The battle with the goblins ended in complete victory.
Thanks to the knights and mercenaries maintaining their composure, the frontline held firm. Alon's magic once again annihilated a detachment of goblins attempting to strike from behind, turning the tide decisively. Despite the hundreds of mutated goblins, casualties were minimal—an impressive outcome given the scale.
The final blow came when a knight drove his sword through the skull of the last goblin. As the soldiers confirmed the battle was truly over, they collectively exhaled in relief and turned their eyes toward Alon.
He stood amid the corpses, expressionless, as if the battle had left not the slightest impression on him. That unshaken calm made the mercenaries regard him with awe. None of them could forget how he had reduced dozens of goblins into chunks of flesh without a single change in expression.
But inside, Alon was screaming.
I nearly died in one hit…!
His face remained placid, but his heart was still thrashing wildly. Even with the Insignia of the Impure, which allowed him to cast three times more spells than normal, after using walls and shields twice each, his mana was emptied. He had been no different from an ordinary man.
Thank goodness the knights won.The odds of losing had been low, even against mutated goblins. But being reduced to helplessness had filled him with raw fear.
Maybe I should have withdrawn sooner… No. Staying close was the right choice. But more importantly…
Having finally calmed himself, Alon looked down at the goblin corpse before him. His eyes hardened.
He knew exactly what the purple amethyst protruding from its flesh meant.
"Why… a divine descent?"
It was a phenomenon that occurred when an Outer God attempted to descend upon the world. Monsters affected by divine descent became far stronger and monstrously ferocious.
The current group could handle mutated monsters on the way to the Duke's territory—but that wasn't the concern. The true problem was that the phenomenon had occurred at all.
It meant an Outer God would soon descend.
Normally, such gods required the appearance of one of the Five Great Sins to descend. Yet now—even borderland gods were beginning to pierce through.
This is… terrible.
The descent of Outer Gods was a disaster. While not as world-ending as the Great Sins, a single rampaging god could destroy an entire kingdom. There were only six kingdoms on the continent excluding the Empire—meaning his future had a one-in-three chance of being completely ruined.
If he even lived long enough to have a future.
But if Alon was troubled, others were even worse.
Count Crylde and Count Edolon looked as though their entire lives had collapsed.
A few days after the mutated goblin incident—and with only one day left until reaching the Duke's estate—Alon noticed two changes.
The first was that the nobles, who had previously mocked and dismissed him, no longer dared to show such expressions.
The second was more absurd.
"Count Palatio, this meat is from my estate. Please, enjoy it!"
"Count, if it pleases you, I could offer support to your domain. Truly, anything you need!"
Counts Crylde and Edolon, who had spent days ridiculing him, now hovered beside him eagerly, offering gifts and flattery with desperate smiles. Alon remained indifferent, but the counts were practically groveling.
The power Alon had displayed earlier was far too overwhelming to attribute to "luck." They still remembered the 3rd-tier mage Baron Amon had brought—the man had stated with certainty that Alon's magic exceeded 2nd-tier.
That single statement had shattered their assumptions.
Suddenly, the rumors about Palatio wiping out Avalon in a single night no longer seemed absurd.
If Alon truly wielded that power, then protecting themselves—and their families—required one thing: gaining his favor immediately.
For nobles who knew the history of the Palatio family's cruelty, the decision was obvious.
So, over the next few days, Alon enjoyed a luxurious diet of meat and fine wine instead of the tasteless food he had endured earlier. Yet even then, his mind stayed focused only on the divine descent.
Who could it be…?
There was no way to know. Divine descent merely signaled that a god was coming—nothing more. Not which god, not where, not when.
It was pointless to dwell on it.
But he couldn't help it.
His future could collapse with no warning. His status as a noble could vanish. Everything he had built could disappear.
"I'll gather information as soon as we reach the estate."
He glanced at the nobles beside him, who had tossed aside all dignity to make up for their past mockery. It reminded him of the Palatio family's infamous reputation.
I didn't think they'd react this strongly over a rumor…
Despite understanding their fear, Alon had no intention of comforting them.
He was rational, yes—but not above petty satisfaction.
Their humiliating pandering continued until they arrived at Duke Rotegre's estate.
The Duke's estate was far beyond Alon's expectations. The mansion alone was colossal—no, there were multiple mansions. Dozens.
How many does one person need?He soon learned the truth: they belonged to the Duke's concubines.
"…How is the Duke even alive?" Alon thought wryly.
But the true shock awaited him inside the ballroom.
Every object screamed wealth. Even the wine glasses glimmered with gold rims. The chandeliers, made entirely of gold, tempted Alon to steal one and sell it.
Nobles filled the ballroom, centered around the frighteningly thin Duke Rotegre.
Alon didn't bother joining their discussions. Standing quietly, he snacked on food and listened in on conversations while Evan went to contact the information guild.
As he savored a dessert resembling an egg tart—surprisingly delicious—he overheard an interesting conversation.
"Baron Daldoran, have you heard the news?"
"What news?"
"The rumor that Duke Altia and Count Zenonia not only formed an alliance but are creating a faction."
"Ah, yes. I've heard."
The two nobles moved to a quieter corner, whispering. But Alon's enhanced hearing easily caught every word.
"If that faction truly forms, it will overpower all the existing factions combined."
"It would be unprecedented."
Alon was mildly surprised, though he expressed nothing. Even if true, he doubted the alliance would last.
Still munching, he blinked in delight—this egg tart was excellent—and reached for another.
Then the conversation took an unexpected turn.
"But that's not the real issue."
"There's more?"
"Of course."
"What is it?"
"This rumor is extremely sensitive, so keep it quiet. Apparently… neither Duke Altia nor Count Zenonia is the leader of the faction."
"…What? Then who?"
"The supposed leader is… Count Palatio."
"…Count Palatio?"
"Yes. They say the faction's leader is Count Palatio."
"Is that true?"
"Absolutely. Would I joke about something like this?"
"…What…?"
Alon snapped his head toward them, eyes wide—his mouth hanging open in disbelief.