Became the Patron of Villains

Chapter 37

Two weeks and three days had passed since Alon left Teria, the capital of the Kingdom of Asteria.

He was currently crossing the southern desert, a necessary passage before reaching Colony.

“Whew—”

Alon glanced at the scorching sun, feeling as if just breathing in and out was enough to sear his lungs.

“It’s filthy hot.”

At Evan’s voice, who was blankly staring at the sky, Alon nodded in agreement, albeit with difficulty.

No matter how well-made the carriage was, it couldn’t block out the heat.

“If only I had an Ice Crystal Stone—”

Evan was lamenting about an artifact so expensive that even purchasing one required the cost of several mansions.

His tongue hung out like a dog’s, which looked quite ridiculous, but Alon couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

The desert was, quite frankly, unbelievably scorching.

‘I should have already arrived by now... if only I’d moved a little faster...’

With a soft sigh, thoughts flickered through Alon’s mind.

In reality, Alon had arrived at the edge of the desert just over a week after heading toward Colony.

If he had entered the desert immediately back then, he could have already reached Colony.

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But there were two reasons why Alon had been lingering in the desert.

One was because he made a brief stop in another territory to prepare a gift for the Seolrang in Colony.

‘Even if it’s our first meeting, and they don’t help, I should at least bring a gift.’

As a result, even though he should have already arrived in Colony, Alon was now still traversing the desert under the scorching sun.

In retrospect, it didn’t matter whether he left early or late, as the distance to cross the desert was the same.

But as he felt the burning sun, Alon couldn’t help but feel somewhat unfair.

“Whew—”

How much time had passed since those unreasonable thoughts stirred in him?

“We’re camping here!”

Just as the blazing sun began to sink and turn into a sunset, Alon heard a voice from outside and stepped out of the carriage.

What he saw was a line of dozens of carriages on the dimming ground, each with a small lantern hanging from it.

This was the second reason Alon had delayed his departure.

“I’ve been seeing this for five days straight, but it still gives a sense of security the more I see it.”

At Evan’s remark, Alon nodded.

He had been traveling with a caravan to cross the desert.

He knew far too well that crossing such a vast desert alone was a terrible idea.

“By the way, Count.”

While watching the merchants starting to set up camp as per the caravan leader’s command, Evan spoke up.

“What is it?”

“Are you not going to practice magic?”

Though trying to act indifferent, Evan couldn’t hide the hint of anticipation in his expression.

Alon, who was momentarily puzzled, soon realized what Evan was getting at and replied.

“I plan to, but it will be different from the magic I’ve been studying so far.”

“Ah.”

Evan looked a little disappointed, but Alon had no intention of giving in.

After months of research, he had mastered his current magic to the point that practicing it now was meaningless.

“...Can’t you practice just once?”

“No.”

“Ugh...”

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Evan sighed in regret at Alon’s firm refusal.

But his disappointment was short-lived.

“Whoa, that’s just... completely flat. You’d think it was a bug.”

As the sun finally disappeared and the weather turned chilly, Alon lit a campfire and followed Evan’s gaze.

Evan was looking at five people.

One was a man dressed in quite luxurious clothes, and another was a woman with fiery red hair that seemed to symbolize flames.

Behind them stood mercenaries, each holding their respective weapons.

‘The caravan leader and the mage from the Red Tower. Not a day goes by without seeing them.’

Alon knew them well.

In fact, it was impossible not to know.

The man groveling before the red-haired mage and mercenaries was none other than the leader of the ‘Golden-Haired Caravan,’ and the mage had been picking fights with Alon at every opportunity lately.

“Look at him, offering food without fail every day. Does he have no pride?”

Evan shook his head, watching the caravan leader diligently rub his hands together and present high-quality wine and food once again.

However, both Evan and Alon understood why the caravan leader was acting so submissive toward the mage.

Rad sighed as he thought of the bandits who roamed this vast desert, targeting caravans, but his face showed no signs of fear.

And why would it? The Golden-Haired Caravan had dozens of mercenaries that Rad had hired, along with over ten B-ranked mercenaries tasked with guarding the daughter of the Red Tower Master.

In other words, Rad was confident that no ordinary group of bandits could harm the caravan.

However, the moment he saw the massive flag in the distance, Rad’s face turned pale with fear, and his eyes widened in horror.

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The banner approaching through the cloud of dust was one that no merchant should ever encounter.

‘Blood Sand...’

The name of the infamous bandit group came to Rad’s mind, and his face quickly filled with terror.

Even from a distance, it was clear there were dozens of them, and each member of the Blood Sand bandits was said to be as strong as a knight.

Swoosh!

Before Rad’s thoughts could finish, one of the bandits at the front swung a chain sickle toward a mercenary, instantly taking his life.

And with that, the battle began.

No, it was more of a massacre.

The bandits, who clearly had no intention of negotiating, slaughtered the mercenaries protecting the wagons in mere moments.

Just like that—

“Incredible, isn’t it?”

In less than two minutes, most of the mercenaries had been killed by the Blood Sand bandits, and a man stepped forward.

Wearing an eyepatch on one side and twin scimitars on his waist, he surveyed the bloody scene with a cold smile.

“Oh...”

Among the elite mercenaries still barely holding out, the man spotted the mage, Liyan, filled with fear and tension, and his twisted grin widened.

“Well, look at this. We really hit the jackpot.”

His voice was filled with excitement.

“Who are you?”

Liyan frowned and asked sharply, but the man simply drew one of the scimitars from his waist and replied.

“You’ll find out once you come with me.”

He grinned wickedly and infused his sword with magic.

As blue energy began to blaze from his sword like fire, Liyan’s expression grew grim.

Despite his casual demeanor, she felt a deep sense of dread as she recognized how powerful the aura emanating from his sword was—far beyond that of ordinary knights.

In that moment, she realized there was no way to escape.

That, perhaps, a fate worse than death awaited her.

As this terrifying thought crossed her mind, past traumas began to flood through her memories, her body trembling uncontrollably at the mere recollection.

She could feel the horrible memories gnawing away at her sanity, taking over her mind.

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But just as Liyan’s mind was on the verge of collapsing—

“-?”

—something brought her back to her senses.

It was the air.

The hyperventilation triggered by her trauma suddenly ceased.

Slowly, her breath escaped, forming a visible mist.

And in that moment, as the white vapor became visible in the air, Liyan realized something.

The air, which had been suffocatingly hot just moments ago, had now turned icy cold.

“What...?”

As Liyan stood there, dumbfounded, she noticed that the twisted grin on the man’s face had also morphed into a look of confusion.

Not only had the once-hot ground grown cold, but frost had begun to form on the sand.

And then—

Step.

In the dead silence, the sound of footsteps echoed.

The bandits turned their attention toward the sound.

The mercenaries, who had been tense and fearful just moments ago, also shifted their gaze.

The man, who had been holding his scimitars and targeting Liyan, turned his eyes as well.

And there, where Liyan, who had just been consumed by her trauma, now stared—

A man was walking forward.

Step.

His pace was neither hurried nor slow.

Step.

His expression remained impassive, as though the situation held no significance for him.

Step.

The ashen energy flowing from his bracelet merged with the surrounding cold, and finally, he stopped.

At that moment—

“Freeze—”

—Count Palatio murmured a phrase.