger repeatedly.

Yet, Alon understood.

This was insufficient.

It wasn’t enough to banish the despair clouding the soldiers behind him.

Nor was it enough to annihilate the cultists of Baarma, who were already poised to attack the instant he transformed.

Therefore—

“Hoo—”

Alon pushed it a step further.

—!!!!!

The instant Alon wrapped himself in lightning, the monsters shrieked and lunged toward the soldiers.

Penia swiftly erected a wide-area shield to form a defense.

The monsters crashed against the barrier.

However, the shield only protected the troops inside.

Alon, having already advanced toward the enemy lines, stood exposed outside its protection.

—!!!

Recognizing this, the monsters immediately swerved and pounced at Alon.

In a heartbeat, they were within killing range.

At that precise juncture—

“Permafrost—”

Alon snapped his fingers.

Crackkkk—!!!!

Black magic erupted from Alon’s gauntlet as a glacial chill swept across the zone.

It was a spell Alon typically employed when battling powerful adversaries.

A spell originally designed merely to stand upon a ‘land of permafrost,’ anticipating the loss of magical capability due to divine restrictions.

However, circumstances had changed.

Zzzzzzzzt~!!!!

From within the frost, blue lightning burst forth, electrocuting every monster in Alon’s vicinity, slaying them instantly.

—!!!!!

Ghastly screams echoed.

Yet the monsters already trapped in the permafrost zone turned helplessly into black ash.

“…! Full assault—!”

Witnessing the spectacle, Rumurfa bellowed in panic.

But at that exact instant, six arms materialized behind Alon’s back.

As the cultists, obeying the apostle’s command, swarmed to execute Alon—

Crack—

The first Ice Seal took shape.

Upon acquiring his divinity, the first discovery Alon made with Penia’s research was shapeshifting.

The second Ice Seal took shape.

Yet shapeshifting hadn’t been Alon’s primary aim.

It was merely a byproduct—Alon’s true research goal lay elsewhere.

Finally, the third Ice Seal took shape.

His research centered on wielding magic while enveloped in divinity.

Alon, who had devoted immense time to this study, only managed to reach a conclusion after arriving here.

The fourth Ice Seal.

Magic cast while cloaked in divinity adopts the characteristics of that divinity.

Alon gazed ahead.

The cultists, already closing the distance under the apostle’s orders, raised their weapons to sever his neck.

Hundreds of monsters sprang toward him, trampling the corpses of their electrocuted brethren.

Eyes wide with fanatical madness, they charged.

Yet, amidst the chaos, Alon formed the fifth Ice Seal.

He glanced up at the sky.

Above, the clouds thickened, darkening the ashen world further.

The magic he crafted, imbued with the traits of divinity.

And then—

The instant the sixth Ice Seal was finalized.

Trait Transformation.

Sixth Ice Seal complete.

Thunder Ice.

Accompanying Alon’s whisper, a bolt of lightning crashed from the heavens.

Crack!

A lightning strike that imprisoned everything.

Rangban felt despair.

No—it wasn’t solely him.

Every soul here felt despair.

It was only logical.

The opposing forces vastly outnumbered them.

More critically, the apostles were present.

The Apostles of Baarma.

Those irrational entities capable of single-handedly engaging hundreds of alliance soldiers and even defying gods—there were two of them.

Rangban believed it was all over.

Regardless of Alon’s strength, confronting two apostles was nearly impossible.

That was why he despaired.

—Until the world was cleaved in two.

“What on earth…?”

Rangban found himself whispering as he stared ahead.

There stood a colossal pillar of ice and lightning, born from the impact.

He looked up, dazed.

The gigantic lightning bolt that had plummeted from the sky remained, its form solid, bisecting the world down the center.

That wasn’t all.

Trapped within the icy structure were countless cultists who, just moments prior, had charged forward with vicious momentum.

And it wasn’t merely the cultists.

Even one of the apostles—who had stood with such arrogance seconds ago—was now frozen inside the ice, an expression of disbelief still etched on their face.

And before them,

Stood a man.

His black coat billowed, his lips pressed into a grim line.

A man who spoke no words—no, a god.

“Ah…”

At someone’s awed gasp, every eye turned to the man.

A man standing tall, splitting the world left and right.

In the eyes of the soldiers gazing at his back, fear and despair no longer existed.

The terror that had dominated them was now—

“GRAAAAHHHH!!!”

—transferred to the cultists, unlike the apostle trapped in the ice, Rumurfa, who had barely evaded the lightning’s range but lost his entire right arm.

His visceral scream reached everyone—

“That’s impossible—!”

And infected the cultists.

The countenances of the cultists, who had previously delighted in the prospect of hunting other races, contorted into fear.

Terror rippled through the soldiers who had rushed in to slay Alon.

The grotesque zealotry that had driven them began to evaporate.

Observing it all, Rangban—

“…!”

Finally comprehended.

What Alon meant earlier when he stated, “I’m counting on you.”

A smile tugged at Rangban’s lips.

He tightened his grip on the sword in his hand.

His body, which had felt like waterlogged cotton saturated with grief, now moved as though that burden had never existed.

With greater strength than ever before, his hand clenched the hilt.

“Everyone, prepare for battle!!”

Rangban’s voice thundered across the canyon.

The soldiers, who had been entranced staring at Alon’s back, snapped back to reality and swiftly seized their weapons.

No longer was fear visible on their faces.

There was no indication of despair.

No remnant of grief either.

Instead—

A new emotion shimmered in everyone’s eyes.

Hope.

Unmistakable hope blazed brightly.

“Comrades! Raise your weapons!”

Rangban shouted again, hoisting his weapon high.

With steely eyes, he surveyed those standing beside him.

Hope begets hope.

Firmly grasped weapons.

Eyes unwavering as they stared down the terrified cultists.

They shared hope with one another.

“Do not be afraid!!”

At his declaration, courage flooded into everyone’s gaze.

“For we—”

And finally—

CRRAAACKKK—!!!

The ice that had imprisoned the apostles and cultists and sundered the world exploded in a cascade of white snow.

And they witnessed it.

The ice that split the heavens burst open, pushing back the ashen clouds, permitting light to stream through.

A brilliance they hadn’t beheld in so long.

Radiant sunlight.

And as they viewed Alon’s back silhouetted against that brilliant sun,

“God is with us!!”

Rangban’s thunderous roar reverberated across the battlefield.

The soldiers, bellowing like thunder, commenced their charge toward the cultists.

With the symbol of hope etched deep in their hearts.