Raising Villains The Right Way
When the face of Stalian V turned pale with confusion, Zakurak’s head slowly shifted.
“Why is that?”
A calm question.
In response, Stalian V wondered if he had misheard something and asked again.
“……So, didn’t you just say Marquis Palatio?”
“I did, though?”
His head started spinning.
Had he ever been this flustered even while managing state affairs?
“What do you mean by that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m asking about what you just said.”
“Exactly as I said, we’re going to confirm if Marquis Palatio is truly His friend.”
Silence fell in an instant.
Honestly, an explanation was needed, but despite that, Stalian V couldn’t say anything.
He had no idea where or how to start asking questions.
After a long moment of sorting through his tangled thoughts, Stalian V cautiously spoke.
“……Can I ask just one more thing?”
“Ask whatever you want.”
Zakurak waved his hand lightly.
“The one the Lizardmen serve—isn’t He the Sage God?”
“Yes. A great being.”
“……Then, being His friend, does that mean he’s also a Sage God?”
In fact, there were countless points where he wanted an explanation.
But he also knew he wouldn’t get a kind response even if he asked.
The Lizardman before him never seemed to enjoy explaining things.
That’s why Stalian asked the most important question first.
“You know well.”
At Zakurak’s response,
“……This is insane.”
A curse slipped out unconsciously.
For the first time since he narrowly dodged a prince’s sword during the throne succession war at the age of 15 and cursed out loud.
And he,
“….Marquis Palatio is… a God…..?”
Reached a bizarre truth in a different way than Carmaxes III.
***
Having ascended to the upper floors of the tower, Alon picked up the pendant and the letter that had been left behind.
The pendant had a red gemstone embedded, with cracks spreading outward as if depicting crackling lightning within.
Alon then unfolded the letter.
“Hmm—”
The letter wasn’t too long or too short, filling just the front page.
Along with a brief greeting, two key points were written.
First, due to exhausting his power crafting the gem mentioned last time, the writer wouldn’t appear for about half a year.
The second point advised that the gem would speak on its own in a month or two, and he should handle it well then.
After quickly reading the letter, Alon sighed softly in disappointment.
‘……There were things I wanted to ask.’
He had planned to ask the Dragonkin about the mental realm but had no choice now.
Leaving his regrets behind, Alon packed the pendant and letter and headed outside.
“Huh? Marquis, you’re out quite quickly this time!”
Alon shrugged lightly.
“Well, it just turned out that way.”
“Are we heading back right away?”
“Yeah. There’s nothing else to see anyway.”
While walking, a thought suddenly crossed his mind.
‘……I was planning to meet Kylrus again today, so maybe I’ll ask then.’
It hadn’t been long since he organized his schedule and left the ruins.
Soon, the scorching sun greeted him as he stepped outside the ruins.
“Marquis really looked so cool back then!”
“Mm-hmm—I know, right!”
In perfect sync, Karsem and Seolrang were having a heated (?) discussion within view.
A duo that oddly resembled a comedy act.
For some reason, the scene gave a sense of déjà vu.
Eventually, his gaze lowered to Seolrang’s busy hands.
[Meow-]
There, his eyes met with Blackie, who was being roughly petted by Seolrang.
It was a pitiful gaze full of resentment.
***
By the time the sun reached its zenith,
The group, escorted by Karsem, safely returned to the colony.
Alon immediately entered Seolrang’s guild building and took out the “Footsteps of the past.”
‘I could’ve used this long ago.’
By the time they had crossed into the desert toward the colony, the required mana had already been filled.
But he had waited for the right moment to use it in a fixed location.
According to Evan’s testimony, the moment Alon used the “Footsteps of the past,” his entire body disappeared somewhere and reappeared.
If he got sucked into it, that was fine.
But if he used it while on the move and got left stranded in the middle of the desert, it would be a disaster.
“Well then, I’ll be off.”
“Yes, just in case, I’ll stand guard.”
“Me too!”
[Meow-!]
As Alon lifted the “Footsteps of the past,” Seolrang and Evan nodded vigorously.
Perhaps relieved from Seolrang’s grip, Blackie wagged its tail more energetically than usual.
Watching them, Alon channeled his mana.
In an instant, his vision flashed white.
And he entered the place he had seen before.
Where everything was in ruins.
According to Kylrus, it seemed to be Alon’s own mental realm.
“You’re here, brat.”
There stood Kylrus.
***
“……Are you asking if the mental realm can manifest in a different form?”
“Yes.”
As soon as he saw him, Alon immediately asked about the mental realm.
“Impossible.”
“Is that so?”
“Brat, if you’re walking the path of magic, you should understand this much after hearing it once.”
Kylrus gave a light scolding, and Alon clicked his tongue.
It wasn’t because he didn’t understand properly that he was asking.
‘In any case, it seems it’ll be hard to get answers about the mental realm from Kylrus.’
Concluding as such, Alon spoke again.
“……Can I ask something else, following up from last time?”
“Go ahead. If I had no intention of listening, I wouldn’t have come. But keep your questions concise.”
With a casual nod, Kylrus sat on a pile of stones.
Alon organized the questions he hadn’t asked last time in his mind.
“I want to ask about spell formulas.”
“……Spell formulas?”
“Yes.”
When Alon nodded, Kylrus’s expression turned strange.
“……Brat, I have to ask, are you serious?”
“I am.”
“……A guy walking, even halfway, the path of a mage doesn’t know about spell formulas?”
“Is that a problem?”
“……”
A confident attitude.
Kylrus’s mouth hung open, seemingly dumbfounded.
But soon, as if brushing off the annoyance, he lightly shook his head.
“A spell formula is, as the name suggests, a formula.”
He began explaining.
“All mages basically recite incantations to draw out their mental images. But as you know, incantations are long and slow.”
“……”
“In battle, speed is directly tied to survival. Not only that, but speed is crucial in every aspect where magic is used, from research to application. That’s why mages created formulas—to manifest spells without reciting incantations.”
“So, spell formulas are formulas made to quickly cast spells?”
“You can’t define it that simply. Ultimately, spell formulas function as a mage’s unique trait. Well—”
Kylrus trailed off, as if thinking, ‘Though this isn’t something someone like you, who hasn’t even properly acquired spell formulas, would understand.’
“……How do you acquire these spell formulas?”
“It’s not difficult. If you truly understand your mental image, you just have to weave it together and engrave it into your body.”
“Weave it together and engrave it into the body—?”
“Exactly. Like the mental image you have—or, wait.”
Kylrus paused mid-explanation, his expression turning peculiar as he glanced around the ‘ruined world’ surrounding them.
“Come to think of it, brat, you do have a mental image, don’t you? Then why is your mental realm like this?”
“Ah.”
Alon easily understood the meaning of the question.
‘Right, I did deal with Kylrus before using the Ice Crystal Strike.’
Recalling the memory, Alon hesitated briefly before explaining that he could use incantations and spells even without having a mental image.
“That’s absurd……”
Kylrus’s expression twisted even further.
But after a moment, he sighed lightly.
“So, in conclusion, you’re saying you can use spells without understanding your mental image.”
“That’s right.”
“Hah, ridiculous.”
Kylrus let out a dry laugh, shaking his head.
“In that case, there’s no need for me to even explain spell formulas. Someone like you, who hasn’t even formed a proper mental image, wouldn’t understand my explanation.”
“By any chance, were there no mages like that before?”
“Of course not. There’s no way a mage like that would exist—”
Kylrus was about to deny it outright, but suddenly paused.
“……No, now that I think about it, there might’ve been one.”
“Who was it?”
“I only heard about it, but it was said that one of the elven mages used magic like that.”
“……You don’t know who it was?”
“I don’t. I never had a reason to meet them. But—”
Digging into distant memories, he continued.
“Yeah. I think they were called the ‘Primordial Elf’ or something like that.”
“The Primordial Elf?”
“Yes. That’s all I know.”
“……”
It was the moment Alon found yet another reason to visit the elves’ village.
‘The Primordial Elf also used magic without a mental image…… huh.’
Maybe he’d be able to unravel more mysteries if he went there.
After organizing his thoughts, Alon decided to ask—or rather, request—Kylrus for one more thing.
“I heard that you used to handle Spirit Dragons. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Then can you teach me how to use a Spirit Dragon?”
“How to use a Spirit Dragon?”
The corners of Kylrus’s mouth curled into a smirk.
“Do you even know what you’re asking? You can only use a Spirit Dragon if you’ve formed a contract with one.”
A look as if he were staring at an idiot.
Instead of explaining any further, Alon simply said,
“I have one.”
And pulled out Blackie from his arms.
When Kylrus confirmed the black fluff in Alon’s hand—
[Meow?]
Seeing the unexpected Spirit Dragon,
“What the hell—”
He blurted out with an expression of sheer shock, unable to control his reaction.
***
Kylrus, who had maintained his cool demeanor until now, was utterly flustered the moment he saw Blackie.
He looked back and forth between Blackie and Alon, as if unable to comprehend.
“How did you do it?”
“……Do what?”
“How did you manage to form a contract with a Shadow Dragon, not just any fragment, but its actual core body…!”
Kylrus exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly exasperated, while Alon replied nonchalantly.
“Just kind of happened.”
“……Are you seriously brushing this off with a ‘just kind of happened’ after pulling off something this absurd?”
While ranting to himself, Kylrus glanced behind Alon and sighed.
“Well, I suppose that might be possible.”
Seeing Kylrus calm down a bit, Alon decided to ask something that had been on his mind.
“I know there’s a difference between a Spirit Dragon and a Shadow Dragon, but is it really that big?”
“There’s a tremendous difference.”
“……That much?”
“Yes, that much. In fact, today’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone form a direct contract with a Shadow Dragon.”
Watching Kylrus fuss over it, Alon glanced at Blackie, who was nestled comfortably in his arms, seemingly baking an imaginary loaf of bread.
[Meow?]
Blackie tilted its head cutely.
Alon knew Blackie was powerful.
But honestly, he’d only read about it in texts—never witnessed it firsthand—so he was still skeptical.
‘Is it really that significant?’
he thought, absentmindedly stroking Blackie’s back.
“……It seems you don’t fully understand just how lucky you are.”
Kylrus stared intently at him, then let out a hollow laugh.
“Well, fine. Since we’re in this place, I suppose I can show you.”
He raised both hands.
“……Show me what?”
“Watch closely. See for yourself what kind of fortune you’ve stumbled upon.”
Without further explanation, he began forming seals with his fingers.
Holding his left hand straight out, he moved his right hand behind it, intertwining his fingers into a strange posture.
“Void Heart.”
The moment he quietly murmured the words—
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK—!!!
From his shadow, something dark began to rise.
And then, as if it had been waiting—
“Path of the False Image.”
The ruined world began to be devoured by the shadow.
The ashen sky.
The cracked earth, the rotting trees.
The twisted grass.
Everything was consumed.
As if everything that existed was being dragged into an abyss.
“Dragon.”
The moment the word left Kylrus’s lips.
The shadow that had devoured everything began to take form.
Creating something from nothing.
Breathing life into the dark shadow.
And what was finally formed—
“Sin-Bearer Dragon of the Void Heart.”
A dragon.
A colossal dragon that loomed over the desolate world.
Covering the ruins of the world all on its own.
And then.
“This is the final stage of your Death Dragon.”
Hearing that, Alon could only gape in stunned silence.
In a world seemingly frozen under the weight of an overwhelming presence—
[Meow?]
Only Blackie’s adorable cry echoed faintly, filling the void.

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