Chapter 429 : The Seeker (8) Raising Villains the Right Way

Chapter 429 : The Seeker (8)

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The ‍‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‍official sequel made by the same developers who created Psychedelia, which Alon had enjoyed playing—yet a game he himself had never tried.

NovelFire reader preview #512970fb123f (issued 2026-07-17).

Thus, when he first heard the name Contanias, only the stories Evan had told him came to mind, and no other information surfaced.

However, at this very moment—

Upon hearing the absurd words he had just spoken, fragmented memories about Contanias finally rose within Alon’s mind.

Of course, he did not know under what circumstances he had come to be called a traitor.

He had never played Calypsophobia, after all.

He was a character notorious in the community for his verbal abuse.

Even Alon, who had never played Calypsophobia, had read about it once or twice.

Certainly, even now his tone was archaic, but the way he spoke did not feel purely fantastical.

Alon found himself looking at Contanias anew.

Contanias, who had likewise been staring at Alon, twisted the corner of his mouth into a sneer.

At that moment—

Snap!

With the sound of fingers snapping, Contanias, who had been there just a moment ago, vanished without a trace.

It happened in an instant.

As Alon looked to the side in confusion—

“My apologies.”

The mask, who had been watching Contanias’ verbal abuse from nearby, bowed its head.

“What just happened?”

“It seemed an unnecessary fight was about to occur, so I sent him back.”

“……”

“That’s possible?”

“Yes. At least within the tower.”

As Alon marveled at the words—

Thud—! Thudududung—!

Footsteps began echoing from afar.

They drew near in an instant.

There stood Contanias, charging forward at a speed no ordinary human could possibly achieve.

He clearly possessed ability beyond that of a mere knight.

Alon watched him approach with an exceedingly hostile expression.

Snap—!

Once more, the sound of snapping fingers rang out, and Contanias disappeared.

A roar followed shortly after.

Alon thought briefly, then turned to the mask.

“But is that really alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“Contanias.”

Though he seemed like a complete delinquent at a glance, at this moment when the Empire had split into four, Contanias was the Emperor of the Northern Empire.

It was only natural to feel concern.

However—

“The Seeker does not wish for the rulers to fight. Preventing unnecessary conflict is my duty.”

“That seems rather forceful for prevention.”

“If I did not, it seemed inevitable he would cause trouble.”

The mask remained composed.

In either case, its handling of matters appeared decisive.

Alon felt the curiosity he had set aside about the Seeker rise once more.

The Seeker.

Perhaps mentioned in Calypsophobia, but in Psychedelia it had only appeared through the Contract of Structure, merely hinting at a sequel or DLC.

Thus, there had been no information about the Seeker.

According to Nangwon, whom he had spoken with upon coming to this tower, this place had appeared one day without warning.

“Regardless, I apologize for having you experience such a thing.”

Lost in thought, Alon came back to himself at the sound.

The mask bowed again.

Alon slowly waved a hand.

“It’s fine.”

“Thank you for your understanding. It seems today’s meeting would not go well, so perhaps it would be best to arrange another day.”

“Very well.”

It was time to return to his room under the skull mask’s guidance.

***

Several days passed after that, yet nothing significant had changed within the tower.

Naturally, no substantial information about the Seeker had been obtained.

From the moment Alon arrived until now, he had not once seen the Seeker’s face.

As a result, with essentially no information, he merely waited for the designated day, greeting those who arrived at the tower one by one as the date approached.

And then, when the day finally came—

“It is time.”

“Shall I go?”

“Yes. It is time for all to gather.”

Alon followed the mask without complaint.

“You’ve arrived, My Lord.”

“You’ve come, my friend.”

Upon reaching the vast conference hall, familiar faces greeted him.

The first to catch his eye were Yutia and Siyan.

“Brother.”

“Hmph, you’re here.”

Following them, Karsem and Palmarion greeted him as though they had been waiting.

Alon lightly returned their greetings and sat where the mask guided him.

He had already met and conversed with them over the past few days.

Siyan had arrived late last night, so they had not spoken yet.

When Alon looked at Siyan, she looked back at him.

She wore a faint, inscrutable smile.

After their brief exchange of glances, Alon shifted his gaze to survey the hall.

Aside from those he had greeted, there were also figures he did not recognize.

As he scanned the room, Alon realized that the emperors of each Empire had not yet arrived.

The bright platinum-blond hair that symbolized imperial bloodlines was nowhere to be seen.

Just then—

The door opposite where Alon sat opened, and a man entered.

With radiant platinum-blond hair, unmistakably of imperial blood.

The moment he stepped in, the relatively calm atmosphere of the hall shifted.

Among those seated, Yuman beside Yutia, Palmarion, and several others either blatantly avoided his gaze or shot him hostile looks.

The atmosphere had changed abruptly.

Yet Alon was not flustered.

He had anticipated this to some extent.

Though Alon had avoided gatherings among the rulers over the past few days, such rumors had already spread.

Thus he was not surprised.

The man who altered the air merely by entering swept his gaze across the table with amiable-looking eyes—unlike the other imperial-blooded figures.

Then, when his eyes met Alon’s—

“!”

He broke into a bright smile.

“?”

Alon looked confused at the sudden reaction.

But the man approached him without hesitation.

“Greetings, Mr. Alon.”

He smiled flawlessly as he offered his greeting.

Alon, momentarily blank, instinctively stood and grasped his hand.

“Y-Yes, it’s a pleasure.”

“Yes!”

“By the way—”

As Alon was about to ask something, the man seemed to realize something and let out a small exclamation.

“My apologies, I introduced myself too late.”

His smile, suspiciously pure and fundamentally different from those Alon had heard of or seen, deepened.

“I am Nataman, who humbly leads the Western Empire.”

“I look forward to working with you,” he added with a bow.

Alon searched his memory.

As he looked at the bright-faced man, he felt a strange sense of dissonance.

Yes—dissonance.

As though he had seen that expression somewhere before—

Alon’s mind flashed.

He realized.

His smile resembled Eliban’s.

And as Alon felt that sense of déjà vu—

Yutia’s red eyes silently observed Nataman.

Quietly.

And silently.

Unfortunately, Alon did not get to speak further with Nataman, the Emperor of the Western Empire.

For soon after, as the other fragmented emperors of the Empire entered—

[All are gathered.]

As if waiting for that moment, a figure appeared at the head seat that had been empty until now.

He could not properly see the Seeker’s form.

Though light filled the tower, the Seeker’s appearance was dark, as if submerged in pitch-black night.

Even more astonishing—

—Nothing could be sensed from the Seeker.

At some point, Alon had gained the ability to perceive traces of mana.

Even if someone was not actively using mana, mere recognition allowed him to gauge them to some extent.

Yet from the Seeker, none of that could be felt.

As though he were not a living being.

As Alon felt a strange tension—

[From this moment, the Contract of Structure shall be executed.]

The Seeker’s voice resounded.

[Excluding the fourteen rulers present here, the remaining thirty-three are judged to have abandoned their duty. Their contracts are revoked.]

[Those gathered here are henceforth deemed to be fulfilling the Contract of Structure.]

[Beginning tomorrow, you shall participate in the ‘Conference,’ and thereafter, through due procedure, you will receive a share of ‘power.’]

Having declared this with a resonant aura, the Seeker vanished in an instant without allowing questions.

“……What?”

“Is that it?”

Silence fell abruptly.

As the other rulers murmured in confusion—

[This concludes the opening ceremony. We ask that you participate in the Conference beginning tomorrow.]

As if prepared, the skull mask appeared and bowed politely.

The attendees frowned in unison.

In this wartime situation, had they not summoned the heads of kingdoms?

And this was all?

It felt like a waste of time.

Negative emotions surfaced across their faces.

Yet, as though there was nothing to be done, they began to rise.

“It seems that’s the end, brother.”

“Indeed.”

As Alon moved to stand along with Yuman—

“Hey, you there.”

A rude voice flew toward him.

Alon turned.

Contanias, Emperor of the North, glared at him with visible irritation.

“What is it?”

Alon asked.

Contanias let out a scoffing laugh.

“Do the fools of the Allied Kingdom Alliance not know what manners are?”

“……Manners?”

“Yes. If you’ve caused harm, it’s only natural to apologize.”

“Harm?”

“Yes. Sitting in the same place as me and making me this displeased.”

Alon went blank for a moment.

The provocation was absurdly blatant.

And yet, laughably, it was filled with sincerity.

Alon recalled a few days ago—

When the man had verbally abused him and been sent back to his room.

Remembering that, Alon could roughly guess his intention.

It was bothersome even to respond.

Behind him, Yutia and Yuman’s expressions hardened.

And at that moment—

Baaang—!

Contanias’ body flew through the air and slammed into the table.

Crash! Crack!

With a thunderous noise, he rolled across the long table before crashing into the tower’s inner wall.

Alon’s mouth fell open involuntarily.

Such sudden violence(?).

That alone was shocking—

But the true reason Alon was stunned was—

“Brother? You shouldn’t speak so rudely.”

The Western Empire’s Emperor Nataman—

Who had worn such a gentle smile while speaking with Alon—

Had just smashed Contanias’ face in.

“Hmm?”

With a chilling smile.

“…??”

Of course, apart from that—

Alon’s mind was filled with only one thought.

What in the world is happening……?

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