Became the Patron of Villains

“!!”

Alon opened his eyes to find himself in a pure white space where there was nothing at all.

He couldn’t tell which way was up or down.

He didn’t even know where he was standing—only that the space was endlessly white.

As he blankly gazed into that void, a thought passed through his mind.

‘Did I fail…?’

Failure.

In truth, death had already reached him at the final moment.

After using Reverse Heaven multiple times, his body could no longer endure another attempt.

He had completely exhausted the divine power needed to wield the divinity of the Primordial Elf.

And yet, he still used Reverse Heaven.

Not because he had accepted death, but because he had made a careful calculation.

‘I’m sure the divine power gathered at the last moment.’

When Alon recalled Eliban’s voice, the plan he had in mind was simple.

At the final moment, he would use Reverse Heaven and simultaneously gather the reverence of the surrounding soldiers to invoke the Primordial Elf’s divinity.

He believed that the troops there would provide at least the minimum divine energy necessary for him to channel that power.

That’s why, though he stood lost in thought for a brief moment—

“!”

He suddenly saw a familiar figure standing before him.

“Eliban?”

Eliban was standing there.

When Alon called his name, Eliban turned his gaze toward him as if he had been waiting.

His face looked no different from how Alon had last seen him.

A bright, carefree smile lingered at his lips.

His blue eyes, clear and deep, carried no trace of worry as they looked upon Alon.

“You…”

Alon opened his mouth but could not find the words.

He didn’t know where to begin or what to ask.

Should he ask if they were both dead?

Or where they were?

Or why Eliban had become sin itself?

His mind swirled in confusion.

But unfortunately, Alon didn’t have much time to think.

“I’m sorry. But for the sake of the ‘next,’ this was the only way. So please—”

Ah…

“I’m leaving the rest to you.”

Even the time given for that farewell was fleeting.

“Wait—!”

Alon shouted without thinking at Eliban’s farewell-like words.

He still hadn’t decided what to say.

He knew time was running out.

But if this truly was the end—

There was one thing he needed to say to Eliban.

“Thank you.”

Alon had always worked to prevent the world’s destruction, but he had never risked everything.

Even knowing that ruin was inevitable, he hadn’t staked his life on it.

And the reason was simple.

It was because of Eliban.

The protagonist of Psychedelia.

The hero destined to save the world.

Because Eliban existed, Alon could endure the crushing pressure of annihilation and still take one step back from despair.

That’s why he spoke from the heart.

For Alon, Eliban’s mere existence had been a source of comfort and relief—

A reassurance against the terror of the future.

Did that sincerity reach him?

Eliban gazed steadily at Alon.

His smile remained unchanged.

Only—

“Please don’t say that. Then as now, the one receiving help—”

He smiled a little wider.

“—has always been me.”

Just as Alon was about to smile back—

“—Father.”

“What?”

Agonizing pain tore through his entire body.

“Urgh—!?”

As the agony overwhelmed him, Alon’s eyes snapped open wide.

He bit down hard to stifle the scream rising from his throat as he forced himself to look ahead.

The abyss still loomed in the sky.

Within that abyss, the Milky Way still shimmered faintly.

The earth below had lost its jagged thorns and turned into a land of ashes.

And in that ashen world stood One Who Bears It.

His appearance had changed from before.

The armor he wore was shattered and broken.

The sword he had wielded was now half-destroyed, leaving only the hilt in his grasp.

He looked as though he could no longer continue fighting.

“Ah…”

Even as he took in the sight, Alon let out a low sigh.

One Who Bears It’s figure was utterly miserable.

Even the Sin that had been fighting beside him seemed unable to move, perhaps due to the damage One Who Bears It had sustained.

However—

Crack…

Alon saw it.

One Who Bears It’s body was slowly—barely—regenerating.

[Can you bear the burden of sin?]

As he wondered what he should do, the voice of Sin echoed once more.

Alon silently stared at him.

The words he spoke were the same as before.

Alon opened and closed his lips repeatedly.

He already knew what his answer should be.

Given the situation, there was really only one possible response.

Yet he hesitated.

Even knowing nothing at all—

He couldn’t be certain that agreeing to those words was truly the right choice.

As silence stretched on, One Who Bears It looked quietly at Alon and began to speak.

[We have taken countless lives.]

His tone was calm.

[There was a time when we filled the continent with the blood of those we took.]

Dispassionately, he continued.

[There was a time when we covered the land with the flesh of those we had slain.]

[Once, I beheaded a mother who held a broom to protect her child.]

[Once, I crushed the body of a son who raised a hoe to protect his aging mother.]

[Once, I burst the head of a priest who prayed to protect the orphans.]

[Once, I cleaved in half a soldier who charged forward to protect his lover.]

Once—

And once again—

Again and again.

One Who Bears It’s voice calmly carried the truth of all the sins he had committed.

There was no trace of pleasure in it.

There was no excitement.

No guilt.

No joy either.

What Alon felt from the voice of Sin, as it recounted the deaths of countless people, was an emotion too contradictory to define.

So deeply contradictory, in fact, that everyone present could only feel confusion for a moment.

[We killed those we were meant to protect.]

Duty.

That was what he felt.

“…Why?”

And then came the answer.

[To stop the Watchers.]

Alon’s eyes widened as he took in fragments of the truth.

[This world was created for the birth of a god.]

[That is the true nature of this world.]

Fragments of truth Alon had never known before poured into his ears.

[Therefore, this world itself can become ‘divine’ through belief.]

Something that could never be understood within Psychedelia.

[Every sentient being born on this continent exists solely to bring forth the birth of a god.]

Something he could never have realized, even after living here.

[And with the birth of that god—]

The truth of the world.

[—comes destruction.]

At those words that slipped quietly from One Who Bears It’s lips, Alon instinctively opened his mouth.

“There were already ‘gods’ in the previous world.”

[You mean what your kind calls the Age of Forgotten Gods?]

“Yes.”

[Those were not gods. Merely mutations that appeared within this world. No life born here can ever become divine.]

“Why?”

Alon’s question came instantly.

However—

[Because the life of this world was never created to become a god.]

The answer was so simple, so clear, that Alon was left speechless.

[The life of this world exists only to offer faith to the Watchers who descended upon it. That is our duty, nothing more.]

But—

[The one who awakened us discovered a truth even within the despair of this world.]

[That if the number of living beings does not surpass a certain threshold, the Watchers will not descend.]

“…Ah.”

A soft gasp escaped Alon’s lips.

‘What I wanted to protect was humanity.’

At that moment, the voice of Sloth echoed faintly in his mind, like a dying ember of memory.

And then—

Alon understood clearly.

The truth of this world.

[The Sins went mad.]

[Greed erased its own emotions in the agony of killing those it swore to protect.]

[Envy lost the ability to even maintain its own form.]

The truth of the Sins.

[Sloth turned its eyes away from the unbearable reality.]

[Pride, despite its noble origin, regressed into stupidity.]

One Who Bears It looked straight ahead, his expression calm.

[So I ask you again.]

[Can you bear the burden of sin?]

Once more, the question came.

Alon said nothing.

At first, he hadn’t understood what those words meant.

Even the second time, he couldn’t grasp it.

But this time—he understood.

He knew what One Who Bears It meant.

He knew what it meant to bear burden.

Sin had taken countless lives.

And through that, Sin itself had been broken.

Of course, none of their actions could ever be justified.

Even if those choices were made for the sake of the world.

Their deeds had given birth to fear and screams in countless hearts.

And yet, the Sins had borne the hatred and resentment of all living beings to sustain the world itself.

That was why the question was being asked.

Would he carry a world upheld by sin and resentment—

Shouldering the burden of those who destroyed life in order to preserve it—

And end this cycle of reincarnation?

Would he move forward to save the world, even knowing that if he failed, the weight of that burden would crush him completely?

That was the question.

Alon’s lips quivered.

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind.

The truth was, Alon had never once thought of taking on such a great responsibility.

Not when saving children.

Not when fighting the Outer Gods.

Not even when facing Sin itself.

His goal had never been grand.

He simply wanted to do what he could—

And, once the threat of destruction had passed, live a peaceful, happy life.

That was all.

…No. Perhaps that had changed a little.

Alon turned his gaze.

Behind him were familiar faces.

He saw Yutia.

He saw Deus.

Rine, Seolrang, and Radan were there too.

Ryanga, Historia, and Nangwon.

Even Magrina, though not physically present, was among them.

What Alon truly wanted—

Was to live peacefully with those with whom he had built bonds.

That was all.

Alon reaffirmed his purpose.

Even now, after everything that had happened, the word salvation still felt foreign to him.

The idea of “saving the world” still felt impossibly distant.

He was not a hero.

Nor was he a chosen warrior.

And yet, even so—

For that simple, humble wish of his—

There was only one thing he could do.

“Yeah.”

Alon nodded.

With unwavering eyes, he quietly faced One Who Bears It and declared his resolve.

And then—

[Is that so.]

One Who Bears It replied.

Calmly.

But with a strange sense of relief.

As though satisfied.

As though grateful.

[…If that is the choice you’ve made, then so be it.]

One Who Bears It’s body began to turn into gray dust and scatter into the wind.

Along with him, the Sins that had been frozen in place also crumbled into drifting ashes.

[Then I leave the rest… to you.]

At One Who Bears It’s words, Alon urgently raised his voice.

“…I have something I want to ask.”

[What is it?]

“The Watchers—who are they, really?”

At that question, One Who Bears It slowly lifted the half-broken sword he held.

Instinctively, Alon followed the motion with his gaze and looked upward.

The sky had, at some point, returned to its original form—a deep, serene night sky.

What he saw there was the Milky Way, stretching across the heavens in a river of light.

“…?”

A flicker of confusion crossed his face.

He followed the tip of the sword to the stars, but there was nothing there except the Milky Way—shining brightly, casting its silver light down upon the earth.

However—

[When one reaches the truth, there are things one can finally see.]

At those quiet words, Alon continued to stare blankly at the heavens.

And then, a distant memory surfaced.

‘…Does it look beautiful to you?’

The first time—

Back when he followed the Observer in Raksas.

Those wistful words spoken with an unreadable expression.

“When one reaches the truth, there are things one can finally see.”

The same words One Who Bears It was saying now.

And then—

[They have many names.]

“…?”

The world began to change.

[And many ways of being described.]

The beautiful Milky Way spread before Alon’s eyes began to shift and twist its form.

[The people of the ancient East called them the Executors of Providence.]

No.

[The ancient elves called them the Ones Who Stand Above the World Tree.]

No, that wasn’t it.

[The old kingdoms called them the Blood of the Gods. But the Illanef Empire, which uncovered their origin—and the Ghoul Blood that destroyed it—]

No.

[They called those who sought to use this world as a cradle for birth by another name.]

It wasn’t that the Milky Way was changing shape.

Rather—

“!”

It was that Alon was finally able to see the truth.

It wasn’t the Milky Way.

It wasn’t stars.

It was—

[Divine Blood.]

“Eyes—?”

Yes. Eyes.

Dozens.

Hundreds.

Thousands of eyes, large and small.

They filled the night sky completely.

Each one had a different shape—round, slit, compound, human—but all of them shared one thing.

They were looking down.

They were looking at him.

[ThankyouThankyouThankyouThankyou—]

[At last, we descend to the earth.]

[We have waited for you, my benefactor.]

[I want to become… I want to become… I want to become…]

[We will see you on the surface.]

Every one of those countless eyes overflowed with dark, ecstatic joy—

As though delighted—

To gaze upon a life that had finally witnessed the truth.