Raising Villains the Right Way

“What did you just say?”

Alon was momentarily stunned by Deus’s words.

The news he had just heard was that shocking.

“Eliban has become a Sin.”

But asking again wouldn’t change what came out of Deus’s mouth.

“Can you explain the situation in detail first?”

Alon sighed, calming his confused mind.

He needed to grasp the situation before reacting.

“According to the current report—”

Amid the heavy atmosphere, Alon quietly listened to Deus’s explanation.

When the report was over, his headache grew worse.

“So, he awakened as a Sin by killing all the nobles who attended the ball in Tern? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

Alon recalled Eliban’s face.

“This wasn’t in the cards at all.”

He knew that anyone could become a Sin.

He had seen it happen before.

But still—

That the final Sin would be Eliban...

He couldn’t have imagined it.

Eliban stood as the polar opposite of Sin—he was the protagonist of Psychedelia.

“Haah...”

Alon rubbed his eyes and tried to cool his heated head.

If Deus’s words were true, then what’s done was done.

There was no way to undo it now.

Suddenly, an image of Eliban from the recent ball came to mind.

Like the boy he once knew—

He had smiled brightly.

—Omniscient and omnipotent?

—Well, that’s a quality a god possesses. I meant what’s important when one is ‘becoming’ a god.

—Becoming a god, you mean—

—Shall I tell you?

—What is it?

—Imprint..

—Imprint?

—It’s about how one is perceived, as a being.

The next thing that surfaced in Alon’s mind was their last conversation.

At the time, it had seemed random—irrelevant to anything.

But now that Eliban had become a Sin, the meaning behind his words resurfaced vividly.

Why had Eliban said such a thing?

Why...

As the thought clicked into place, Alon snapped out of his daze and spoke again.

“Deus.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember when Eliban’s birthday party in Tern took place?”

“Two days ago, I believe.”

“Two days...”

From what Alon knew, the Sin of Wrath would fully manifest within two months.

Meaning, he had fifty-eight days left.

But Alon knew he couldn’t afford to think of it as having that much time.

He had already learned—this world no longer followed game logic.

And since Eliban had become a Sin, his nature could have changed in unpredictable ways.

In other words, the time he had left might be far shorter than expected.

With that in mind, Alon began to estimate the Sin’s power.

As far as he knew, Sins were inherently powerful, but their strength also depended on the body they possessed.

And now, the final Sin had taken the body of Eliban—the hero of Psychedelia himself.

That alone meant this Sin would surpass all others.

“If that’s the case, then his strength must be...”

“Marquis!”

As Alon’s thoughts deepened, someone called out urgently.

He looked up to see Evan rushing into the tent, breathless.

It was clear from his expression that something was very wrong.

Before Alon could ask what happened—

“Ashtalon has fallen...!”

“What?”

“Exactly as I said! Ashtalon has been destroyed... by Eliban, the one who became a Sin!”

Alon didn’t ask again.

He just let out a hollow laugh.

“Ha.”

***

Three days had passed since the capital of Ashtalon was annihilated by the Sin of Wrath.

The kings of the Allied Kingdom convened an emergency meeting at the Magic Tower, where all mages’ guilds gathered.

Of course, not every monarch was physically present.

Three days was enough time for rumors to spread, but far too little for rulers to travel and assemble.

Thus, instead of appearing in person, the kings used the help of the towers—who shared their sense of urgency.

With the combined power of the Green and Brown Towers, they joined the conference via magical avatars.

For both the mages and the monarchs witnessing it for the first time, the sight was extraordinary.

Dozens of resonating magic circles filled the chamber, their complexity and brilliance beyond description.

Yet despite the spectacle, no one uttered a word of admiration.

The situation was far too grave.

“So, what do you propose we do?”

The first to break the silence was Carmaxes III.

“What do you mean?”

“At this point, what else is there but that monster in Ashtalon?”

“I know that. What I’m asking is—what should we do about him?”

At that, King Palmarian replied dryly.

“Isn’t it obvious? We must eliminate that creature. Mobilize the troops.”

“Do you really think that kind of monster can be ‘eliminated’ by sending soldiers?”

The rebuttal came instantly.

Carmaxes III fell silent, his eyes turning toward the magical sphere projecting the live feed.

The first thing visible was the ruin of Ashtalon’s capital—utterly shattered.

And across its remains, a single enormous scar stretched like a wound carved by wrath itself.

And next—

“No matter how many times I see it,” someone muttered, “it’s revolting.”

A mountain of corpses had been formed right in the heart of the capital.

It looked as if slaughtered livestock had been piled together.

All throughout the capital, heaps of bodies had risen, and red blood flowed endlessly from them, staining the ruins a dark, crimson hue.

The kings turned their eyes toward the magic orb and all frowned at once.

The mages maintaining the spirit projection spell and the tower lords quietly observing the conference also showed the same reaction.

That was how horrific the scene on the screen was—like a vision of hell itself.

But even more suffocating than that terrible sight was the information being shared in the chamber.

One noble had miraculously survived the massacre.

The single message delivered by Filian Merkiliane was this—

“One strike.”

That one fact plunged the entire conference room into despair.

“No matter how you look at it, a single strike destroying an entire kingdom—surely that’s an exaggeration?”

The king of Raksas, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke up.

But Queen Siyan of Asteria replied calmly.

“It doesn’t seem like an exaggeration to me.”

“...Why is that?”

“Because we’re not talking about ordinary soldiers here. Filian Merkiliane of Ashtalon was a man who had already reached the realm of mastery. No matter how terrified he was, someone of his level wouldn’t distort his own memories.”

“Besides,” she added quietly, “we can see the proof with our own eyes right there in the orb.”

That vast scar stretching from left to right across the capital’s ruins.

Her words left the room in complete silence.

No one could bring themselves to argue, for they all knew inwardly that what she said was likely true.

“But even if our opponent is that powerful, we can’t just stand by and do nothing, can we?”

“I agree, but do you truly believe gathering our armies will allow us to defeat that thing?”

“So you’re suggesting we just sit here and watch? We have no idea where that creature will strike next! Or do you think Raksas is safe simply because it’s an island?”

“I’d suggest you watch your words.”

The voices of King Carmaxes III and the King of Raksas gradually grew louder.

Yet no one else dared to speak.

Everyone present understood that both sides had a point.

The being who had wiped out Ashtalon overnight—the one who appeared to be Eliban, once called a “Hero”—didn’t seem like a monster that could be slain merely by sending an army.

Still, doing nothing was not an option either.

At this rate, the monster that appeared in Ashtalon less than half a day after the Tern ball could surface anywhere next.

“If we gather every soldier we have and send them all at once, what happens if that thing moves and attacks somewhere else? We’d be finished!”

“That’s why we must strike first—mobilize quickly before that happens! Sitting on our hands won’t solve anything!”

Despite hours of debate, their opinions refused to align.

The atmosphere in the chamber grew more and more tense.

Finally, when the representative of Rosarion, Yuman, let out a deep sigh—

Creaaak.

The conference room doors suddenly swung open.

The noise died instantly.

Every gaze turned toward the source of the sound.

And there stood—

“...Marquis Palatio?”

Marquis Palatio stood quietly in the doorway.

He didn’t say a word as his calm, unreadable eyes swept across the room.

Then—

Step, step—

He walked inside without a word.

No change in expression.

No greeting.

Just quiet, deliberate composure, as if none of that was necessary.

When Alon finally reached the center of the chamber, he turned his eyes toward the magical display.

A vision of hell unfolded before him.

Those who followed his gaze stiffened at the gruesome sight.

But Alon, seemingly unaffected, walked toward the orb.

Voooom—

He placed his hand on the sphere, and the horrifying image vanished as he shut down the device.

“...?”

The kings looked at him in disbelief.

“Marquis Palatio, what do you think you’re doing?”

Their resentment was only natural.

No matter how renowned Alon was, this was a royal council—a meeting of the kings of the united realms to decide matters of state.

He hadn’t asked for permission to attend, and as a mere noble, barging in and acting as he pleased was tantamount to open disrespect.

“No matter how lofty your reputation may be, this is clearly out of line—”

“To act so boldly just because of your own strength—”

But before the rebuke could continue, Alon spoke.

“There is a way to deal with that thing.”

At those words, every mouth fell silent.

“If my presence is uncomfortable, I’ll leave.”

That passive threat was enough to make the two kings who had scolded him shrink back under the others’ stares.

“N-no, that’s not what we meant...”

“Yes, yes, what we meant was—Marquis Palatio certainly has the right to speak here.”

They hurriedly corrected themselves, trying to save face.

And as they stumbled over their own words—

“Then, I’ll begin,” Alon said, opening the discussion in earnest.

***

At that same time—

Inside the royal castle of Fildagreen—

“The Imperial Guardian Weapon of Illanef.”

Rine, who had been reading in the Eternal Library moments earlier, murmured in disbelief.

“...A Sin?”

She whispered the word she had just uncovered in her research.