Became the Patron of Villains

Leetanka, an F-rank fighter participating in this battle royale, ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) honestly thought he might be able to take down Count Palatio.

Of course, this wasn’t because he underestimated Alon’s strength.
No matter how much Alon might be ignorant of the ways of the world, it made no sense to dismiss the already infamous Count Palatio.
The reason he thought this was simple—because the Count was a magician.

Essentially, magicians needed time to cast spells.
The higher the rank of the spell, the shorter the casting time, but there was always a slight delay.
And in this confined arena, Leetanka knew that this delay would give fighters enough time to strike.

That’s why, despite his tension, he believed he had a chance.
After confirming that Count Palatio was part of this battle royale, Leetanka gathered all the other fighters, confident they could take him down together.
However, Leetanka’s arrogance was quickly shattered the moment Alon’s magic unfolded.

“What the… this is insane—”
He couldn’t help but let out an exclamation as he stared blankly upward.
Dozens of ice pillars were entangled, forming a small mountain.

At the peak of that mountain, the man stood, gazing down at the fighters with no emotion, just cold indifference.
While all the fighters held their weapons, paralyzed and unsure of what to do, overwhelmed by the sight, Alon exhaled a frosty breath amidst the chilling cold, watching them.
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‘So far, everything is going according to plan,’ Alon thought as he formed a hand seal.
In truth, before entering today’s battle royale, Alon had agonized over which magic to use.
He was used to fighting stronger opponents, so most of his spells targeted individuals rather than groups.

Knowing he could only cast magic six times, he foresaw this situation and, after much deliberation, settled on his strategy.
‘What I need here is magic that can cover the widest range with enough power to take down F-rank fighters.’
With that conclusion, he arranged his spells.
Wong—!

“Enhance.”
Soon, a shield formed in the center of the massive iceberg Alon had created.
“Compress.”

Following his command, the center of the enormous iceberg compressed into the shape of a large dome.
The center of the mountain instantly transformed into a spherical shape, making the structure look unstable.
The spectators silently gasped in awe at the sight.

The enormous sphere floating at the heart of the iceberg, on the verge of collapse, looked like a magical work of art.
But then.
“Vacuum.”

As soon as Alon spoke again, the shield, which had just been compressed into what looked like a sphere of magical energy, shrank even further.
“Return to the Primordial.”
With Alon’s final words,

Boooom!!!
The iceberg exploded, sweeping away the fighters gathered around it.
The fragile snow-capped mountain crumbled with a deafening roar.

White dust rose into the air.
And when the white cloud settled, what remained on the battlefield was…
Alon. Alone.

The silence that followed lasted only a moment.
[Ah, ahem! The winner of the battle royale is Alon Palatio!!!!!]
The commentator, who had been flustered, quickly regained his composure and announced the result.

In his ears, the sound of thunderous cheers began to echo.
Alon thought to himself.
‘If it hadn’t ended in one shot, it could have been dangerous.’

He felt the mana hole within him empty, having used more magical power than expected due to the large range of the spell, and broke into a small cold sweat.
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‘Looks like I’ll need to practice adjusting the spell arrangement more.’

One more task had been added to his to-do list.

***
Right after the battle royale ended, Alon, who had instantly been promoted from an F-rank fighter to a D-rank fighter eligible to issue challenges, was thinking about which C-rank fighter he would challenge next.

“Count.”
“What is it, Evan?”
“…Yutia sent a gift.”

“A gift?”
“Yes.”
Upon hearing this from Evan, who had been waiting at the guild, Alon quickly made his way to his room and saw a staff placed on the desk.

It was the Sparrow Staff he had been trying to acquire.
“She sent this as a gift?”
“Yes. She said you’d like it.”

Evan’s words left Alon perplexed as he examined the staff. Even after inspecting it, he confirmed it was indeed the Sparrow Staff.
‘…What is this?’
His expression turned blank.

It was no wonder. From what he knew, access to the Colony’s treasure vault required one to prove their qualifications as a fighter.
The Colony’s royal family had upheld this tradition since they established the kingdom, so Alon never even considered buying items from the treasure vault with money, knowing it was impossible.
Which led him to wonder.

‘How did she manage this?’
Though curious about how Yutia had acquired the Sparrow Staff for him, Alon set the question aside for now, deciding to feel grateful toward her.
Thanks to her, he had obtained the item he had originally intended to acquire.

‘Since I’ve exhausted my mana today, I won’t be able to use it. I’ll give it a try tomorrow.’
Feeling as if he had received a gift from a well-raised daughter, Alon gripped the Sparrow Staff in his hand.
The next day.

As Alon infused mana into the staff, just as “it” had described,
[…Huh? Who are you? Why are you waking me up?]
A gruff middle-aged man’s voice, full of irritation at the world, echoed in his mind.

“I am Alon Palatio.”
[So what?]
“I was introduced by the Dragonkin.”

[So what?]
“…”
Alon felt a sudden headache, instinctively sensing that the conversation would be difficult, but pressed on.

“You don’t seem to like long conversations, so I’ll get straight to the point. I heard you’re a mage.”
[…Looks like there’s still at least one idiot left in this world of morons.]
“…I was told by the Dragonkin that you’d reveal your glyphs and phrases to me. Can you do that?”

[What good would knowing that do you?]
“I plan to use them.”
At Alon’s answer, the voice inside the staff let out a deep sigh after a brief silence.

[I thought you were at least a fool with some knowledge, but it turns out you’re just a complete idiot.]
The middle-aged voice continued, filled with blatant disdain.
[Hey, idiot, do you really think knowing my glyphs and phrases means you’ll be able to use them?]

“If I couldn’t use them, I wouldn’t have asked. The Dragonkin said you’d explain everything clearly.”
[Stop talking about things you’ll never be able to do. You haven’t even inherited my mental image, so how could you possibly use my glyphs?]
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The voice in the staff spat out words laced with denial, as if dismissing the entire conversation.
Just as Alon fell silent, pondering the situation.
“Count!”

Suddenly, Evan burst through the door.
“What is it?”
“You’ve received a challenge request.”

“From whom?”
“From an A-rank fighter. The name is… ‘Philcion.’”

The Colosseum came to deliver the message. How should I respond?”

At Evan’s question, Alon briefly considered it with some confusion.
‘An A-rank fighter, challenging me? …It’s not impossible, but…’
D-rank fighters were allowed to challenge fighters ranked one tier above them, but A-rank fighters could issue challenges to lower-ranked fighters as they wished.

However, it was uncommon for A-rank fighters to challenge lower-ranked fighters. If they didn’t fight against others of their own rank, they risked their standing, and if they lost, they would be demoted. The risk was too great.
But for Alon, this was an opportunity to rise to the A-rank in one swift move without having to fight several battles.
After a brief pause, Alon made his decision.

“If you don’t believe me, why don’t we make a bet?”
[…Huh?]
Alon smiled at the staff.

***
One day later.
Philcion, the A-rank fighter who had issued the challenge to Count Palatio, walked out from the opposite side of the Colosseum’s arena, eyeing the man entering the battlefield.

‘As expected.’
Count Palatio, stepping into the arena amidst thunderous cheers, caught Philcion’s gaze.
Philcion smirked to himself.

In truth, this wasn’t a good match for him.
As an A-rank fighter, beating Count Palatio, a D-rank fighter, wouldn’t bring Philcion any glory, and if he lost, he would be demoted from A-rank to D-rank.
But despite that, there was one reason Philcion had issued the challenge to Count Palatio.

To generate buzz.
It was true that Count Palatio, standing before him, was a D-rank fighter, but his strength had already been proven multiple times through rumors.
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Moreover, his power was definitively confirmed during the recent battle royale, making him even more famous within the Colony.
In other words, what Philcion wanted was to defeat Alon and steal the spotlight from him.
He had heard rumors that the vacant position of Baba Yaga would soon be filled by one of the A-rank fighters, chosen by the royal family.

In short, for Philcion, whose goal was to become the next Baba Yaga, this event was a rare opportunity he could not afford to miss. That’s why he took the gamble, though he was confident he could defeat the Count.
Of course, Philcion wasn’t underestimating Count Palatio.
As mentioned, there were many rumors about his strength, and he had already proven his power in the Colosseum.

Ignoring Count Palatio would be a foolish act, something no fighter should ever do.
Especially not fighters.
However, there was one reason Philcion was confident.

‘Count Palatio only uses ice magic.’
Of course, he knew that magicians could use other spells aside from their primary magic.
But he also knew that if it wasn’t their specialty, the power of those spells would be significantly weaker.

Moreover, before sending the challenge, Philcion had thoroughly investigated and confirmed that Alon only used ice magic, which further boosted his confidence.
And with good reason.
Smirk

His race, the Flameclan, was inherently capable of wielding fire, an element with a strong advantage over ice magic.
No matter how powerful Alon’s ice magic was, it would naturally weaken in the face of the high-temperature flames Philcion controlled, which brought a smile to his face.
[And now, let the match begin!]

As soon as the commentator’s voice fell, Philcion unleashed his flames.
Whoosh!
The fire surged, making the already hot ground boil even more, drawing gasps from the audience.

At the same time, the cold began to rise from around Alon, threatening to engulf the arena.
But.
“Humph—”

Unfortunately, Alon’s frost could not reach where Philcion stood.
‘As I thought!’
Philcion twisted his lips into a grin and drew his twin swords.

‘How should I finish this? In one strike? Or should I wait for the Count to cast a spell and then finish him? No, I can’t drag this out for too long. Better to make it as impactful as possible.’
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Philcion, already thinking as though he had won.

But, unfortunately for him, his blissful thoughts were cut short.
“Array of Thunder.”
The moment Alon uttered a new incantation, it was over.

Crackle!
Brilliant blue sparks began to surround Alon’s body, clearly visible to everyone.