I Became the Patron of Villains (Novel) - Chapter 24 - Grand Temple Assembly (4)

Chapter 24 – Grand Temple Assembly (4)

===================

Translated by Jinmu

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

===================

“This suddenly? And more importantly, why Caliburn of all places?”

Evan asked with open confusion, then paused to think. A moment later his face changed.

“Don’t tell me. You’re planning to head north?”

He had realized that Caliburn was the kingdom closest to the northern barbarian lands.

“I’ll explain on the way. Get things ready first. And the extra information I asked you to confirm. That was correct?”

“…If you mean the person you mentioned before, then yes. The information guild says that person is in that village.”

Evan still looked uneasy.

“Then we stop there first and head straight to Caliburn after that.”

Alon’s tone was firm.

Evan stared at him for a moment with his usual mix of curiosity and resignation, then left the room to carry out the order.

“Ha…”

Left alone, Alon let out a long sigh and covered his face with one hand.

The descent of an Outer God was exactly the sort of catastrophe he would have preferred never to see.

Outer Gods.

Across the continent of Psychedelia, they were called by many names. Like the Five Great Sins, they were calamities that harmed the world simply by descending into it.

For Alon, they were also beings capable of utterly shattering his future plans the moment they arrived.

Once they fully descended and began running wild, one or two kingdoms could vanish as if it were nothing.

There were six kingdoms on this continent.

That meant there was roughly a one-third chance that his noble title would disappear and he would end up living as a beggar.

At that point, being alive as a beggar might actually count as good fortune.

If an Outer God came for Asteria itself, Alon’s odds of survival would be laughably low.

If, by some miracle, it destroyed two other kingdoms instead of Asteria, that would be better for him. But even that would not be ideal.

If two kingdoms collapsed, the allied kingdoms would immediately begin to fall apart. The surviving kingdoms, corrupted by power from another world, would start tearing each other apart over ruined land that was no longer even worth holding.

And after tens of thousands of casualties and more than ten heroes ground down by the Outer Gods, the surviving kingdoms would weaken until the Empire swallowed them whole.

In other words, whether sooner or later, if the Outer Gods descended upon the allied kingdoms, he would still lose the noble life he wanted.

In some ways, the slower collapse would be worse.

A sudden annihilation would end everything at once.

A prolonged war would force him to get dragged into the conflict.

Someone might try to argue that perhaps the allied kingdoms would unite in the face of such a threat.

But Alon had played this game for a long time and seen hundreds of routes.

In every route where even one kingdom was destroyed by an Outer God or one of the Five Great Sins, the alliance collapsed.

Every time.

Minor things changed from one playthrough to another.

The collapse of the alliance never did.

Which meant that if he wanted to preserve his life plan, he had to stop the Outer God before it descended upon a kingdom.

“Hm.”

The moment he heard of the descent, he had already decided he would move.

He did have a method.

I need to do it within two months.

When Outer Gods first descended to the earth, they manifested only as heroic spirits. In that incomplete state, they could not use the full power of their true selves.

Only after a stabilization period of two months would they awaken fully as incarnate gods.

Which meant that before they became incarnate gods, they were at least somewhat easier to stop.

Somewhat easier did not mean weak.

Quietly, Alon reached into the dusty corner of his memory where most of the game’s old information had long since faded except for what was useful.

If it’s the north, then it should be Ultultus, the god of duels. Before full incarnation, he shouldn’t be able to use the Grand March, which helps. But even then, if you wanted to crush him through raw force the normal way, you’d need five Swordmasters and at least one archmage.

Alon slowly shook his head.

Naturally, gathering that kind of strength under the present circumstances was impossible.

Even so, his expression did not darken.

Ever since the monsters began showing signs of divine descent, he had half expected this to happen.

And because of that, he already had one plan for annihilating the Outer God.

Whether it works cleanly is another matter.

But he was in no position to fret over that now.

So after thinking that far, Alon opened a drawer in his room, took out writing paper, and immediately began composing a letter.

Ten minutes later, he rose from his seat.

I should bring a gift too.

He had finished writing the letter to the Master Knight in Caliburn, Deus Makalian.

That late afternoon, with two days of the banquet still remaining, Count Palladio left Duke Rotegre’s castle.

* * *

That night.

In one of the side residences that House Rotegre had turned over in full to accommodate the normally inactive Duke Altia’s personal retinue, a woman who had only just arrived that day sat speaking with a man.

“So Count Palladio has already departed?”

“Yes.”

When the man, Marquis Mardanio, nodded, Duke Altia, Roria, spoke again.

“And how did it go?”

“Fortunately, he accepted the gifts.”

At that, Roria smiled.

“That is a relief.”

For nobles, gifts were usually ceremonial. Most carried little meaning.

But that only applied to very light gifts.

Once the object being given was an expensive item like a relic or artifact, meaning was always attached to it.

And in a case like this, where someone hoping to join a faction presented a gift to the faction’s new head, the meaning was singular.

Will you allow me into your faction?

Of course, asking directly would have been far simpler.

But noble society was built on appearances.

If you asked directly and were refused, you lost face.

So both the person asking and the person answering preferred an indirect method: a gift that functioned, in essence, like a bribe.

If the gift was accepted, that meant yes.

If it was not, that meant no.

Count Palladio, meaning Alon, knew none of this.

He had only attended one ball in his life, had no friends, and had a father who had died after spending the end of his life drugged out of his mind. In matters like this, he was astonishingly ignorant for a noble.

So when he accepted those gifts, it was not because he understood the message.

It was because he thought, If I realize what they meant later, it probably won’t matter. We won’t meet that often, and asking for them back after handing them over would be awkward anyway.

In short, he accepted them with every intention of quietly keeping them.

“Then we can formally say we share the same cause now.”

“It is an honor.”

“What about the others?”

“He accepted the gifts from the others who wished to align themselves with you as well.”

In any case, because Alon had accepted those gifts with all the shamelessness of a man planning to keep the loot, and because Duke Altia had already quietly indicated which nobles she wanted in place.

“…Then we can begin moving a little more seriously now.”

Roria smiled faintly.

The formation of the faction had now truly begun.

* * *

Exactly one week after leaving Rotegre territory, Alon arrived at a small northern village in Ashtalon called Parkran.

He had come for only one reason.

“Hello!”

He had come to meet the protagonist of the dark fantasy roguelike game Psychedelia.

“…Do you know who I am?”

“Um, no?”

By this point, the Five Great Sins had already been removed from the board. Strictly speaking, there was no longer any need for the protagonist to exist.

The reason Alon still wanted to meet him was simple.

The protagonist would become famous even without the Five Great Sins in play. And there was no harm in earning some goodwill in advance.

Of course, now that an Outer God had descended, Alon had also brought along a whole pile of items meant to help the boy’s early growth.

“…Elivan, correct?”

“Yes, that’s me!”

The boy smiled brightly enough that anyone looking at him would have found it refreshing.

For a boy, he’s absurdly pretty. Still, he matches the illustration.

In Psychedelia, the player’s choices could change the protagonist’s gender, so the thought only lingered for a moment. But Alon still felt a strange dissonance.

Was the protagonist always this cheerful?

Psychedelia was a dark fantasy game. Its protagonist, Elivan, was livelier than one might expect for such a setting, but Alon was fairly sure he had not been this bright.

Still, the thought passed quickly.

“Take this.”

With a vague expression that said close enough, Alon naturally pulled several gold coins from his pocket and handed them over.

“Huh? To me?”

The boy’s eyes went wide enough to resemble lanterns. For an ordinary household, even one coin was enough to live comfortably for about two months.

But Alon had no intention of stopping there.

He took Elivan aside and began handing over, one by one, all the items he had gathered for him over the last week, explaining each in turn.

After a lengthy explanation and the transfer of everything he had brought.

“…But why me, all of a sudden?”

Elivan asked with open confusion.

Alon considered for a moment, then answered:

“An investment.”

“An investment?”

“Yes. You’ll become someone important later.”

In truth, he also hoped that if more Outer Gods appeared in the future, the protagonist would end up dealing with them for him. But Alon saw no need to say that out loud.

“I am Count Palladio.”

Then, after making sure the boy knew the name of the sponsor he was meant to thank after succeeding, Alon climbed into the carriage without hesitation.

“Thank you, Sir, no, Count!”

The meeting and parting had happened so fast that Elivan still looked lost, but he bowed toward the departing carriage all the same.

A short while later:

“…I can roughly guess what you were trying to do, but isn’t this a little too much all at once?”

Evan spoke as he looked at Alon, who had swept through Elivan’s life like a storm and unloaded every last thing in a single burst.

“We don’t have time. And he’ll understand well enough. He’s clever.”

Alon answered while thinking of Elivan’s original character setting.

He had actually considered staying in the village for several days and building some rapport in a more natural way.

But unfortunately, he no longer had that kind of time.

Evan nodded in agreement.

“Well, I will say this. He definitely seemed talented. For a kid, the mana around him was dense.”

“…What? Mana?”

“Yes, mana. Didn’t you notice? It was practically creeping off him. And even though he was dressed like a village boy, he looked like he was carrying artifacts too.”

At that, Alon replayed the image of Elivan in his head.

I did feel a trace of mana. But before the adventure starts, Elivan is supposed to be nothing more than Village Boy A.

That was always how the game began.

If that setting was still accurate, then Elivan having mana and artifacts already was strange.

He frowned for a moment.

Then let it go.

He’s the protagonist. A little extra talent won’t kill anyone.

With that, Alon stopped thinking about Elivan.

He had already given him everything he could. If the protagonist turned out stronger than expected, that was only a good thing for Alon.

After all, Elivan of Psychedelia was one of the very few genuinely kind-hearted people in that brutal dark fantasy world.

So:

“How many days to Caliburn from here?”

“About a week, I think. Ten days if we’re slow.”

“…Hopefully I can get some help.”

Alon turned toward Caliburn with Evan’s answer in mind.

Meanwhile, in a great southern mansion in Caliburn, Deus, who had just returned from the northern campaign and had been preparing to head north again the next day because of the Outer God, finished reading a letter.

Then:

“Vice-commander.”

“Yes.”

“Postpone the northern expedition by two weeks.”

He gave the order immediately.

“May I ask the reason?”

Deus was silent for a moment.

Then he said quietly:

“My benefactor will be arriving soon.”