Chapter 24 - Grand Social Gathering (4)

"So suddenly? No, more importantly, why Callivan all of a sudden...?"

Evan looked thoroughly bewildered. After a moment's thought, an incredulous expression crossed his face.

"Don't tell me you're planning to go north?"

He had remembered that Callivan was the country closest to the northern barbarians.

"I'll explain on the way, so get ready first. You're certain about that other information I asked for, too?"

"... If you mean finding the person you mentioned last time, yes. I checked with the Information Guild, and they said he's in that village."

Evan looked distinctly uneasy.

"Then we'll stop there and head straight to Callivan."

At Alon's firm response, Evan regarded him with his usual mixture of curiosity and resignation, then left the room to carry out his orders.

"Hah..."

Alon heaved a deep sigh and covered his face with his hands, as though the mere thought exhausted him.

An Outer God's descent was a catastrophe he would rather never happen under almost any circumstances.

Outer Gods.

Known by all sorts of names across Psychedelia's continent, they were scourges that, like the Five Great Sins, harmed the world merely by descending upon it.

For Alon, they were also beings whose mere descent could utterly destroy his plans for the future. Once they fully manifested and began running rampant, they became calamities capable of wiping out a kingdom or two with ease.

Of course, with six kingdoms on the continent, the chance of being caught in that calamity was only about one in three.

But viewed coldly, that still meant a substantial 33.3% chance of losing his noble title and living as a beggar.

... Actually, by that point, living as a beggar might count as good fortune. If an Outer God attacked Asteria, his chances of survival would be vanishingly small.

If, by some chance, the Outer God destroyed two other kingdoms instead of the Kingdom of Asteria, things would be somewhat better—but that was hardly the ideal outcome, either.

With two kingdoms destroyed, the allied kingdoms would collapse in an instant. The surviving kingdoms would begin fighting madly among themselves over worthless stretches of land contaminated by otherworldly power.

With tens of thousands of casualties and more than ten heroes already ground down by the Outer God, the kingdoms would naturally grow weaker. The probability that the empire would eventually swallow them up was 100%.

In other words, the only difference was how long it took. If an Outer God descended upon the allied kingdoms, he would lose his noble title either way.

In some respects, the latter outcome might even be more painful than the former.

The former would end everything in one blow. In the latter, once war began in earnest, he would have to take part himself.

Of course, someone might optimistically suggest that the allied kingdoms could band together instead.

But Alon, who had played this game for years and witnessed hundreds of possible outcomes, could firmly shake his head.

Across those hundreds of scenarios, the moment even one kingdom was destroyed by an Outer God or the Five Great Sins, the alliance's chance of collapse was 100%.

Other minor details might change, but the alliance's collapse never did.

For Alon, that meant he had to stop the Outer God before it reached the kingdoms if he wanted to keep his life plans from falling apart.

"... Hmm."

Of course, he had decided to act the moment he heard an Outer God had descended because there was a way.

'I have to do something within two months.'

When Outer Gods first descended to earth, they existed as spirits and could not wield their full inherent power. Only after a two-month stabilization period could they awaken as incarnate gods and use that power.

In other words, stopping one would be somewhat easier before it became an incarnate god.

... Not that it was weak before then.

He quietly sifted through the game knowledge tucked away in a corner of his mind, now gathering dust apart from the information he still needed.

'If it's in the north, it must be Ultultus, the god of duels. Before becoming an incarnate god, it won't be able to use Great Awakening, so that's something. But normally, overpowering it through sheer force would absolutely require five Swordmasters and at least one archmage...'

Alon quietly shook his head.

Naturally, assembling a force like that was impossible in his current situation.

Even so, his expression did not sour. Ever since the monsters had shown signs of divine possession, he had privately anticipated this situation, and he already had a plan to annihilate the Outer God.

'I don't know if it'll go according to plan, though...'

He was in no position to fret over every detail. With that thought, Alon opened a compartment in his lodgings, took out some stationery, and immediately began writing.

Ten minutes later...

'... I should bring a gift, at least.'

Having finished his letter to Deus Makalian, the Master Knight in Callivan, Alon rose from his seat.

Late that afternoon, with roughly two days of the banquet remaining, Count Pallatio left Duke Rotegr's castle.

####

That night.

The Duchess of Altia, who seldom traveled, had finally arrived that day. House Rotegr had personally set aside an entire building on its estate for her visit, and she was now speaking with a man in those guest quarters.

"So Count Pallatio has already left."

"He has."

The man, Marquis Mardanio, nodded, and Loria, the Duchess of Altia, continued.

"Then how did it go?"

"Fortunately, he accepted the gift graciously."

The duchess smiled at his reply.

"That's a relief."

Among nobles, gifts were generally a matter of courtesy and carried little significance.

But that applied only to trivial gifts. Expensive objects such as relics always conveyed a meaning.

And when someone wishing to join a faction gave a gift to the head of a new faction, as Marquis Mardanio had just done, it meant only one thing:

It was a way of asking, "I would like to join your faction. May I?"

Of course, asking outright would be much more straightforward, but noble society was fundamentally built around saving face.

If someone asked directly and happened to be rejected, they would lose face.

Thus, to make things easier for both the person asking and the person answering, they conveyed their intentions indirectly through gifts that were effectively bribes.

Acceptance of the gift meant consent; anything else meant refusal.

Naturally, Count Pallatio—Alon—knew nothing about any of this.

He had only ever attended one ball, had no friends, and the man who called himself his father had spent the end of his life doing drugs before dying. Alon's ignorance of such matters was almost unbecoming of a noble.

As a result, he had accepted the gifts with nothing but the intention of taking them and running, thinking, 'Even if they catch on later, we won't see each other much anyway. And once they've given me something, asking for it back would be awkward, right?'

"Now we can officially share the same cause."

"It is an honor."

"What about the others?"

"He accepted all the gifts from the others who said they wished to join our cause, too."

In any case, purely because Alon intended to pocket the gifts and run, he had accepted the offerings of the nobles whom the Duchess of Altia deemed necessary and had approached beforehand.

"... Then we can begin moving in earnest now."

With a small smile, she began serious preparations for the faction's emergence.

####

Exactly one week after leaving Duke Rotegr's domain, Alon arrived in Parkran, a small village in the north of the Kingdom of Ashtalon, a week's journey from Rotegr's territory.

He had come here for one reason alone.

"Hello!"

He was here to meet the protagonist of the dark-fantasy roguelike Psychedelia.

"... Do you know who I am?"

"Um, no?"

With the Five Great Sins already gone and the protagonist's existence no longer necessary, Alon's reason for seeking out Elivan, the game's protagonist, was simple.

Even without the Five Great Sins, the protagonist would become famous. Alon had decided there was no harm in winning his favor beforehand.

... Of course, now that an Outer God had descended, he had brought armfuls of items to aid Elivan's early development, hoping he would grow stronger quickly.

"... You're Elivan, correct?"

"Yes, that's me!"

Watching the boy speak with a smile so bright it was refreshing, Alon thought:

'He's unusually pretty for a boy... Well, he looks exactly like the illustration.'

The thought arose because players could choose the protagonist's gender in Psychedelia, but it soon gave way to a strange sense of dissonance.

'... Was the protagonist always like this?'

He recalled that, although Elivan was certainly lively by dark-fantasy standards, he had never seemed quite this cheerful. That puzzled Alon for a moment.

But only for a moment.

"Take these."

Deciding it hardly mattered, Alon casually pulled a few gold coins from his pocket and handed them over.

"Huh? These?"

Elivan's eyes grew enormous as he accepted the coins. Just one would allow an ordinary household to live comfortably for about two months.

But Alon had no intention of stopping there. He took the boy with him and began handing over the items he had prepared for him over the past week, explaining each one.

After a lengthy explanation and after handing over everything he had gathered, Elivan asked:

"... But why are you suddenly giving all this to me?"

Looking at his bewildered expression, Alon considered his answer.

"It's an investment."

"An investment?"

"Yes. You're going to amount to something great one day."

In truth, he hoped the boy would deal with any other Outer Gods that might appear in his stead, but Alon chose not to mention that.

"I am Count Pallatio."

Having also given him the name of the patron he should thank once he succeeded, Alon climbed into the carriage without hesitation.

"Thank you, Ho—no, my lord!"

Elivan looked lost at how swiftly their meeting had turned into a farewell, but he soon called out to the departing carriage.

A little while later...

"... I think I have a rough idea of what you're trying to do, but aren't you rushing things a little too much?"

Evan spoke after watching Alon shower the protagonist with everything he had brought in the blink of an eye.

"We don't have time. Besides, he'll have understood it all. He's clever."

Alon spoke with Elivan's character profile in mind.

In truth, he had often thought it would be better to stay in the village for a few days and build some goodwill. Unfortunately, he had little time now, which was why he had chosen this approach.

Evan nodded in agreement.

"Yes, well, he certainly seemed incredibly talented. All that dense mana swirling around him, and he's still only a kid."

"... Hm? Mana?"

"Yes? Mana. Didn't you see it? It seemed to be seeping right out of him. And he was dressed like a village boy, but I think he was wearing an artifact, too."

At Evan's words, Alon briefly thought back to Elivan.

'I did seem to sense a little mana... But wasn't Elivan just Village Boy A before he started his adventure...?'

Alon tilted his head, recalling the opening premise that always appeared at the start of Psychedelia.

Given that premise, it was certainly strange for Elivan to possess mana and an artifact, and he pondered it.

'... Well, he's the protagonist. Nothing wrong with having plenty of talent.'

With that thought, Alon stopped worrying about Elivan.

He had given him everything he could, so there was nothing more for him to do. Besides, a strong protagonist would benefit him as well.

Elivan, Psychedelia's protagonist, was one of the few kindhearted people in this brutal dark-fantasy world.

And so...

"How many days will it take to reach Callivan from here?"

"Hmm... About another week, I think. Ten days if we're delayed."

"... I hope I can get some help."

Listening to Evan's answer, Alon continued toward Callivan.

Meanwhile, at a large mansion in southern Callivan, Deus had been resting after returning from an expedition to the north. Because of the Outer God, he was preparing to set out north again the following day.

Then he read the letter—and started in surprise.

"Deputy commander."

"Yes, sir."

"Postpone the northern expedition for two weeks."

He issued the order immediately.

"May I ask the reason?"

At his deputy's question, Deus fell silent for a moment before murmuring:

"... My benefactor will be arriving soon."