I Became the Patron of Villains (Novel) - Chapter 93 - Artificial (4)
Chapter 93 – Artificial (4)
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Translated by Jinmu
Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net
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As far as Alon knew, Chief Cardinal Anderde was a figure who had not existed in the original story.
Even if he had existed, he was at least a character whose face had never once appeared in Psychedelia.
So unlike the expressionless face he showed outwardly, Alon’s mind was turning ceaselessly.
Did it always go like this originally? Or has it changed?
Even if he thought that, it gave him no answer.
What he knew only began one year later. He had no way of knowing what had happened before that point.
He turned his gaze to Yuman.
The man who, in the future, had the duty to save the world together with Elivan and thereby guarantee Alon’s comfortable life had used holy power to block Anderde’s attack.
As expected of a saint. He can use holy power without even a sign of the cross or a prayer.
Recalling that every one of Yuman’s skills in the game had been instant and had consumed no turn at all, Alon let out a relieved breath and thought,
At least that is fortunate.
Naturally, the original reason Alon had come rushing out here using Raijin Form in the first place had also been to save Yuman, the man who was supposed to guarantee his peaceful future.
If this was something that had always been meant to happen, then Yuman would naturally survive.
But if this was not something that had originally happened, then he could have died.
…Well, in the end, by the time Alon used magic, Yuman had already blocked the attack properly, so instead of protecting him, Alon had used the chance to put Anderde out of action.
Even so,
Alon could feel it instinctively.
This still was not over.
“…You were Marquis Palladio, was it?”
Chief Cardinal Anderde, one arm blown away by Alon’s Raijin Form and half his face charred black, opened his mouth with difficulty.
Yet the benevolent smile still remained at the corners of his mouth.
Even though his wounds were not merely enough to disable him but enough to kill him, the smile did not disappear.
As if he felt no pain.
No.
“…”
As if it had been painted on.
“Yes.”
The moment Alon answered, the priests who had been staring blankly in shock until a moment earlier began to pray.
At the same time, swords were drawn from the waists of the holy knights and signs of the cross were traced.
The cardinals who had barely escaped death clearly judged Anderde to be a heretic and raised holy power.
Yet even in that situation, he merely looked down at Alon from below the platform with that painted benevolent smile and said,
“Excellent. Truly excellent.”
Suddenly, he spoke those words.
“What…?”
By the time Alon asked back, the clergy had already finished their prayers and were launching their attacks at Anderde.
One fired arrows of light.
Another hurled a mace.
Another a sword.
Another lightning.
Another holy power itself.
All of it poured down on Anderde.
There was a thunderous roar.
Lightning made of holy power fell from the sky.
White sacred spells, holding the blue moon within them, came pouring down all at once.
Like a downpour.
And like a meteor shower.
A tremendous amount of holy magic crashed down upon the platform where Anderde stood.
Even Alon felt awe without meaning to at the sheer violence of holiness being made real before his eyes.
And at the end of that explosive barrage of holy power, when the platform collapsed, what was revealed was
“…”
Anderde standing there with his entire body shattered.
Both arms were gone.
Several huge holes had been blasted through his torso.
The upper part of his head had been blown off.
It was effectively a condition that had already been sentenced to certain death.
And yet Anderde’s benevolent smile remained.
Shock filled the eyes of the gathered priests, cardinals, and Yuman alike.
“It would have been a waste. Your rank is quite excellent.”
Anderde murmured that with the same calm face.
“I did not want to lose it.”
And with that,
crack.
a very strange sound began to come from Anderde.
It was a disgusting sound, as if something were forcing its way through something else.
And together with it, red branches began sprouting and growing from the body of the Anderde who had until a moment earlier still worn that benevolent smile.
Kuguguguguk!
From his position as the center point, the great square where the priests stood split cleanly in a straight line.
“Aaaah!”
“Run! Hurry!”
The instant the ground split, the priests screamed and moved.
What came up while smashing the square into chaos was an enormous mass of tree trunks.
Dozens and hundreds of blood-red branches burst up through the stone floor.
And from the great split that ran beyond the square and all the way into the white city of the inner district,
Kwagagagagak!
it began to reveal its shape.
The first thing to appear was two grotesque hands writhing with red vines.
Then came the head of a giant statue that seemed to be being born at the cost of devouring the white city.
And after that, the enormous statue’s body pulled itself out.
At that moment,
everyone there realized something.
The Anderde who had been smiling benevolently in front of them just a moment ago had been nothing but a puppet.
Kagagagak!
At last Anderde’s body, now flowering with countless branches, was sucked into the statue in an instant.
Kwagak!
At the same time, the face of the giant statue in the shape of a human split into four parts like a flower blooming, and from between them countless red branches rose up.
And finally, after devouring the entire eastern section of the white city, the thing fully emerged.
[In accordance with your will, I have descended.]
Looking down toward the place where the priests stood, it opened its mouth.
[Worship.]
And thus it announced its own birth to all of them.
[Me, Machina, god of mankind.]
An Outer God had descended.
* * *
The priests.
The holy knights.
The cardinals.
Yuman.
All stared blankly at the Outer God that had descended beneath the blue moon.
At the thing that had crawled out while swallowing the white city and was now spreading branches everywhere as if to devour what remained of it as well.
Alon was no different.
Machina…?
Alon felt confusion.
He had never even heard of an Outer God called Machina.
Of course, this point in time lay outside the era he had originally known well, but even taking that into account, the being before his eyes was plainly alien.
What in the world…!
Amid that confusion, as Alon watched Machina, he soon realized one thing.
From the giant’s entire body, from the branches to the waist and beyond, there was black smoke flowing out.
It was too familiar.
Abyssal Cores…?
The keyword occurred to him involuntarily, and Alon remembered the information he had heard before.
That the Abyssal Cores, which granted godhead to those above a certain level of strength, had entered the Holy Kingdom.
With that, he realized that the thing before him had been made from Abyssal Cores.
“…An artificial Outer God?”
As Alon muttered out its nature without thinking,
“L-look there!”
“T-the people!”
he followed the horrified cries of the priests and looked beneath the giant Outer God.
There were people there.
Subjects of the Holy Kingdom hanging limp, trapped in red vines.
[Do not reject this. I act only to care for you all equally.]
The voice that rang out sounded holy,
and for that very reason was all the more grotesque.
Then the red vines began creeping toward the priests.
“Stop them!”
The holy knights charged toward the advancing red vines and began cutting down the writhing branches.
Soon the sacred spells of the priests streaked through the blue night and slammed into the Outer God.
In an instant the same scene as before, the one even Alon had felt awe toward, was recreated.
Grgrgrk! Boom!
One of Machina’s arms, which only moments earlier had radiated overwhelming power, fell away.
At that sight, the priests’ eyes lit with hope and fighting spirit.
But that spirit did not last long.
“I-it is regenerating!?”
Because something unbelievable happened.
The arm that had obviously been shattered by the meteor-shower-like bombardment of holy power was regenerating.
As if it were nothing.
At incredible speed.
As if blood vessels were being woven, hundreds of branches intertwined and instantly restored the arm.
The priests stared at the grotesque scene in shock.
“Aaaah!”
The holy knights who had been cutting down the red vines at the square were being overwhelmed one by one.
Those seized by the red vines had crimson branches sprout over their bodies and in an instant were reduced to bundles of wood.
“!”
Fear spread among the holy knights.
Like a plague, it spread equally to everyone present.
And then, after instantly devouring the holy knights, the vines finally reached the priests and tried to seize those who remained.
At that moment,
hwaaaaaak!
a huge barrier blocked the vines.
“Tch!”
It was Yuman who had stopped them.
Wrapped from head to toe in a quantity of holy power none could imitate, he erected a vast wall of sacred power and won the priests’ awe.
But unfortunately, Yuman’s expression was not bright.
Even for a saint, the wall of holy power he had created, impossibly huge though it was, was consuming his stamina by the second.
And then,
[Though I came preaching equality to bestow equality, you are terribly ignorant.]
The moment a huge hand lifted high into the blue,
the priests saw it.
That hand, which had not been nearly large enough to cover the blue moon, grew enormous as hundreds of red branches tangled together until it looked ready to consume the moon itself.
“Sironia…”
At that sight the priests called on the goddess without thinking.
The cardinals sighed in despair.
And Yuman, who was maintaining the vast barrier,
What is that?
looked up at the giant hand with eyes full of emptiness and despair.
[Accept me. I am the human god you created.]
[I shall deal with you all equally.]
The giant hand,
together with Machina’s voice,
began to fall toward the wall Yuman had created.
Clink.
At the same time as a quiet sound of something breaking and a small sigh,
Yuman turned around with difficulty.
There he saw
“Hold on just a little longer.”
Marquis Palladio, no, the Hidden Saint,
who was draining another potion while crushing an emptied bottle underfoot, still wearing the same impassive face even in this desperate situation.
“Can you do it?”
At the words that followed,
“I-I will try.”
Yuman answered as if entranced.
Then the Hidden Saint,
no, Alon,
“It would be best if you opened the top of the barrier as well.”
after checking the white-glowing necklace hanging from his neck once,
“Array of Thunder.”
spoke the phrase.
Crackle.
Lightning holding the blue moon within it began to crackle over his body.