Even as Alon’s head spun from the eight consecutive assassination threats from Deus, the dizziness was fleeting. 

By the time Alon navigated through the throngs of mercenaries and adventurers to reach the edge of the jungle— 

“Huh?” 

Hearing a familiar voice, Alon turned his head. 

“…Count—no, Marquess Palatio?” 

“Liyan Aguilas?” 

There stood Liyan Aguilas, the daughter of the Red Tower’s leader. 

“It’s been so long, Marquess. Congratulations, by the way.” 

“It has been a while. Thank you for the congratulations.” 

Smiling warmly, Liyan shifted her gaze, only to have her eyes widen in surprise. 

“…Surely, is that who I think it is behind you?” 

“Deus Macallian.” 

Picking up on the fact that Liyan seemed to know Alon, Deus introduced himself briefly. 

Liyan, letting out a quiet wow in admiration, gave Deus a rather peculiar look before hastily clearing her throat. 

“Ahem—so, what brings you two here together?” 

Alon quickly discerned the two questions buried within her inquiry. 

‘Given that we hail from different nations, it probably seems odd for us to be traveling together like this.’ 

Not to mention, Deus’s reputation preceded him. 

“Our goals differ, but we’re accompanying each other to take care of business in the jungle,” Alon explained. 

“Ah, I see. So, is it just the two of you?” 

“No, there’s three of us,” Alon corrected. 

At that, Liyan made a suggestion. 

“Would you like to travel with us, then? Coincidentally, we’re also heading to our camp.” 

“Hmm…” 

Truthfully, with Deus around, whether they traveled as a trio or with a larger group, the likelihood of encountering danger seemed slim. 

However, the possibility of losing their way or facing unforeseen circumstances wasn’t entirely out of the question. 

“Not a bad idea.” 

Alon accepted the proposal. 

Shortly after, Liyan introduced the members of her group to Alon. 

The party consisted of fifteen magicians, five mercenaries, and a single guide. 

However, there was something unusual about the composition. 

“…They’re not all from the Red Tower?” 

“Technically, it’s a mix of Green and Red Tower personnel. This expedition is a joint collaboration between the two,” Liyan explained. 

By the time Alon nodded at this explanation— 

“What’s this?” 

A slightly gruff voice sounded nearby. 

Standing there was a man holding a staff as tall as himself, the epitome of what Alon thought a stereotypical magician looked like. 

“Theon, come and greet our guests,” Liyan called out. 

Though he furrowed his brows, the man approached, giving Alon, Evan, and Deus a quick once-over before speaking. 

“Introduce yourself. They’ll be traveling with us to the camp. This is Marquess Palatio and Deus Macallian.” 

“What?” 

Theon’s eyes widened in shock at her words, though only for a moment. 

“Greetings. I’m Theon, one of the professors at the Green Tower. You must be the famed swordsman of Caliban and the Marquess Palatio, correct?” 

He quickly composed himself, bowing politely to Deus and Alon. 

“…Pleased to meet you.” 

“…Yes, likewise.” 

After lingering his gaze on Alon for a moment, Theon suddenly turned on his heel and disappeared. 

“He’s quite young for a professor. Impressive,” Evan remarked, as if aware of the usual age at which magicians earned the title of professor. 

Liyan nodded in agreement. 

“Indeed. The Green Tower considers him an exceptional talent. He’s not even twenty-five yet, but he’s already approaching the fifth rank.” 

“Wow, the fifth rank?” 

“Yes,” Liyan confirmed, prompting another round of awe from Evan. 

Meanwhile, Alon remained silent, his expression neutral. 

After a moment, he murmured softly. 

“…Why does it feel like he’s only cold toward me?” 

Though Alon didn’t usually mind if someone was curt toward him, it was peculiar enough to give him pause. 

The sudden shift in demeanor after learning his name felt strange. 

“Ah…” 

Liyan seemed to realize the situation, offering an awkward smile. 

“Well, it’s not really a big deal.” 

“Not a big deal?” 

“Well, um…” 

Liyan hesitated briefly before confirming that Theon had already gone far ahead, then leaned in to whisper. 

“You know those rumors about you, Marquess?” 

“Rumors?” 

“Yes, the ones about Penia.” 

“Ah.” 

“The truth is, Theon likes Penia.” 

“What?” 

Alon turned to look at Theon in genuine surprise. 

Penia was undoubtedly beautiful—there was no denying that. 

But the issue lay with her personality. 

Alon knew her to have a temperament so destructive that it completely overshadowed her physical charm. 

“He likes that Penia Crysinne? That insufferable woman?” 

Baffled, Alon questioned her with an incredulous expression. 

“…Are you saying that man has feelings for Penia?” 

“Yes.” 

“But why…? No, wait. Is that rude to ask?” 

“Not really. Honestly, I don’t understand it myself,” Liyan admitted, glancing toward where Theon had disappeared. 

“Especially since Theon once got utterly humiliated by her.” 

Liyan’s expression revealed her own disbelief, but she quickly shrugged it off. 

“Anyway, it seems like he’s just acting a bit childish because of that.” 

“…Alright, I get it,” Alon said, choosing not to press the matter further. 

Normally, he might have contemplated why a grown man was indulging in such petty jealousy, but his curiosity about Theon’s peculiar behavior far outweighed any deeper reflection. 

‘…Is he a masochist?’ 

Just as Alon reached that conclusion— 

“Marquess—” 

“There’s no need for that.” 

Deus, who had been waiting for the right moment to speak, was immediately cut off by Alon, who responded decisively without even hearing the rest. 

“…Understood.” 

Deus reluctantly withdrew his hand from the hilt of his sword, a disappointed look crossing his face. 

“Deus.” 

“Yes, Marquess?” 

“Have you been experiencing any auditory hallucinations or intrusive thoughts lately?” 

“…? Not at all,” Deus replied, looking genuinely puzzled. 

Despite the denial, Alon’s unease only deepened. 

***

After some time, Alon and his group continued traveling with Liyan’s party toward the exploration camp. 

Thanks to their diligence, they arrived just before sunset. 

“…This feels different,” Evan remarked. 

“Does it?” 

“Yeah. Honestly, I expected something more primitive, but it’s practically a small town.” 

Alon nodded in agreement. 

“True enough. With all the magicians and explorers frequenting this place, it’s bound to develop.” 

“Are there no monsters here?” 

“It’s not that there aren’t any, but monsters rarely appear in areas where the camps are set up,” Alon explained, recounting the lore he remembered from the game. 

Evan marveled at this, while Alon took in the camp’s layout. 

‘It feels different compared to the illustrations I saw.’ 

Though his memory was faint, the illustrations of this area in <Psychedelia> gave off the impression of a typical village. However, seeing it in person, the camp felt more like a sprawling, well-organized settlement—a mix of a giant encampment and a town. 

The mishmash of wooden houses and tents, though chaotic in arrangement, provided everything one might need, from shops to inns. 

While Alon was lost in thought, admiring the scenery— 

“Marquess, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Liyan said, preparing to leave. 

“Alright.” 

Having learned that Liyan’s destination was also the Malacca Ruins, Alon had agreed to accompany her group the next day. 

“Let’s rest for the night,” Alon suggested to his companions. 

“Good idea,” Evan agreed. 

“Understood,” Deus added. 

The group entered an inn to rest for the evening. 

***

The next day. 

The jungle’s inherent humidity had disrupted Alon’s sleep somewhat, leaving him slightly restless. 

“I’ll go look for Reinhardt. I’ll be back later.” 

“Alright. Let’s meet again tonight.” 

“Understood.” 

“Do you remember what I told you?” 

“If you mean the blessing, yes, I remember.” 

“Yes, do your best to receive it before proceeding. It’s better to have the blessing if you plan to move in that direction.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Alon and Deus agreed to separate temporarily to accomplish their respective objectives before regrouping. 

‘Though I’d rather keep him close…’ 

Alon let Deus go without hesitation, knowing that Deus also had his own tasks to attend to. As long as Deus didn’t venture into Selvanus or any uncharted regions, there was little risk to his safety. 

Shortly after, Alon joined Liyan’s group without Deus. 

“…Deus Macallian won’t be joining us?” 

“As I said, our goals are different.” 

“I see.” 

Liyan appeared somewhat disappointed as they continued their journey toward the Malacca Ruins. 

‘The sooner we finish in this jungle, the better.’ 

Such thoughts filled Alon’s mind as they moved forward. 

***

Meanwhile, at that very moment… 

In the deep dungeons of the Holy Kingdom Rosario—reserved only for the vilest of criminals—there was a place known as the Abyssal Prison. 

Inside that forbidding place… 

A man with no legs, Anderede, was alive. 

Despite the searing agony radiating from his body, his face bore a glimmer of hope. 

‘I can’t die yet.’ 

The reason he was still alive—or more accurately, the reason he had been able to possess this man’s body—was that the prisoner had been one of the machina components Anderede himself had created. 

By implanting tree-like roots into those connected to his machina, Anderede had managed to transfer his consciousness into the prisoner’s body just as his original body was destroyed during the Marquess’s attack. 

Though his body had been utterly shattered, preventing immediate escape, this had been part of his contingency plan. 

In the Abyssal Prison, where no one visited save for the occasional delivery of moldy bread, he bided his time, slowly regaining his strength and taking over the prisoner’s body completely. 

Soon, the prisoner’s face, covered in crimson roots, morphed into Anderede’s own. 

His legs, too, began to regenerate slowly. 

As he confirmed these transformations, Anderede gritted his teeth, eyes ablaze with ambition. 

“I won’t let it end like this. I’ll prepare once again… and create a world where everyone is equal!” 

Gone was the benevolent smile or faith he once carried. Instead, a madness-fueled obsession gave him new hope. 

At that moment— 

“…Huh?” 

Anderede saw something. 

In the Abyssal Prison, where no one should have been able to enter due to its thick iron doors, stood a man with black hair and piercing blue eyes. 

The man smiled innocently as he looked at Anderede. 

“Hello.” 

The cheerful greeting left Anderede speechless—or rather, incapable of responding. 

He couldn’t comprehend the situation. 

But whether Anderede responded or not, the man continued. 

“Well, to be honest, I don’t really care about what kind of world you’re dreaming of or what you’re trying to do. I’m not even that angry.” 

The man’s husky voice carried an unsettling casualness as he added: 

“…But, you see, messing with His Holiness? Even I can’t let that slide.” 

Raising his hand— 

Snap! 

Anderede realized, too late, that his neck was twisting against his will. 

“Wait, no—! No, stop! Stop it! Stopstopstopstopstopstop!” 

Desperate, he flailed and struggled, but— 

Crack! 

His neck completed two full rotations, and death claimed him. 

“That’s what you get for pushing your luck.” 

The man, who had snuffed out Anderede’s delusional ambitions, strolled off into the darkness, vanishing without a trace. 

Left behind was Anderede’s lifeless body, eyes wide open in disbelief.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep