Chapter 24

Chapter 24
“So suddenly? And more to the point, in Caliban…?”

A look of profound bewilderment settled on Evan’s face as he paused to think.

Then, a flicker of understanding in his eyes, he spoke hesitantly.
“You can’t possibly be thinking of going to the North, are you?”
He said, remembering that Caliban was the nation nearest to the lands of the northern tribes.

“I’ll give you the details while we travel. For now, just get everything ready. The information I asked for earlier, it’s confirmed, correct?”
“…If you mean the individual we spoke of last time, then yes. The information guild verified their presence in that village.”
Evan’s reply was tinged with anxiety.
“Good. We’ll make a stop there before continuing directly to Caliban.”
At Alon’s resolute declaration, Evan looked at him for a long moment, his gaze a mix of curiosity and reluctant acceptance, before finally leaving the room to carry out his orders.

“Haah…”
Alon released a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face as if the mere contemplation of it was draining.

The arrival of an Outer God was equivalent to a cataclysm, a disaster he had prayed fervently would never come to pass.

An Outer God.
These entities, known by many titles across the continent of Psychedelia, were evils whose very descent into the world brought ruin, much like the Five Great Sins.

For Alon, their emergence alone was enough to completely shatter the future he had meticulously planned.
Once they began their true rampage, they could effortlessly annihilate entire kingdoms.
With six kingdoms on the continent, the statistical probability of being affected was roughly one in three.
Yet, even from a coldly rational perspective, there remained a 33.3% chance he would be stripped of his nobility and reduced to begging.
…In truth, by that stage, living as a beggar might be considered lucky.
If an Outer God were to assault Asteria, his odds of survival were virtually nonexistent.
If, by some remote chance, the Outer God destroyed two other kingdoms instead of Asteria, the circumstances might be marginally better, but still far from desirable.
The fall of two kingdoms would trigger the rapid collapse of the United Kingdoms, and the surviving nations would fight like mad dogs over the now-worthless lands corrupted by otherworldly powers.
With tens of thousands of casualties and over a dozen heroes already lost to previous encounters with Outer Gods, the remaining kingdoms would be critically weakened, ultimately to be consumed by the Empire.
In short, no matter which way he analyzed it, if an Outer God descended upon the United Kingdoms, Alon would have to abandon his title and lands.
In some respects, the second scenario could be even worse.
While the first would be a quick end, the second would drag him into a prolonged, full-scale war.
One might assume the United Kingdoms would unite in the face of such a threat.
But Alon, having experienced hundreds of scenarios through his long familiarity with this world’s rules, could state with certainty that this was never the case.
In every instance where an Outer God or one of the Five Great Sins obliterated even a single kingdom, the dissolution of the United Kingdoms was an inevitability.
Other minor details might shift, but the Union’s collapse was a constant.
Therefore, for Alon to protect the life he had planned, he had to prevent the Outer God from ever reaching the kingdom.
“…Hmph.”
The moment Alon learned of the Outer God’s descent, he knew immediate action was his only option. He already had a strategy in mind.
“I must resolve this within two months.”
When an Outer God first manifests in the mortal realm, its avatar cannot wield its full power, requiring a two-month period of stabilization before it awakens as a Saged God and gains access to its complete abilities.
This provided a narrow window of opportunity to act before its transformation was complete.
…Though, it was crucial to remember that even in this pre-awakened state, it was far from weak.
He quietly sifted through a dusty corner of his mind, where all the non-essential game knowledge was stored.
‘If it’s in the North, then it must be the God of Duels, Ultultus. Before becoming a Saged God, he’s incapable of area-of-effect attacks, which is a small mercy. But under normal circumstances, to overpower him through sheer force, you would definitively require at least five Sword Masters and one Archmage…’
Alon shook his head silently.
Assembling such power in his current situation was an impossibility.
Yet, despite this, his expression remained steady.
From the moment he’d heard about the god-possessed monsters, he had half-expected this development. He had already formulated a plan to eliminate the Outer God.
‘I’m not entirely sure it will work, but…’
There was no time for doubt. Having reached this conclusion, Alon opened a drawer in his inn room, took out writing paper, and immediately began composing a letter.

Ten minutes later.
‘…I should probably include a gift as well.’
After finishing the letter, which was addressed to Master Knight Deus Makalian in Caliban, Alon stood up.
That late afternoon, two days before the scheduled banquet, Count Palatio departed from Duke Rotegre’s castle.

***

That same night.
In the rarely used residence that Duke Rotegre had graciously provided for her, Duke Altia—Loria—who had just arrived, was in conversation with a man.
“You’re telling me Count Palatio has already departed?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
When the man, Marquis Mardarnio, nodded in confirmation, Loria spoke again.
“And how did it proceed?”
“Fortunately, he accepted the gift favorably.”
At the Marquis’s words, Altia allowed herself a slight smile.
“That is a relief.”
In noble society, gifts are often ceremonial and carry little weight.
However, this applies only to trivial items. Truly valuable presents, such as relics, always convey a deeper significance.
In the case of Marquis Mardarnio’s gift to the head of a nascent faction, its message was a single, implicit question: ‘Will you permit me to join your faction?’
Of course, a direct inquiry would be more straightforward, but noble culture is built upon maintaining appearances.
For instance, if one were to ask directly and be refused, it would be a severe blow to their dignity.
This is why both parties engage in this symbolic communication, a form of dignified bribery that makes the interaction easier for everyone involved.
Accepting the gift signifies approval; rejecting it means refusal.
Naturally, Count Palatio, Alon, was completely unaware of these nuances.
He had attended only one ball in his life, had no friends, and his father, who died from an overdose, had left him wholly uneducated in such matters.
Consequently, Alon simply thought, ‘Even if they figure it out later, it’s not like we’ll cross paths often, and it would be terribly awkward for them to ask for it back after I’ve accepted it, right?’ With this in mind, he took the gift without a second thought, fully intending to keep it.
“Now we can formally align our interests.”
“The honor is mine.”
“What of the others?”
“Those who pledged their support also accepted their gifts.”
Thanks to Alon’s ignorance and his readiness to accept the offerings, Altia successfully secured the allegiance of the nobles she had previously approached.
“…Then we can begin our maneuvers in earnest now.”
With a faint, satisfied smile, she started her preparations for the true establishment of her faction.

***

Exactly one week after Alon’s departure from Duke Rotegre’s estate.
He arrived in Parkran, a small village in the northern reaches of the Kingdom of Ashtalon, located some distance from the Rotegre lands. Alon had come here for one specific purpose.
“Hello!”
It was to meet the main character of this dark fantasy roguelike game, <Psychedelia>.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Uh, no, I don’t?”
The reason Alon sought out Eliban, the game’s protagonist, even though the threat of the Five Great Sins was gone and the hero was no longer strictly necessary, was simple.
Even without that primary conflict, the protagonist was destined for greatness, and Alon judged it wise to earn his goodwill early.
Especially now, with an Outer God on the loose, Alon wanted Eliban to grow in power quickly. He had therefore come laden with items to accelerate the boy’s early development.
“…Your name is Eliban, correct?”
“Yes, that’s me!”
As Alon observed the boy, who spoke with a brilliantly cheerful smile that anyone would find disarming, he thought to himself, ‘He’s almost too handsome for a boy… but then again, he matches the artwork perfectly.’
In <Psychedelia>, players could freely choose the protagonist’s gender. The thought crossed Alon’s mind briefly before a faint sense of dissonance followed.
‘Was the protagonist always this… vibrant?’
Since <Psychedelia> was a dark fantasy, he remembered Eliban’s personality as being relatively lively compared to other characters in the genre, but not to *this* degree. He felt momentarily puzzled.
But the feeling quickly faded.
“Take this.”
Alon casually pulled several gold coins from his pocket and handed them to the boy.
“Huh? For me?”
Eliban’s eyes widened in astonishment as he received the gold coins, a sum sufficient to support an average family for two months.
But Alon didn’t stop there. He proceeded to hand over one item after another, explaining each of the gifts he had assembled for Eliban over the past week.
After a long explanation and the transfer of all the collected items, Eliban, wearing a baffled expression, asked, “But… why are you giving me all of this?”
Seeing Eliban’s confusion, Alon hesitated for a beat before answering, “Consider it an investment.”
“An investment?”
“Yes. You are going to become someone very significant one day.”
In truth, Alon was hoping Eliban might handle any future Outer God incursions for him, but he kept that part to himself.
“I am Count Palatio,” Alon added, ensuring Eliban would know the name of his benefactor when he eventually rose to prominence, before turning and climbing into his carriage without further ceremony.
“Thank you, Count… I mean, My Lord!”
Eliban, looking dazed by the sudden encounter and even quicker departure, watched the carriage leave and offered a respectful farewell.

Shortly after…
“…I can surmise what you’re attempting, but isn’t this all a bit hasty?” Evan commented, having observed the speed with which Alon had unloaded all the gifts onto the protagonist.
“Time is a luxury we don’t have. Besides, he’s clever enough to understand the gesture.”
Alon spoke while recalling Eliban’s background. He had considered staying in the village for a few days to build a rapport with Eliban, but time constraints made it impossible. He had chosen this direct approach, and Evan nodded in reluctant agreement.
“I suppose. Well, he certainly seems exceptionally gifted. For a child, his magical energy is remarkably potent.”
“…Huh? Magical energy?”
“Yes, you didn’t sense it? It was as if magic was radiating from him. Plus, even dressed like a village boy, it looked like he was carrying an artifact.”
Hearing Evan’s words, Alon tried to recall his impression of Eliban.
‘Now that you mention it, I did feel a certain magical presence… But wasn’t Eliban supposed to be just an ordinary village boy before his adventure began?’
Thinking back to the game’s initial setup, Alon tilted his head in confusion.
It seemed strange for Eliban to possess noticeable magic power and an artifact at this early stage, but Alon dismissed the thought.
‘Well, he is the protagonist. I suppose it’s natural for him to have a little extra talent.’
With that, Alon stopped worrying about Eliban.
He had given all the assistance he could for now, and if the protagonist grew stronger, it would ultimately work to his advantage.
After all, Eliban was one of the very few characters in this harsh, dark fantasy world who possessed a genuinely kind heart.
Because of that…
“How long until we reach Caliban from here?”
“Hmm… approximately another week. Ten days at most if we encounter delays.”
“I hope we can find some assistance there.”
Alon listened to Evan’s estimate as they continued their journey toward Caliban.

Meanwhile, in a large mansion in southern Caliban, Deus, who had recently returned from the northern expedition and was resting, found himself preparing to head north again the very next day due to “disturbing news from abroad.”

“!”
After reading the letter,
“Vice-captain.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Postpone the northern expedition for two weeks.”
He issued the command immediately.
“Might I ask the reason for the delay?”
At the vice-captain’s question, Deus was silent for a moment.
“…A benefactor of mine will be arriving soon.”
He muttered the words quietly.