Chapter 22

Chapter 22
The conflict with the goblins concluded with a win. Because the knights and mercenaries reacted with composure, their defensive lines remained unbroken, and Alon’s spellwork once again annihilated a squad of foes attempting to flank the nobility, swiftly shifting the momentum to their side. Naturally, facing hundreds of altered goblins led to some losses, but the count was remarkably low considering the engagement’s size.

The fight was decisively finished when a knight drove his weapon through the final goblin’s skull. Once the soldiers verified the end of hostilities, they released a collective breath of profound relief and looked over at Alon, who was observing the fallen goblins. Even after a struggle for survival, his face was a blank mask, as though the combat had made no impression on him, which made the mercenaries regard him with a mixture of respect and wonder. The image of Alon dismembering scores of goblins without a flicker of emotion was seared into their memories.

Yet, while the knights and mercenaries held him in high esteem, Alon was inwardly reeling, ‘That was one strike away from death…!’ His exterior was calm, but inside he was struggling to steady his pounding heart. Despite carrying the Insignia of the Impure, which tripled his spellcasting capacity, after conjuring multiple walls and shields, his mana reserves were completely spent, leaving him utterly vulnerable.

‘It’s fortunate the knights were victorious,’ he reflected. The chance of the knights and mercenaries being defeated was small, even against these changed goblins, but the terror he felt when he could no longer defend himself was acute.

‘Maybe I should have withdrawn sooner… No, staying nearby was the right choice… but more importantly…’ Alon gave silent thanks to his earlier self for making a logical decision and, once his pulse settled, he focused on the goblin carcass, his demeanor turning grim. He understood all too well the meaning of the purple amethyst protruding from the creature’s flesh.

“Why… a divine descent?”

This was an unusual event that happened to the world’s monsters when an Outer God attempted to manifest. The monsters touched by a divine descent grew more aggressive and gained physical power. Although the current troop contingent could manage the monsters expected on the route to the Duke’s lands, Alon was troubled by the mere occurrence of the divine descent.

The phenomenon signaled that an Outer God would soon walk the land. Usually, such gods could not manifest unless one of the Five Great Sins appeared, but now, even these deities of the borderlands were preparing to arrive.

‘This is… a bad development…’

The descent of Outer Gods was a serious concern for Alon. While not as devastating as the Great Sins, if these gods went on a rampage, entire kingdoms could be erased without effort. With only six kingdoms on the continent outside the Empire, there was a one-in-three chance his long-term designs could be obliterated. In truth, if he were even in a position to contemplate his future when that happened, he would count himself lucky. Alon’s face remained stern as he examined the goblin.

Yet, there were those who appeared even more troubled than Alon—so much so that their faces seemed to show they had been utterly ruined.

Those people were Count Crylde and Count Edolon.

***

A few days after the mutated goblin’s appearance, with just one day remaining until they reached the Duke’s domain, Alon noticed two shifts in that brief period. The first was that the nobles, who had previously regarded him with open scorn and mockery, particularly when Counts Crylde and Edolon made their biting remarks, no longer wore such expressions. The second change was:

“Count Palatio, this is meat from my personal estate. Would you care for some?”

“Count, if it suits you, I could provide some assistance to your territory. What is your opinion?”

Count Crylde and Count Edolon, who had spent the preceding days deriding Alon, were now courting his favor, behaving obsequiously. The two counts, appearing willing to grant Alon any desire, stayed near him, offering flattery with ingratiating smiles, while Alon showed no reaction. But the counts were acting out of sheer desperation—genuine desperation.

The show of force Alon had demonstrated days prior was too potent to write off as simple “chance” in his acquisition of the Count Palatio title. Furthermore, they recalled what the 3rd-tier mage, whom Baron Amon had hired to display his affluence, had said that evening: that Alon’s magical ability was unquestionably above the 2nd tier.

Hearing this, both counts started to re-evaluate the gossip circulating in high society, questioning if they had misjudged Alon. While a few uncertainties remained, that was no longer the point. What was crucial was that the two counts had recognized Alon possessed a hidden strength substantial enough to not require safeguarding.

This implied that the power rumored to have obliterated Avalon in a single day, the power belonging to Count Palatio, might be authentic. With this awareness, their sole path was to swiftly gain Alon’s goodwill. While some might suggest it would be wiser to investigate the circumstances fully before acting, this logic did not hold for those familiar with the Palatio lineage.

The two counts, having seen the notorious brutality of the Palatio family directly, understood their capacity for cruelty. Although Alon, the third son, had never exhibited such conduct personally, the counts were certain that Alon shared his family’s merciless and harsh disposition. The Palatio line had been filled with scoundrels since his grandfather’s era.

Because of this, Alon had lived in comfort these past few days. He ate meat for every meal instead of sweet potatoes and corn, and the wine they sometimes provided was also of high quality. However, despite accepting these offerings for several days in a row, Alon’s expression did not warm, as he was still absorbed in thoughts of the goblin from days before.

‘Who could it be…?’

No matter how much Alon turned it over in his mind, no definite solution appeared. The divine descent was only an indicator that an Outer God was preparing to manifest, and there was no method to determine precisely which god, or when and where it would happen.

Although it was pointless to obsess over it, Alon couldn’t stop worrying, aware that his future plans could be shattered in a moment. He could transition from noble to commoner in an instant, which was why he couldn’t let it go.

“I will need to collect as much intelligence as possible once I get to the estate.”

Thinking this, he looked at the nobles beside him, who were zealously attempting to atone for their prior conduct, even if it cost them their dignity. He was once more made aware of the Palatio family’s fearsome notoriety.

‘…I didn’t expect them to be this reactive over just a small suspicion about a rumor.’

Watching the counts’ frantic efforts, Alon saw how profoundly the rumors concerning his family had influenced them. Still, despite comprehending their dread, he had no plan to alleviate their fears. Alon thought of himself as level-headed, but he also had a vindictive streak.

The counts’ performance ultimately ceased when Alon reached Duke Rotegre’s estate.

***

Immediately upon arriving at Duke Rotegre’s estate, Alon was met with an unbelievably vast mansion—no, a collection of multiple mansions.

‘Just how many mansions are within this estate? Then again, the wealthy would have this many,’ he thought, noting the assortment of architectural styles, as if someone with eclectic tastes in decor had assembled them. Alon soon understood that all these mansions housed the Duke’s concubines, and he shook his head in amazement.

‘How does his physique endure it?’ he wondered for a moment, but when he entered the ballroom in the midst of a lavish party, he was stunned anew.

Every detail radiated opulence. Even the wine glasses, which one usually wouldn’t notice, were edged with gold. The chandeliers, fashioned entirely from gold, gave Alon a fleeting impulse to snatch one and sell it as he moved through the ballroom.

As anticipated, the ballroom was packed with nobles. The Duke of Rotegre, who looked exceedingly gaunt, was present, conversing with a crowd of them. Alon made no attempt to enter their discussions. It was easy to assume there would be no advantage in doing so—particularly in this ballroom, which felt even more unpleasant than the last one he had visited.

Rather than socialize, Alon chose to stand to the side, nibbling on food and overhearing the nobles’ talks. His servant, Evan, had already departed to reach out to the information guild as soon as they had arrived at the estate.

As Alon enjoyed a dessert similar to an egg tart along with some wine, he caught a fascinating bit of news from the nobles’ discussion.

“Baron Daldoran, are you aware of the recent news?”

“What news are you referring to?”

“You know, the talk that Duke Altia and Count Zenonia not only forged an alliance but are also attempting to create a faction?”

“Ah, that rumor? Yes, I’ve come across it.”

The two nobles, behaving as if they were sharing a major secret, shifted to a secluded spot and began speaking in hushed tones. However, with his sharpened hearing, Alon could follow their dialogue without difficulty.

“But can it be true? I found it hard to accept their alliance initially. If they truly form a faction, they could overwhelm all existing factions put together.”

“Precisely. It could be an event without precedent.”

Alon felt a jolt of surprise upon hearing this, but his face showed little alteration. Even if such rumors were accurate, he doubted those two could sustain their partnership for an extended time.

Mulling this over, Alon couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in appreciation at the delightful flavor of the egg tart in his mouth, nodding in agreement. “This is excellent.” Unthinkingly, he took another and ate it.

But at that moment, the conversation he was monitoring took a more intriguing turn.

“Yet that is not the core of the matter.”

“What do you mean? Is there a more significant piece of gossip?”

“Naturally, I wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.”

“Well then… what is it?”

“This is something I learned through very confidential channels, so you must not repeat it. I have heard that neither Duke Altia nor Count Zenonia is the head of this faction.”

“…What? Then who is?”

“Well… Count Palatio.”

“…Count Palatio?”

“Yes, the faction’s leader… is allegedly Count Palatio.”

“Is that accurate?”

“Of course. Do you believe I would fabricate something of this nature?”

“Huh…? What?”

Hearing this, Alon instinctively turned toward the nobles sharing the secret and found himself staring in stunned silence at what they had just disclosed.