Became the Patron of Villains Novel MTL - Chapter 245

Chapter 245

Starting the very next day, the Alliance capital transformed into a hub of frenetic activity. Soldiers, who had previously stood about like lifeless old trees lacking purpose, now moved with urgency, preparing for what lay ahead. Civilians, without exception, stepped in to assist the troops.

amidst this bustling atmosphere, Alon paid a visit to the children he had rescued.

“You’re so mean~!!”

Alon looked down at Arquilainisis—or rather, Ar—who had wrapped her tail tightly around his waist and was wailing like a heartbroken child.

“Why didn’t you come to see me sooner?!”

“……It has only been a few days.”

“Still, you’re too mean! You could have come yesterday, or even the day before that!”

Even through her sobbing, Ar managed to voice every complaint she had.

“Come down now, you silly dragon.”

“No!”

Nangwon watched the scene with an exasperated look and made a comment, prompting Ar to shout back at him. Leaving Ar clinging to him like a stubborn cicada, Alon turned his attention to Nangwon.

“Have you been doing well?”

“Yes, thanks to your consideration, I was able to stay very comfortably. Thank you.”

Nangwon bowed politely, maintaining his usual demeanor. Alon felt a sense of relief.

‘I am glad I arranged a place for them inside the palace.’

While Ryanga, Ar, and Lia might have managed elsewhere, leaving someone like Nangwon unsupervised outside could have led to trouble, so Alon had intentionally secured lodgings within the kingdom’s secure walls.

“By the way, Ryanga—”

“Chief!”

Before he could even finish the question, Ryanga came sprinting from a distance. A bright, beaming smile was plastered across her face.

“Have you been well?”

“Yeah, I was practicing.”

“Practicing?”

“……Yeah, I’m still not used to it, so I’ve been training on how to control it properly.”

Ryanga answered with a slightly awkward grin. Alon noticed she was hiding both hands behind her back, and his gaze drifted downward. Blood was seeping through the bandages wrapped around her feet.

“Take care of yourself while you train. If your body collapses when it really matters, you won’t be able to accomplish anything.”

“Thanks for worrying about me.”

Shortly after Ryanga arrived, the fox beastkin Lia appeared. Once Alon had verified the condition of all the children, he proceeded to his next destination.

“Penia.”

“Marquis, you’re here?”

He had arrived at Penia’s quarters.

“Any new developments?”

The reason for his visit was to hear her insights regarding the hint he had recently received from Dowon.

“Hmm—It’s not perfect, but I’ve managed to interpret it to some degree.”

Penia recited the words Dowon had passed on to her through Alon.

[First, do not cling to the technique called Reversal of Heaven, and instead, reflect on what you truly need.]

[Second, do not seek out the laws.]

[Third, engrave it at the moment of birth.]

[Fourth, the divinity of green is regeneration.]

It was a spell entrusted to Dowon, almost as if some unknown entity had foreseen that Alon would return to the past. Alon had already mulled over those words countless times himself.

“In my opinion, this hint essentially means: ‘Create a new law and become a True Mage.’ That is the only logical interpretation I can derive from it.”

“So you think so too?”

“Did you reach the same conclusion, Marquis?”

“I wasn’t entirely certain. But I recalled something you mentioned previously.”

“That all True Mages possess the potential to become gods…… correct?”

“Yes.”

Penia nodded in agreement.

“To be honest, I interpreted it with that specific phrase in mind. Well, it is difficult to interpret it any other way.”

“Did you gain any other knowledge?”

“There was a pile of books, so I did learn quite a bit~ But regarding the essence of a True Mage, the fundamental aspect—there wasn’t really anything concrete.”

“……The essence?”

“Yes.”

Penia hesitated for a moment before continuing.

“Based on my research, all True Mages—except for the very first one who created the law—passed down mental images and developed magic through that method.”

Alon nodded for her to proceed, and Penia went on.

“So the actual process of how an individual becomes a True Mage… it is mostly recorded in vague terms. Although, there are other sections.”

She murmured examples, such as the law of words or the law of beastkin. Suddenly, she exclaimed, “Ah,” and added,

“But this part might be beneficial to you, Marquis.”

“That is true.”

“Right? It’s genuinely helpful, isn’t it?”

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“……What artifact do you want to research?”

Sensing her underlying motive, Alon asked directly, causing her to giggle.

“I’ll tell you next time. Anyway, what is certain is that ‘you become a True Mage through the process of becoming a god.’”

“And that process is the mysterious part.”

“Exactly.”

She clutched her head and groaned as if the complexity was giving her a migraine.

“Well, unless I actually experiment with it, it’s hard to draw a solid conclusion. Anyway, that is my interpretation.”

“I see.”

“But it is definitely a bit strange, isn’t it? Last time, didn’t you receive a hint to reach the fifth level?”

“I did.”

“But you have already reached the fifth level, haven’t you?”

“I can utilize Mana Burn, which is exclusive to fifth-level mages, so I suppose I am at the entry stage.”

Before traveling to the past, Alon had already attained the fifth level.

“Do you have any sense of what path you need to take next? You don’t, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“……Are the hints not connected to each other?”

The discussion between Penia and Alon dragged on, and their concerns deepened.

Exactly one week later.

Alon had spent the time either with the children or analyzing spells with Penia. At night, he also listened to Magrina or engaged in brief conversations with Rine. Because he was so occupied, the week flew by in the blink of an eye.

“Everyone, move out!”

The time had finally come to march toward the final battlefield. The army and the civilians began to move, effectively abandoning the capital. This mass migration was necessary because the World Tree was located beyond the Alliance’s capital. Fearing a massacre, most of the civilians who had remained in the capital decided to join the movement.

Watching the seemingly endless procession in silence—

“Let’s go, godfather.”

“Yes.”

Alon soon joined the column.

‘About two weeks left now.’

Just as Alon recalled the intelligence he had received earlier—

“Come to think of it, Marquis,”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“I never really thought about it until now, but where did he go?”

“……?”

“… Basiliora, I mean.”

“Ah.”

At Penia’s casual question, Alon let out a quiet sound of realization. Penia quickly turned her head left and right, scanning their immediate surroundings.

“I mean, you said Blackie has been asleep since earlier, so I didn’t think much of it, but Basiliora hasn’t even shown his nose.”

It was just as Penia said. Blackie had appeared a few times after their arrival in the past—mostly to sleep—but Basiliora was even more elusive. He hadn’t appeared at all since they arrived in this timeline.

Alon immediately checked the ring.

“?”

The ring appeared the same as always. He poured mana into it. Yet, there was no discernible change.

‘What is this?’

Alon stared at the ring for a long moment, his eyes filled with suspicion.

The allied forces advanced steadily toward the World Tree.

Exactly two weeks after the march began, they arrived at Greynifra, the land of the elves where the World Tree stood. Everything had proceeded as expected. Thanks to Yongrin’s sacrifice, they reached the World Tree in time. Even though the World Tree had suffered significant damage, it still maintained its form.

However, there was one variable—

One thing they had not predicted.

“H-How did Baarma’s followers…!”

It was Baarma’s cultists.

They should not have been able to enter Greynifra in the first place—yet they had established a camp as if they had been awaiting the allied army’s arrival.

And as if that were not enough—

“Baarma…!”

Baarma himself appeared.

The god who fed on the lives and fears of other races to grow in strength. Seated on a grotesque throne adorned with flesh and bones, exuding a vicious madness—he looked down upon the allied army.

“Uwaaah—”

“B-Baarma is here…!”

“H-He shouldn’t be able to enter right now…”

“How in the world…”

The allied army instantly fell into chaos at his mere presence. Baarma, lounging on the grotesque throne, twisted his lips into a smile.

His appearance was truly monstrous. His massive body, nearly the size of Dowon’s, was covered in mouths screaming to be fed, ready to devour anything in sight. His abyss-like red reverse eyes instilled a hopeless fear in all who gazed into them.

Just as all eyes focused on Baarma—

Crunch—!

As his foot slowly descended, one cultist, who had been lying prostrate in worship, was crushed flat beneath it. A death so sudden and meaningless that it felt even more horrifying.

But no one dared to protest. The cultists only bowed lower in reverence. Their eerie fanaticism made the atmosphere feel even heavier.

At last.

[Welcome, my feast.]

Baarma’s voice rang out.

The allied forces clearly heard the word he used to describe them, spoken from his twisted mouth. Not “enemies,” but “feast.”

Baarma rested his chin on his hand and continued—

[Such fine faces. Perfectly mouthwatering expressions for my final banquet.]

He spoke with arrogance.

“……How is this possible~?”

Surang muttered blankly, and Baarma mocked him.

[So curious, are you? Wondering how I got in here even after Yongrin’s sacrifice? Or is it that you’re shocked I was waiting, knowing you’d come here?]

He sneered wider.

[The answer is simple. His sacrifice, as a living offering, has long lost its power.]

“A living offering?”

[Yes. It took quite a few offerings to dull that power. Thanks to that, I couldn’t even eat them—I had to use them all up on that place.]

T-!

|-!

Along Baarma’s lips, the mouths scattered across his body bared sharp teeth and burst into mocking laughter. Surang clenched his fists tightly.

“Then why haven’t you attacked—”

But his voice soon trailed off.

Alon, too, remained silent. He knew the answer. He had already experienced something similar. He knew why Baarma didn’t just kill them immediately, why he left them with a sliver of hope.

He had been told. By Baarma’s apostle.

[Heh—]

Perhaps realizing the reason for Surang’s silence, Baarma rose from his throne and began walking toward the World Tree.

With every step he took, the prostrated cultists beneath him were crushed brutally to death. Yet none who had their foreheads pressed to the ground rose up. They remained unmoving.

A chillingly devout fanaticism pressed down harder and harder on the air around them.

And finally—Baarma reached the front of the World Tree and brushed it with his hand. Though it had once burned, the tree still held onto life. The massive tree, far larger than himself, was caressed again and again by Baarma.

[This is your hope, isn’t it?]

He looked at the allied army and smiled.

CRACK—!

He thrust his giant hand into the World Tree.

CRUNCH—CRACKLEEEE~!

In that instant, the tree, which had retained at least half its vitality, began to swell rapidly—

KA-KA-KA-KA-KABOOM—!!!

And it exploded into pieces.

So suddenly. So effortlessly.

“……”

No one could even exhale. The allied army’s gaze simply drifted aimlessly into the air. Shards of the once-mighty World Tree scattered in every direction, falling with a thunderous noise.

The tree was completely and utterly destroyed.

Next to it, Baarma smiled in near ecstasy.

Only then—

“Ah~”

A quiet sigh escaped someone’s lips. It was a sigh of helplessness.

And in that moment, within the despair where everything had gone exactly as Baarma intended—as he stared at the shattered fragments of the World Tree—only Alon came to a realization.

He instinctively reached into his pocket. And he fidgeted with it.

That object which had long been resting inside his pocket.