I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 403

The Mantra circuits glowed brighter for a brief moment, only to flicker and dim again, teetering on the brink of failure.

Rumble, rumble—

Another tremor rippled through the cavern shortly afterward, shaking the ground. But this time, no one made a sound. Like Lucia, everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on Ian.

Swoosh.

He stood with his left hand raised high, golden light pooling in his palm once again.

"Is he supplying power to the circuits?"

Someone muttered under their breath, and Lucia gave a nod. "Probably. The Great Platinum Dragon inscribed Mantra circuits onto Sir Ian's left hand."

"I see. So that's how it is."

"As expected. A miracle only possible for a Dragon's Agent."

A few dwarves nodded and murmured their agreement. But their voices weren’t filled with awe alone.

"Even so, stabilizing the circuits of this entire cavern would require an immense amount of magic." A sigh escaped one of them, expressing their worry.

Swoosh.

Then again, golden waves of light radiated from Ian's hand, spreading across the cavern. The cavern brightened but dimmed again soon after.

Lucia bit her lower lip as she caught the sight of Ian’s face in that fleeting light. "As I thought."

Ian's complexion was noticeably pale. Lucia knew that was a sign of rapid magic depletion. He was pouring his magic into the Mantra circuits. Of course, she was the only one who really understood what was happening.

"Is he sacrificing his life?"

"To save us. He’s offering his very life?"

The others misunderstood Ian's pale complexion, interpreting it as an act of self-sacrifice.

However, Lucia didn’t bother correcting them. It wasn't just because she wanted to keep Ian's identity as a mage hidden; it was also because their speculation wasn't entirely wrong. She knew that Ian would have willingly sacrificed his life force if necessary.

Swoosh!

Another wave of golden light surged from Ian's hand. It was the faintest glow yet.

"Is it, Is it done?" said one of the dwarves.

The Mantra circuits finally stabilized. Though dimmer than usual, their glow no longer flickered precariously.

"It's done. The power is holding steady," Corvo muttered softly.

As if to confirm his words, the tremors and ominous cracks ceased entirely.

"Phew." Ian dropped his arm limply to his side. Lucia was the only one to see his lips silently shaping a familiar curse.

As he staggered, Lucia's eyes widened in alarm, and she immediately sprinted down the stairs. Fortunately, Ian regained his balance and began climbing the steps again, albeit with unsteady movements.

"T-This isn't the time to just stand around!"

"What are you doing? We should all go down. Let's go down and help him!"

The others, realizing the situation, hurriedly started down the stairs. By the time they reached the bottom, Lucia was already ascending to the middle level. "Sir Ian! Are you alright?"

"Not at all," Ian replied weakly, waving a hand as if to tell her to stop. Lucia stopped immediately, and the defenders spread out behind her.

Ian's ashen face and bloodshot eyes revealed his condition as he approached them. Lucia recognized it immediately—it was a clear sign of magic depletion. He had poured every last ounce of his magic into the Mantra circuits.

He may have even drawn out chaotic energy.

As the thought crossed her mind, the dwarves began kneeling one by one.

"Oh, Great Warrior."

"Savior of Drag Velga."

Following the reverent murmurs, humans and orcs lowered their heads. Just as the residents started to each offer their reverence, Ian, with a slight frown appearing on his face, interrupted, "That's enough."

As a few of them froze awkwardly mid-bow, he flicked his right arm, which had been hanging loosely at his side, forward. "Here. Take this."

One of the dwarves, instinctively caught the object flying toward him—it was Corvo.

"T-This is..." Blinking in surprise, he looked down at the item in his hands. ƒreewebɳovel.com

It was a pendant about the size of his palm, strung on a gold chain. But instead of a gemstone, its center held a dried, blood-stained dagger embedded deep within. The only traces of the original dark green gemstone were its shattered fragment.

"It's the vessel that contained Carmiel's soul. Do whatever you want with it." Ian's words widened the eyes of Corvo and the other residents.

The dwarves, in particular, looked at him with a gaze that flickered with emotion. They recognized the dagger—he had shown it earlier when he delivered the news of their comrades' deaths. Not a single dwarf failed to realize what it meant: Ian had avenged them.

In stark contrast to their reactions, Ian's expression remained indifferent as he continued, "Take care of the cleanup yourselves. I need to get some rest."

With that, he collapsed forward as if all strength had left him. Lucia darted forward reflexively, catching him in her arms.

"Phew." She let out a sigh of relief as she held him steady.

At that moment, the dwarves exchanged glances and then stepped forward together. Their hands gently tapped Ian's legs and shoulders in reverence, making Lucia frown and glance back at them. "He's just unconscious. He's not dead."

"We know. We just wish to offer him the greatest honor we can." Corvo, wearing the golden necklace around his neck, spoke, and the other dwarves nodded in agreement.

"If you insist," Lucia finally replied, carefully tilting Ian toward them.

"Hold him steady. Taller ones, move to the back," said Corvo.

The dwarves, raising their hands over their heads, gently took hold of Ian and carefully laid him flat in their arms. The gathered residents naturally parted to create a path, and the dwarves, now holding Ian, turned and began walking down the cleared passage.

"Thank you—"

"O Great Superhuman."

The dwarves kneeled again, murmuring their gratitude. The humans and orcs followed suit, lowering themselves to one knee. Even the fairies reluctantly bent one knee, acknowledging the gesture.

Although Ian may never know, it was a sincere expression of gratitude.

Not that he'd care to know anyway, Lucia thought as she followed behind the dwarves.

Then, as if remembering something, she turned to the side. "Diana, go right now and inform His Excellency that I wish to meet him immediately."

"Now? Right away?" Diana, who had been half-kneeling awkwardly, lifted her head sharply.

Lucia shrugged. "Didn't you hear Sir Ian? We need to clean up this mess."

***

Ian slowly opened his eyes. The familiar low ceiling greeted him—it was the dwarf mansion where he had been staying.

—You've finally woken up.

Yog's weary whisper echoed in his mind.

—Now that it’s over, I tell you this. Resonating with the Mantra circuits... I never want to go through that again. It was nauseating and utterly revolting.

That was enough to snap Ian back to reality.

Yet somehow, you did your part, Ian thought, recalling the whisper that pointed out Carmiel's weakness.

He raised his upper body, sitting up. He was in the usual corner of the room where he slept. Only this time, a thick fur pelt was spread beneath him, and instead of armor, only his leather garments remained, with a much softer blanket draped over him.

Ian blinked, rubbing his temple. There was a faint headache, but overall, he didn't feel too bad. Considering how he had drained both his magical and chaos powers to their limits, it was surprising.

The reason, however, wasn't hard to figure out—He had leveled up. Not only that, but more than half of his experience points had already filled the next bar. Judging by the sheer amount, it seemed even greater than what he had gotten from slaying the colossal beast.

Well, I did kill a lot.

Besides, he had already been close to leveling up. Thanks to this, his health and magic had partially recovered more quickly than usual.

"By the way." Ian exhaled softly and lifted his head. "What are you doing over there?"

Across the room, a platinum-haired fairy, awkwardly standing with her back to him and facing the wall, flinched. "Well, uh..." While Diana stammered, Yog's voice echoed in Ian's mind.

—She's your attendant. Said she'd look after you. Though, honestly, it seems more like an excuse to avoid annoying tasks. She's been just lying around, doing nothing.

The tone was almost snitch-like, prompting Ian to smirk faintly as he continued, "What, were you searching for some hidden cigarettes or something?"

"No! Of course not!" Diana spun around in alarm, then quickly averted his gaze, muttering awkwardly. "Why would I? I was just... reflecting on how absurd I've been—"

"Disappointed, huh?"

"Misunderstanding—what?" Ian's abrupt interruption made her pause and look back at him.

He shrugged casually. "Because I'm not some massive, rugged, wild man," he said. "Nor do I resemble a lone beast roaming the Snowfield—"

"I deeply apologize for my past rudeness!" Diana bowed her head deeply. The tips of her ears, peeking through her hair, were burning bright red.

Ian chuckled quietly and rose to his feet, adding, "If you've realized that, then just act as you normally did."

"Normally... as in?" Diana cautiously lifted her head, asking hesitantly.

Ian stretched his stiff shoulders and continued. "Just act how you've always acted. No matter your tone or attitude, you're still my attendant, and that won't change."

"Attendant," Diana muttered the word under her breath, her expression smoothing out as she straightened her posture. "Well, if that's the case, then gladly."

Not even a hint of hesitation.

Ian snorted to himself before asking, "How long was I out?"

"Well, as soon as you... were brought in, I reset it." She gestured awkwardly toward the table on the other side of the room.

Ian glanced at the hourglass with its last few grains trickling down and nodded.

Less than five hours.

He hadn't been unconscious as long as he'd thought. Next to the hourglass was a glass bottle he hadn't seen before, its cork tightly sealed. A quick glance was enough for him to recognize the liquid inside—alcohol.

"And Lucy is handling the cleanup?" Ian asked as he causally grabbed the bottle.

Diana leaned lightly against the wall and nodded. "Nearly everyone's working on it. You gave the order, after all."

"I didn't mean for them to do it immediately," Ian muttered, taking a swig from the bottle.

I just meant that I wasn’t going to do it.

To his surprise, the alcohol, though the same type as the ones he had here, the stench was far milder. It seemed the dwarves had been hiding some of their better stock.

"And my clothes—you're the one who took them off?"

"What? Absolutely not!" Diana practically lept as she frantically shook her head. "The dwarves took all your gear and spoils. They said those items weren't worthy of use and insisted on making new ones for you."

"The dwarves? Not sure if I have time to wait for that." Ian frowned slightly. He had been satisfied with his current gear.

Diana shrugged. "Some of them have already locked themselves in the workshop. I doubt you could stop them even if you wanted to. Apparently, there was a full plate armor set among the spoils, and they're planning to melt it down and reforge it."

"Oh, really?"

Figures.

Ian sighed in resignation and took another swig from the bottle. Truthfully, he had expected this outcome ever since Lucia told them the story of him to the dwarves—and especially since the Wanderers had stormed into the city.

While the insistent stares, excessive flattery, and near-worship that followed were unbearable, the situation wasn't without its perks.

"And..." Diana hesitated for a moment before continuing. "His Excellency said he'd like to see you once you wake. Shall I call for him?"

"There's no need. He's busy enough as it is." Ian turned away, the bottle still in hand. "I'll go to him myself."

"Right now?"

"Why? Worried you'll be put to work cleaning up if I finish quickly?" Ian's pointed question made Diana quickly move toward the door.

"No, of course not."

It sure seems like it, though.

Ian let out a chuckle and took another drink before stepping outside.

From the sounds below, it seemed the city's cleanup was progressing level by level, top to bottom. The uppermost streets lay completely deserted, while chatter and noise echoed from below.

Well, they'll manage just fine without me.

Without bothering to inspect the city, Ian made his way forward. As he passed through the plaza, which bore scars from the battle, the entrance to the inner keep came into view. Unlike usual, only a single orc guard stood watch, holding a poleaxe.

Clack.

As Ian approached, the orc stepped aside and dropped to one knee with the utmost reverence.

Here we go again.

Ian clicked his tongue and stopped before the orc. "Stand up."

The orc immediately stood, though he kept his head respectfully bowed.

Ian added, "I have something to tell everyone."

"Your command."

"Tell them not to kneel whenever they see me. Spread the word."

"Understood, Great Warrior." The orc's tone was filled with respect.

Ian briefly considered telling him to drop the title but decided against it. No matter what, another ridiculous nickname would just take its place. Instead, he raised the bottle to his lips and continued walking.

He continued down the unusually quiet passageway and asked, "Surely Lucia isn't spreading more stories about me, is she?"

Diana, walking ahead of Ian, shrugged her shoulders. "I can’t say for sure, but probably not. She doesn't seem to mention you at all anymore."

Knew it. She knows me well enough, Ian thought, nodding in satisfaction.

As he did, Diana quickly moved ahead and opened the door to the office. Her efficient movements prevented Ian from having to stop.

"Oh, you've arrived!" The Count, seated behind a desk buried in books and papers, practically jumped to his feet as Ian entered.

Noticing the haggard face illuminated by the lamplight, Ian allowed a faint smile to tug at his lips. "It must be disappointing to lose an excuse to escape your work."

"It feels as if you've read my mind," the Count replied with a chuckle, stepping forward to meet Ian.

Ian wasted no time following up. "I'll take that as your expression of gratitude."

"By any chance, can you truly read minds?" The Count paused, his tone suddenly serious, his eyes locking on Ian's.

"Of course not. It's simply not the first time I've seen this happen." Ian faintly laughed as he approached the desk and continued, "Let's get to the point. I'm assuming you want to hear about the battle?"

"That was my initial intention, yes." The Count clasped his hands together and bowed politely. "But a more pressing matter has arisen since. It feels only right to address this first."

"Fair enough." Ian pulled out a chair and sat, swirling the bottle of alcohol in his hand as he leaned back. "I'm ready. Let's hear it."

The Count couldn't help but crack a brief smile before quickly suppressing it with a cough. Regaining his composure, he adopted a solemn expression, fixing his gaze on Ian as he spoke. "His Highness, the Crown Prince, wishes to meet with you, the Agent of the Saint."