I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 344

Mildred smiled faintly. "I wouldn’t want to take away the pleasure of seeing for yourself. It’s not far from here, after all."

"That sounds no different than just giving me the answer." Ian chuckled, glancing briefly at Nila, who had wandered over to the wall and plopped herself down.

"So, you’re the gate captain now?"

"That’s correct, sir."

"Surprising. I thought you’d be stationed at the front lines."

Mildred’s smile momentarily faded.

"... Orders are orders, and I have no choice but to obey."

His tone and expression showed a subtle hint of shame, likely embarrassment for not being deployed to the front.

Ian saw no reason to press the matter. Instead, he directed his gaze toward the two guards stationed on the opposite side of the gate and asked, "It doesn’t seem like you’ve got many troops here. How many are stationed?"

"Only ten soldiers remain. Just enough to handle inspections and provide minimal defense if needed."

Not much at all.

Ian nodded thoughtfully.

Beyond the now-open gates, the advancing barbarian legion came into view—the cavalry leading the way, followed by warriors escorting supply wagons.

Mildred let out a quiet breath of amazement. "You’ve really formed a new battalion. No, calling that a legion wouldn’t be an exaggeration. The rumors were true, then. Truly remarkable. ... Though,"

His gaze returned to Ian. "I was equally surprised when I heard you’d been appointed Margrave of the snowfield."

"Only a temporary assignment. I don’t intend to stay and govern them permanently."

"That will upset many. Those warriors especially." Mildred glanced toward the cavalry entering through the gates. The entrance was large enough to allow three riders to pass side-by-side with room to spare.

"An acquaintance of yours?" Miguel, walking alongside the centurions, gave Mildred a quick glance and asked Ian.

"An old comrade, you could say," Ian replied with a shrug.

"A comrade...? Ah, I see. Someone you fought alongside here, I take it."

"Don’t worry about it. Just keep moving. You know where to go, don’t you?"

"Of course."

Miguel nodded and continued forward, while Ian added, "Have one of them stay behind."

Before the words had fully left his mouth, one of the centurions peeled away from the group—Alder of Red Rock. The other centurions clicked their tongues in frustration at being beaten to the punch and moved on. Following them, the barbarian warriors marched in formation around the supply wagons.

Mildred, watching the procession, turned back to Ian. "It’s already dark. Are you really planning to march straight through? We could set up a camp for you, sir."

"No need," Ian replied, shaking his head. "If we keep moving through the night, we’ll reach the settlement by morning. We’ll rest there."

"Night march, huh? Your troops must be in excellent condition. How many days has it taken you to get here?"

"Tomorrow makes it a week," Ian said.

"... From the Snowfield to here?"

Ian nodded, and for a moment, Mildred’s mouth hung slightly open in astonishment.

Mildred let out a low exclamation as he turned his gaze back to the passing warriors. "Good heavens... You’ve arrived faster than the undead legion."

"Well, we’re short on time," Ian replied calmly.

As Mildred scanned the faces of the warriors, admiration flickered across his features.

"The barbarian warriors truly are remarkable in their resilience."

While their expressions betrayed exhaustion from the relentless march through the bitter cold, they appeared surprisingly composed for having endured such grueling conditions.

Of course, Mildred couldn’t have known that it was all thanks to the blessing of the Blazing Goddess. The warriors and their mounts were shielded from the cold, felt minimal fatigue, and needed only half their usual rest.

Though this meant the blessing’s duration would decrease more quickly, Ian was confident it would last until they reached the front lines. His concern lay more with the lifespan of the sacred flame they’d left behind.

"With the right equipment, they’ll undoubtedly become a formidable new legion," Mildred added.

Ian smirked slightly and nodded. "You’re right. Their equipment is lacking for their skill level. That’s why we’ve been seeking assistance during the journey."

"Assistance? In what way?"

"We passed through the barrier fortress," Ian explained. "Borrowed surplus weapons and mounts. Even with reduced forces, such places always maintain extra supplies."

He cast a knowing glance at Mildred. "And I imagine Bellium is no different."

Mildred blinked, quickly catching the underlying meaning. Ian’s smirk deepened; he’d intended to bring this up anyway, but Mildred’s own words had conveniently opened the door.

"Goodness, you truly haven’t changed at all, sir," Mildred said with a sigh, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. He was likely recalling the old days of negotiating contracts with Ian.

"But do you truly need additional support? You won’t be able to arm your entire force, and surely the Archduke will provide ample resources."

Ian shrugged. "One can never have too many supplies for battle."

...And I’m not about to rely on the Archduke alone.

He kept the latter thought to himself. While he doubted Archduke Olaf would skimp on military supplies—especially with the armories of Karlingion at his disposal—Ian couldn’t put full trust in him. This was the same man who had no qualms about sacrificing soldiers like pawns.

There was also the chance that Karlingion’s reserves weren’t as plentiful as expected. It wouldn’t be surprising if most usable equipment had already been requisitioned during the reorganization of the frontline forces.

As a commander, Ian understood the impulse to prioritize his troops above all else. He intended to take every opportunity to fully arm his warriors, ensuring they could at least wield weapons forged from Imperial steel to stand a chance against the tainted beasts of the Black Wall.

"You’re absolutely right. You care deeply for them, sir," Mildred murmured, glancing back at the now-passed procession.

Ian shrugged again and added, "So, can I take that as a yes to opening the armory?"

"Of course. Gladly." Mildred nodded without hesitation, stroking his narrow chin thoughtfully. "Though I fear there may not be much worth taking. Anything we don’t use ourselves is yours to have. We also have five warhorses; please take them as well."

"Excellent. Thank you." Ian spread his fingers wide, gesturing toward Alder, who was waiting in the distance.

Alder responded with a sharp grin, quickly turning his horse. He rode off to join the retreating formation, separating one supply cart and five wildling warriors from the group.

"The soldiers will guide them," said Mildred, having finished giving a few quick orders to the guards. Ian glanced at the two guards, then nodded toward the approaching wildling warriors.

"I’ll leave it to you."

"Yes, sir!" The guards snapped to attention and hurried off, clearly doing their best to show respect to the Northern hero.

Ian gave a small shrug. "They’ll handle the transport. I’ll just do the final inspection and sorting."

"Understood, sir. You truly haven’t changed," Mildred commented, regarding Ian with a mixture of admiration and something deeper.

"You’re heading to the front lines, yet you show no fear—just as you were back then."

"Fearless? Hardly," Ian replied with a faint chuckle, watching the barbarian warriors and soldiers head toward the wall’s stairs.

"I’m afraid—always have been. Back then, and now too. That’s why I'm preparing."

"... Even you feel fear, sir?"

"Why wouldn’t I?" Ian said with a wry smile. "I’ve never understood why people assume otherwise."

Unlike Ian’s light-hearted tone, Mildred didn’t laugh. Instead, he studied Ian’s profile for a moment before lowering his gaze.

"I’m ashamed," he admitted quietly. "You’re heading back to the front lines despite your fear, and yet here I am, left in the safety of the rear."

Ian’s lips curved slightly higher at the corners. "Don’t beat yourself up over it. A knight obeys orders—it’s only natural."

"When I was ordered to remain here in Bellium, I... wasn’t disappointed," Mildred confessed after a pause. "I was relieved."

Ian turned to look at him fully, noting how Mildred avoided meeting his eyes as he continued.

"I wasn’t sure I could endure another battle like the one we faced here. Perhaps my relief showed in ways I didn’t realize, and that’s why I was reassigned here."

His tone carried the weight of a confession, as though seeking absolution. Only then did Ian realize it wasn’t just frustration about being left behind; it was a shame for feeling relieved. Mildred’s gaunter appearance perhaps spoke of the burden of that shame.

Read latest chapters at freёweɓnovel.com Only.

Watching the knight, Ian finally broke the silence.

"Well, that’s understandable."

Mildred lifted his head, startled by the response.

"I don’t want to go through another battle like that, either. I’m doing it because I have to—not because I want to. People misunderstand, but that’s the truth."

Mildred looked taken aback, as though expecting Ian to rebuke him. Perhaps he even wanted Ian to. But Ian had no intention of doing so. Not everyone could so easily move on from or conquer the horrors of their past. To falter in the face of fear didn’t warrant condemnation.

"Someone has to hold the rear, Sir Mildred. Set aside unnecessary doubts and focus on your duties. If you still feel guilty..."

Ian tilted his head toward the soldiers nearing the top of the stairs.

"Pick out the best supplies and distribute them evenly. And share whatever frontline intel you’ve got."

Mildred blinked, and then the corners of his mouth curled into a faint smile.

"Understood, sir."

***

"The Great Warrior has returned!"

"New supplies...!"

"Don’t touch anything until it’s sorted! Everything will be distributed equally!"

At the shouts, the centurions rushed en masse to the rear of the formation, eager to divide the newly arrived supplies loaded on the carts. Unsurprisingly, none of them were willing to compromise when it came to arming their warriors.

As they bustled about, Miguel watched Ian step forward to the head of the procession and smiled.

"You’re earlier than I expected."

"It took me over an hour to catch up. Not sure that counts as early." Ian chuckled dryly.

True to his orders, the legion hadn’t halted its march. In fact, with the settlement drawing nearer, their pace had quickened.

"You said he was an old comrade. I thought you’d take longer, catching up with him even after collecting the supplies."

Recalling his conversation with Mildred, Ian allowed himself a smirk.

"We covered everything that needed to be said."

"Good to hear... So, did you manage to get anything useful? The armory seemed pretty empty."

"Not completely barren."

Of course, there wasn’t much to find, not even by the loosest stretch of optimism. Just like the fortress before it, Bellium’s armory contained only a few pieces of equipment forged from Imperial steel—all likely sent to the front lines. Still, Ian secured every last one.

As he glanced toward the rear of the formation where the centurions were squabbling, Lucia spoke up.

"Have you heard anything from the front lines?"

Ian nodded, meeting her gaze. "Yeah. Seems your prediction was spot on."

"...! Really?"

"Yeah. A group of spellcasters passed through Travelga recently, heading east. They had soldiers with them."

Lucia’s eyes gleamed. "Red mages. His Highness must have succeeded in summoning the Red Tower."

"Most likely."

No doubt it had come at a cost, though it wasn’t a matter Ian needed to concern himself with.

Lucia, nodding, continued, "Some of them must have gone to Karlingion as well. We don’t have a single mage on our side."

Unlike Lucia, Miguel remained silent, his gaze fixed on Ian. The implication was clear: there were, in fact, mages among them, though not officially. Catching Miguel’s look, Ian shot him a brief glare before Lucia continued.

"According to the records, the chaos during the first erosion was due to the lack of an established frontline. Once we rebuilt the fortresses and dealt with the remnants, we managed to hold on. Though, of course, some areas turned into permanent parts of the demonic realm."

Turning her head, she glanced back at the warriors following behind. "His Highness likely didn’t expect a force of this size to join him. He was probably planning for half this number at most when allocating his forces. With our arrival, Karlingion will likely become the strongest fortress in the North."

"... Let’s hope it’s strong enough to repel the invasion," Ian muttered indifferently.

Lucia, looking back at him, lowered her voice. "So, you still think it won’t be enough?"

"History is just that—history," Ian replied, meeting her gaze. "There’s no guarantee this erosion will play out like the last."

Caught off guard, Lucia blinked, momentarily lost for words. Meanwhile, Miguel let out a heavy sigh.

"Damn it... Your instincts are never wrong when it comes to these things."

"Then, do you believe the fortress will fall, Agent of the Saint?" Kanto, who had been silently listening with furrowed brows, finally spoke up.

Ian simply shrugged, offering no answer.

However his thoughts were already racing, memories of the game flashing through his mind. Back then, the northern front had completely collapsed. True, the undead horde had inflicted devastating losses, and circumstances had been far worse than they were now.

Even so, it might not have made a difference. Ian didn’t know exactly what had unfolded at the front lines when the erosion began—his experience had started only after the chaos was already well underway.

They must have thought they were prepared back then, too, yet it all went to hell.

This time, he wouldn’t leave anything to chance.

Suddenly, the area was bathed in light as the dark clouds overhead flashed crimson.

Rumble—.

Yet neither Ian nor anyone else flinched.

"Damn it. Again with this racket," Miguel muttered, grimacing as he clapped his hands over his ears. Even the most skittish among them had grown accustomed to the Black Wall’s periodic tremors.

Right on schedule—four days again. d expected

Ian nodded quietly. While the tremors had been more frequent than he’d expected, that the intervals hadn’t shortened wasn’t that of a bad sign—it meant the erosion hadn’t started yet.

With the tremors marking the end of their conversation, the group pressed onward in silence.

"Finally... damn it," Miguel muttered under his breath as dawn’s dim light spread. Beyond the winding road ahead, a village came into view, its perimeter marked by wooden palisades instead of stone walls.

It was a barbarian settlement.