Raising Villains The Right Way
In the underground of Rosario—the name of both the Holy Kingdom and its capital—stood a man in the heart of a vast subterranean cavern, a labyrinthine network of aqueducts converging here. His gentle smile clashed with the dim setting. The man, wearing a pendant engraved with the lunar symbol of Sironia and dressed in somber ceremonial robes, was none other than Rosario’s chief cardinal, Anderde.
“You have arrived.”
A soft murmur echoed as another man, draped head to toe in a black robe, began to step forward from the cavern’s shadows.
“Ah, as expected, I couldn’t deceive the cardinal’s eyes.”
The masked figure, eyes creased in a mischievous expression, drew closer to Anderde with a casual wave.
Thud—
A box landed before Anderde. Though neither small nor large, the box drew his attention.
“Please, inspect it,” the masked man prompted.
Kneeling to examine the box, Anderde lifted the lid and involuntarily gasped, “Oh…”
Inside lay countless Abyssal Cores, their number easily exceeding fifty. Momentarily stunned, Anderde quickly closed the box and rose, bowing respectfully.
“Thank you, brother. Thanks to this, we can proceed as planned.”
“That’s good to hear. You mentioned the Birth Rite, correct?”
“Yes, provided the schedule remains unchanged.”
The masked man shrugged at Anderde’s words, turning as though to leave, before pausing to ask, “Would it be alright if I ask you something?”
“Please, speak freely.”
With his serene smile, Anderde encouraged him, and after a brief hesitation, the masked man spoke.
“I’m curious as to why the cardinal would involve himself in something like this. If it’s too personal, feel free to decline.”
Anderde hesitated before answering, “To seek salvation.”
“Salvation, you say?”
The masked man repeated his words, prompting Anderde to elaborate.
“Brother, what do you think of the divine?”
“Hmm… To be honest, I haven’t really given it much thought.”
“I believe the divine is unfair.”
The statement was jarring, especially coming from the chief cardinal.
“Allow me to ask you a question.”
The masked man remained silent, listening intently as Anderde continued.
“There are those who offer prayers to the divine daily. Some go to temples to pray, some fight to uphold the divine’s name, and others tread thorny paths to fulfill their divine mission.”
“Others abandon an ailing elder to journey to the holy land or take lives unwillingly to uphold the divine’s will.”
“Some, who haven’t eaten for days, pray for even moldy bread to stave off hunger, while others pray to heal the sick.”
Anderde’s voice went on, recounting story after story of different people, their struggles pouring forth endlessly until, finally, he posed his last question to the masked man.
“All these people believe in Sironia and pray. Who, do you think, would receive divine aid?”
As the masked man pondered the question, Anderde, still smiling serenely, added, “Don’t trouble yourself; there is no correct answer among the options I’ve provided.”
“…What?”
The masked man looked confused by Anderde’s sudden statement, but Anderde continued speaking.
“As I said, there is no correct answer. The Divine, or rather, Sironia, does not extend a hand of salvation to anyone. She simply acts according to her own will.”
A bitter expression crossed Anderde’s face.
“The gods are like that. Faith, no matter how long it endures, has no bearing. Even if someone believes in Sironia for decades, if they do not please her, they receive neither power nor blessing.”
“But, conversely, if she favors someone, they may receive power even without belief. It’s as though faith is meaningless to them, with divine power bestowed entirely on a whim.”
“Gods are such beings—indifferent to genuine prayers, faith, sacrifice, and martyrdom, wielding power only for themselves.”
After a moment’s silence, Anderde smiled again, an expression both gentle and devout.
“That’s why I made this decision.”
In a profoundly compassionate and sacred tone, he said, “That’s why I intend to proceed.”
The masked man glanced toward the vast cavern behind Anderde.
“A place where no one is discriminated against,” he said.
Though dark, the torches lining the space revealed the sheer size of the cavern, as well as the presence of countless people behind the cardinal.
“Where anyone who believes can share in power equally.”
Men and women, elders and children, commoners, priests, inquisitors, and nuns were all gathered in reverent prayer, facing the same place.
“A sanctuary solely for believers.”
At the end of the space stood a massive statue—clearly crafted by human hands—a towering likeness of a human form.
“A god made by humanity.”
The masked man looked at Anderde, who still wore his endlessly warm smile. In the torchlight, that smile seemed all the more eerie, almost like that of a madman.
Suddenly, the masked man felt a strange fear. Anderde’s benevolent smile, cast in shadow by the torchlight, deepened ominously, resembling that of a lunatic.
####
As soon as Alon used magic, he was surprised by an unexpected burst of light.
‘Why is that glowing? The Sironia goddess statue shouldn’t react to magic in the first place.’
He quickly ceased his spellcasting. However, even after stopping, the light from the statue of Sironia continued to shine.
Soon, a soft but startled voice rang in Alon’s ear.
[W-What is this?]
The voice was feminine and nervous, but no physical form appeared—only the statue glowed. Realizing the voice belonged to the goddess Sironia, Alon felt compelled to show respect and began to kneel, only to be interrupted.
[Wait!]
At her urgent tone, Alon froze mid-kneel, his face showing a mixture of confusion as he gazed at the statue.
[Who…who are you?]
“…??”
Hearing the goddess’s voice tremble, Alon realized she was wary of him. Though he couldn’t understand why, he knew he shouldn’t keep the goddess waiting for a reply.
“I am Count Palatio of the Kingdom of Asteria, Great Goddess Sironia.”
Recalling a self-introduction from the game, he responded accordingly.
[No, that’s not what I—Hah.]
The goddess, seeming frustrated, suddenly sighed before lapsing into silence. After a moment, she spoke again, more composed but with a hint of urgency.
[Count Palatio. What is your purpose in coming here?]
Alon sensed the concealed urgency in her voice and, after a moment’s hesitation, decided to be direct.
“I came hoping to obtain the Eye-Eater’s pendant.”
This relic, hidden in the Saint’s chamber and lacking any traceable magic, was what Alon had sought. At his words—
Clink~!
—the marble floor to the right of the statue lightly shifted open.
[Reach Out Your Hand.]
Sironia’s voice echoed, and when Alon extended his hand—
Thud!
—a white pendant dropped into his palm.
“This is…”
[Is this the purpose for which you came here?]
“Yes, it is… but, why give it to me so suddenly?”
Although he sensed her intention, Alon still asked out of curiosity.
Sironia responded simply,
[Take it.]
“…Are you sure about this?”
[Yes. Now, if that’s all, you may go.]
With those words, she vanished, and the white light dissipated instantly, as if a power outage had occurred.
Though her tone had become calm toward the end, her voice had sounded hurried, almost as if she was escaping.
Feeling bewildered, Alon thought, What exactly is going on here?
The situation reminded him of his encounter with Heinkel at the Mage Association, and he recalled Heinkel’s cryptic mention of “behind.” Alon glanced over his shoulder, but—
Nothing was there.
What is this…? he wondered, feeling an odd sense of unease as he left the Saint’s chamber with the Eye-Eater’s pendant he’d originally sought.
***
Meanwhile, in Rosario, Saint Yuman stood wide-eyed and stunned by what he had just witnessed. There were several reasons for his astonishment. First, he was shocked that Count Palatio could communicate with the goddess Sironia. Second, he was surprised that Sironia’s statue glowed even brighter in the count’s presence than it ever had with him.
But what astonished him most—leaving his mouth agape—was that,
The goddess herself bestowed a relic upon him…??
Sironia had personally given a sacred artifact to Count Palatio. Such an act was typically reserved for a divine ceremony through which the goddess would formally choose a saint. Though Count Palatio’s request had initiated the interaction, Yuman, who was unaware of what had transpired in the Saint’s chamber, wondered,
‘Could Count Palatio have manipulated something, knowing I was watching?’
After all, the goddess Sironia usually followed strict procedures for such holy ceremonies, not acting so abruptly. Once Count Palatio departed, Yuman entered the Sanctuary of the Holy Spirit, knelt, and began praying.
After a short while—
Voom!
The Sironia statue began to glow, and her voice echoed.
[What troubles you, my child?]
Her voice sounded slightly weary, though Yuman, having seen the goddess bestow the relic, didn’t notice the subtle change. Preparing to speak, he said,
“Great goddess Sironia, I wish to report that Count Palatio has taken an item from the chamber—”
[Enough.]
Sironia interrupted,
[That was given by me; pay it no mind, my child.]
“Truly? Is that so?”
[Yes. If you witnessed today’s events, pretend you saw nothing.]
With that, Sironia vanished.
Kneeling in the Sanctuary of the Holy Spirit, Yuman was left to ponder in shock,
‘The goddess herself granted a relic to Count Palatio?’
After a long silence, he could only conclude,
“Then… does that mean Count Palatio… is like me, a saint…?”

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