Raising Villains the Right Way

There were only four years left until the start of the original story.

At the same time, it had been just over a year and one month since all the members of the Five Sins who had been in the orphanage became independent.

“What is Seolrang up to?”

Alon, who was looking at the letter from Yutia that had arrived today as usual, suddenly grew curious about Seolrang.

Although Yutia’s letters always included stories about her and the other members of the Five Sins, there hadn’t been a single mention of Seolrang since about two months after her independence.

“…No way, she didn’t die in some distant place, did she?”

After pondering for a moment, Alon shook his head resolutely.

According to Yutia’s previous letters, Seolrang had already arrived in the desert nation. If she had followed the letter’s instructions correctly, there was no way she would die in such a manner.

The gift Alon had given her would turn her into a formidable ‘Baba Yaga.’

That, too, as a gladiator in the Colony, where the strong could gain everything.

“It was even written in the item description. It must be correct, right?”

Alon, who liked to read through every detail of item descriptions—thanks to the developer’s habit of filling them with various bits of lore—recalled the phrase written in the item Seolrang would acquire.

“If the Sin of Greed had obtained it, they would have fallen and become a Sin, but instead, she would become a great warrior… I think that was it.”

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Of course, the effect Alon received when he used that item was merely a 20% increase in critical hit rate, but the grand background story that came with it was why he had told Seolrang its location.

Furthermore, in case the item description turned out to be something truly insignificant, he also included the location of a hidden treasure.

But it had been nine months since he last heard from her.

“Maybe I should’ve just given her the treasure quietly?”

As Alon considered this, he shook his head briefly.

The reason he had sent Seolrang to the Colony in the first place was because of the narration claiming she had the talent of a warrior.

Moreover, since Alon couldn’t support her for her entire life, becoming independent was a crucial process.

“No, it’s better if she can make a living on her own.”

Therefore,

‘…Considering Deus’s absurd talent, Seolrang surely hadn’t died… but what on earth happened?’

While Alon wore a strange expression, pondering Seolrang’s whereabouts, in a desert cave deep within the southern region of the desert nation Colony, a girl emerged.

The girl, Seolrang, looked disheveled.

Dirt clung to various parts of her body, and her hair had grown so long it almost covered her face.

However, unlike her appearance, Seolrang’s face bore a wide smile.

“It’s finally over—”

Stretching with a sense of liberation, she looked at the gloves on her hands.

The golden claws adorned on them were a gift bestowed upon her by the Great Moon.

The ‘Essence of the Golden Mane Tribe.’

“How could the Great Moon know where this was?”

After finishing the ‘trial’ and emerging, she tilted her head in curiosity while gazing at the gloves.

And rightly so—this ‘Essence of the Golden Mane Tribe’ was a legendary artifact that had been passed down through her people, the Golden Mane Tribe, for generations.

It was truly deserving of the title “legendary.”

Hundreds of years ago, this item had empowered the Golden Mane Tribe, allowing them to ascend as the rulers of all beastmen and granting them the power to become kings.

Of course, most of what she knew came from tales her mother had told her when she was very young. Having matured somewhat since then, Seolrang had assumed those old stories were exaggerated to some extent.

But now, in this moment, having worn the Essence and been pulled into the inner world to undergo all the trials, Seolrang realized that not a single part of those fantastical old tales was a lie.

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Ssss—

As she lightly drew out her power, her golden eyes began to glow softly within the dark cave.

And that wasn’t all.

Her hair, and even her tail, began to shimmer as if they were radiating light.

Just like the Golden Mane Tribe of ancient legends that her mother used to tell her about.

Smiling at her newfound power, her thoughts drifted once again to the Great Moon.

There were countless questions swirling in her mind.

But she soon dismissed them.

She knew she wasn’t particularly intelligent, and she was well aware that it was beyond her to deduce how the Great Moon knew all these things.

Most importantly, she realized one simple, clear truth.

The Great Moon was her savior, the one who had rescued her from dying as a result of bio-experiments, and at the same time, the one to whom she owed a debt for granting her the power to exact revenge on the ‘Black Dragon’ who had killed her parents.

As blue electricity crackled around her, she thought of the Great Moon’s command, but soon shook her head.

Even if she wasn’t particularly smart, she knew that becoming a mere gladiator wasn’t the true purpose of her benefactor’s will.

Thus, Seolrang’s gaze naturally shifted to the gloves.

The gloves that held the power to empower the Golden Mane Tribe.

It was only then that Seolrang finally grasped the Great Moon’s intention.

“To become a famous gladiator, gather the scattered members of the Golden Mane Tribe from across the land, and…”

She grinned.

“…kill the Black Dragon with them.”

Seeing the perfect answer before her, Seolrang smiled.

Zap!

Blue sparks flew everywhere in response to her emotions, but she paid them no mind.

With a deep smile, she began walking out of the dark cave. The moon hung in the sky where she emerged from the cave, bathing the entire desert in a blue glow.

And then,

“For the sake of that one,”

muttering the phrase that had become a habitual chant by now,

“Let’s begin.”

The Golden Mane Tribe, who had been known as the greatest beastmen and the kings of all beastmen 500 years ago, began their revival under the blue moon.

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***

Starting from about a year ago, after returning from the ball, Alon had found a new interest in exploring “phrases” and had been investing a significant amount of time in it.

Unlike in the game, where chanting phrases consumed a turn and each turn increased magical attack power by 10% to 20%, the phrases in this world indeed altered the properties of magic, just as he had predicted.

Take, for example, the phrases Alon used several months ago in a place he visited to obtain restrictions—phrases like “Refraction,” “Repulsion,” “Blue Light,” and “Diffraction Line.”

Refraction strengthened the instability of a completed spell, causing its range to expand.

Repulsion distorted the form of the spell, allowing the transferred projectile to shift.

In the case of Blue Light, it amplified spells conducted in parallel, like lightning magic.

Lastly, the Diffraction Line granted a spell penetration or critical properties.

Of course, Alon’s understanding was based only on the data he had accumulated over the past six months, so the accuracy of these interpretations was still uncertain, but it was clear that each phrase endowed a different property.

Additionally, he had figured out several unique rules regarding phrases.

“Using the same phrase repeatedly is prohibited, using phrases incompatible with the spell is forbidden, and no more than five phrases can be used in a single spell. If any of these three rules are broken, the spell either fails to manifest or becomes weakened.”

There seemed to be a few other rules as well, but he hadn’t figured those out yet.

Although Alon had plenty of time to explore magic, he could only use magic once per day.

“…If only there were a book about phrases.”

The phrases Alon used were, according to the lore, the forgotten phrases of Babel, considered to be akin to lost relics in this world.

The places where Alon had found phrases were limited to those that had phrases inscribed, but they did not explain the rules or phenomena behind them.

In other words, he had to discover everything through direct experimentation, but Alon didn’t find this bothersome.

Alon’s talent was enough to make his exploration of phrases enjoyable and to immerse him in the study of magic.

Thus, after finishing his conversation with Evan, he came straight to the training hall and, as usual, began casting a spell.

“Hoo—”

His hand formed the familiar sign of wisdom, the Jiquan Mudra.

Simultaneously, the magic gathered to form the spell he had been experimenting with for about two months, a second-tier spell called Chain Lightning.

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Following Alon’s thoughts, the arranged mana formed a spherical orb, deliberately leaving out a specific point to create imbalance.

Zap—

The spell completed.

With Alon’s limited mana, the magic emitted a faint glow.

The only improvement from two months ago was that the imbalance caused by the lightning spell had become slightly more refined, likely due to his growing familiarity with it.

To put it nicely, the spell had become more precise; to put it bluntly, it was still just a useless spell that was only good for its precision.

However, by chanting the phrases, even a useless spell could be given a purpose.

“Fixation.”

The lightning that had been crackling before him froze in place, as if time itself had stopped.

“Compression.”

At his next muttering, the once large sphere shrank into a small bead while remaining frozen in place.

“Collapse.”

Crack!

With the final phrase, the once small bead lost its form as a sphere.

What remained was pure lightning, a fragment of mana appearing before Alon like countless irregular dotted lines gathered together.

And then,

“Momentary Bloom.”

As Alon muttered the final phrase, releasing the Jiquan Mudra he had been holding,

Zap!

—a massive tree of thunder materialized before him.

Radiating a brilliance more dazzling than the midday sun, the blue tree stood still, flaunting its presence.

It was as if lightning had struck and was frozen in place.

Alon nodded in satisfaction.

“…The order of the phrases also changes the spell’s manifestation.”

He recalled how, when he had used Collapse before Fixation in his previous spell, the magic had disappeared without a trace, and he nodded contentedly.

“Even phrases that don’t match the spell can be used if there’s a prior phrase that leads into them.”

Satisfied with the new information he had gained, Alon confirmed that the tree of thunder he had created was gradually fading away.

Though it seemed unlikely that he would ever have a use for it.

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Muttering this, Alon felt a pang of regret as he turned around, his mana hole now completely drained.

His body only allowed him to cast magic once a day.

And just as he turned around,

“?”

Alon saw her.

There, in the training hall of Count Palatio’s estate, stood a young lady he never wanted to get close to—Lady Kalia, the daughter of the Count of Zenonia.

Seemingly shocked by the situation, the usually noble and refined Kalia stood with her mouth agape, an expression of genuine surprise.

“M-M-My goodness…?”

Hearing her shocked voice, Alon turned his gaze away, missing his chance to ask why she was there.

“Origin?”

Standing next to her, a middle-aged man, his mouth also wide open in shock, was holding an ornate cane as he stared at Alon with a similarly astonished expression.

And then,

“?”

Alon, confused by the two’s reactions, came to a sudden realization.

He had heard the man mention “Origin,” a spell that could only be cast by mages who had reached the seventh rank, and then understood one thing.

He had somehow become the subject of a massive misunderstanding.