I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 642

Martin, who had stiffened, quickly bowed his head and said, "I-I am not telling a lie, my lord!"

Another man sitting beside him quickly chimed in, "I even met him in person. He was handsome, spent money like water, and even the knight accompanying him called him Young Master. His way of speaking was completely different from ours!"

Ian already knew their words were true. His lip curled faintly—not because he doubted them, but because he realized that noble young master was diligently carrying out his self-assigned mission. Ridiculously dutiful, just as he had boasted.

"So, what exactly did you see and hear?" Ian asked after a moment.

He hadn’t intended it, but this was a chance to hear news of those who had left for the capital, including the Ark Caravan.

"They said the Dragon Slayer, the Superhuman of the North, has returned. They had traveled with him from the southern part of the continent and even witnessed him presiding over the Bastard King's coronation. They also said the heavens blessed Orendel."

Once they began, the survivors all started sharing the stories they’d heard.

"They said he returned with the Saintess of the Brazier too. Red hair, beautiful as a goddess, and kind-hearted—they said she was practically the incarnation of the Blazing Goddess!"

"The archdemon! I heard stories about the archdemon of the abyss! Even the Archipelago's fleet was annihilated, but the Superhuman of the North, the Saintess of the Brazier, and the Elder Fairy of the South joined forces to drive it out."

Voices of agreement spread from all around, claiming they had heard the same.

"They say the Superhuman is stronger than an orc, swifter than a fairy, and more ferocious than a beastfolk. Even sturdier than a dwarf."

"They say he wields a sword of light and a golden shield, breathes underwater, and flies through the sky. He even subdues monsters and uses them like limbs, so it would be more correct to call him a Demigod rather than a Superhuman."

"I heard he received the blessings of seven goddesses and the protection of the God of War. And now, he has disappeared after receiving the call of the great Platinum Dragon."

There were also plenty of stories mixed in that made Ian narrow his eyes.

Seeing his expression, several people hurried to add, "We-we know it's hard to believe! But the Young Master swore on the Blazing Goddess it was all true, and that he saw it clearly with his two eyes."

"I heard that too. He said he was a witness to all those mythical feats, and that if he were lying, he would be struck by divine punishment!"

Of course, Ian's expression only twisted further. Again, it wasn't because he didn't believe them. It was the opposite.

To think he'd blab this much.

Leaving Lucia's story aside, the parts related to him were heavily exaggerated. At this level, it wasn't a recounting of experiences; it was practically a testimony. Perhaps he was rehearsing to dominate the social circles.

"Are we... perhaps... deceived?" Martin, looking up at Ian, asked cautiously.

Everyone else fell silent, eyes fixed on Ian. Even Martin’s younger sister stared anxiously.

"Well." Ian smacked his lips, then said, "But at least the part about Orendel is true."

"R–Really? Thank goodness!"

Martin let out a long sigh of relief. Others also sighed, though it was unclear if it was out of relief or something else.

Some even stroked their chests. Ian added, "Is that all that Imperial noble blabbed about?"

"Well, the imperial caravan was guarded so tightly that we couldn’t get close," Martin said, bowing his head.

The man sitting next to him added. "If he hadn't stopped by the tavern and mingled with us, we wouldn't have had the chance to talk to the noble young master either. His group wasn't ordinary. Especially that huge monster...."

"Orc. It wasn't a monster, it was an orc. He was very kind." Martin's sister corrected him.

Soon, a few others chattered more about the appearance of the noble’s group and their memorable actions. Of course, it matched the appearance of those Ian knew perfectly. Their stories were just a verification process. The reason his eyes narrowed slightly again was different.

Anyway, aren't they taking the long way around?

No matter how he thought about it, going down toward Lu Sard in the middle seemed like a faster way to enter the Empire. Of course, based on the Imperial Capital, this way might be quicker, but he couldn't shake the thought that they might be deliberately taking a longer route to spread the news of Orendel more widely.

Simon, burning with a useless sense of duty, as well as Fael, the leader of the Ark Caravan, and Bor, a former barbarian, were more than capable of doing so.

"Um... my lords, are you from Orendel?" It was then that Martin's sister asked cautiously.

While Moro snorted, Ian looked up at Mev behind him instead of answering. It was also an act to appear as if he were seeking permission. Of course, Mev showed no reaction, but Ian looked back at the girl as if he had heard an answer.

"Instead of wondering about that, you'd better worry about yourselves. Leaving the city without a plan like this."

"You are right, my lord." Martin, covering his sister's mouth with his hand, smacked his lips briefly. "Actually, we weren't completely without a plan. We gathered our money and hired three mercenaries. But...."

"They must have run off halfway." Ian finished the sentence.

Martin sighed deeply. "As soon as they heard the wolves howling, they whispered among themselves and ran away. We should’ve realized it earlier... When they returned alive from outside the city so many times, we thought it was because they were skilled."

Ian let out a low snort. It wasn't a surprising story. It was the perfect environment for mercenaries to scam people for a living. In the first place, those who faithfully completed requests were much rarer.

As Mev clicked her tongue, Ian said, "The path behind you is safer than ahead, but traveling alone like this is suicide. One more pack of monsters and you’ll be wiped out."

He expected them to agree—but instead they only lowered their heads, sighing. No words of return came out.

Soon, Martin wiped his face with his palm and said, "Even if we go back to Melan, it won't be much different. We'll just die a little slower. We are those who have decided not to do that."

"So you intend to get to Orendel no matter what." Ian shook his head gently.

Mev's low hum followed from behind. It must be because the other immigrants were nodding in agreement with Martin.

"Um, my lord...." Martin's sister said again then. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Receiving Ian's gaze, she hesitated before adding, "If you really came from Orendel... could you help us reach the new sacred land?"

Before she could finish, Martin, eyes wide, covered her mouth with his hand again. "Marie! How dare you make such a presumptuous request to our savior!"

It must be because he saw Ian's brow furrow slightly. Looking back at Ian, Martin bowed his head.

"P-Please forgive her! She is foolish and doesn't know how insolent her words are!"

"It's fine. It was a request I couldn't accept anyway," Ian said calmly.

He was in just as much of a hurry as they were. If he took them to Orendel, it would be a month before he could reach the North. He couldn’t waste that much time with war looming.

"Yes. You have already saved us; we cannot ask for more," Martin replied with no sign of disappointment.

A few were humming in regret, but Martin paid them no mind and added, "It seems proper for us to think of a way to repay your kindness instead. It's not much, but we would like to gather all the money we have and offer it to you...."

No one raised any objections. Not only because they agreed with Martin but also because if Mev and Ian demanded it, they would have no choice but to give it up.

"If you have any alcohol, give me that. And food."

At Ian's words, Martin blinked in slight confusion. Looking down at him for a moment, Ian added, "If you don't have any, forget it."

"N-No! Of course we have some!" Martin answered quickly, glancing to the side.

A white-haired elder caught his look and turned toward the wagons behind them. "What are you doing? Hurry and bring the items for the lords!"

Only then did a few people rush toward the wagons. As the area around the wagons became busy, a faint smile formed on Ian's lips. Mev’s soft sigh had brushed past his ear again; she was clearly troubled at the thought of leaving these people behind.

She wasn’t saying anything only because she knew it wasn’t a situation where they could simply turn back.

"If you head that way, you’ll find the wolf leader’s corpse." Ian had already prepared a suitable alternative for them.

At his words, Martin blinked.

Jerking his head toward Moro, Ian added, "Take it with you. Make sure it smells. It's a big one, so you'll have to throw away some useless items."

Monsters on the frontier weren’t mindless. The wolf leader had fallen helplessly to Ian, but it was still strong enough to intimidate nearly any monster in the region. With its scent on the wagon, most creatures wouldn’t dare approach.

"Y–Yes, my lord!" Martin nodded so hard it looked like his head might fall off.

The other immigrants nearby also looked at each other with shining eyes. Instead of answering, Ian looked back at Mev. Through the narrow slit of her visor, her eyes curved faintly.

Ian smiled slightly in return before he looked ahead again. People were running from the wagons.

Ian's smile deepened a little more. "I didn't mean for you to bring everything."

Some carried wooden casks on their backs; others dragged enormous leather bundles along the ground. They were clearly bringing every drop of alcohol and food. If they gave all that away, they would starve, but they probably thought it was better to bring it first since it would be taken anyway.

So they really have been exploited. No wonder they were willing to risk death to reach Orendel.

Ian calmly examined the things the immigrants had brought before him. They bowed their heads slightly, unable to even make eye contact with him. It was understandable, considering they’d watched him butcher wolves the size of bison while soaked in blood.

"This will do." Ian picked up a large leather canteen filled to the brim and a small package of food.

As the residents glanced at him with somewhat bewildered eyes, Ian jerked his chin. "Take the rest back. And get up, all of you."

"Yes, yes! My lord!"

Even while widening their eyes in genuine surprise, the bowing residents hurriedly picked up their things and went back. They couldn't hide the relief spreading across their faces.

While those kneeling stood up awkwardly, Ian turned without sparing a glance and hung the canteen and package on the front of Moro's saddle.

Snort...

Receiving his gaze, Mev shook the reins lightly. Moro snorted briefly, turned its head toward the darkness, and moved.

Just as Ian was about to fall in step beside them, Martin's urgent voice came from behind. "S-Savior!"

Ian stopped and looked back

Martin, swallowing hard, looked at him and said, "May we... may we know your name, my lord?"

"Never leave the main road. If you're lucky, you might encounter patrols near old Agel Lan," Ian replied with something entirely different.

A faint curl lifted one side of his mouth as he added, "Tell them when you meet them. The Red Knight ordered them to prepare thoroughly to receive immigrants. If possible, even beyond the old border."

"R-Red!"

Only then did Martin's eyes widen. The same was true of the others standing up nearby. Their gazes finally returned to the back of the knight moving away beyond the boundary of the light.

"Then... that person is the?"

Ian said nothing more. He simply turned away and quickened his steps toward Moro, never once looking back at the stunned faces behind him.

Clank...

Mev raised her visor only after it had become completely dark around them. Returning her greatsword to its sheath, she looked back.

"Bring the torches and follow me! It was somewhere over there!"

Far behind them, torchlight bobbed in the dark as the immigrants began searching for the wolf leader’s corpse.

Mev watched the wavering lights a moment, then asked, "Will they be able to reach Orendel safely?"

"If they don’t do anything stupid, probably," Ian answered, picking up the leather canteen and opening the stopper.

Nodding, Mev turned her gaze forward again. "I hope the Radiant Goddess's protection is with them."

Her gaze turned to Ian, who was drinking alcohol. "That way, they'll realize that the one who saved them wasn't the Red Knight of the Frontier, but the Superhuman of the North... no, the Demigod."

At this rate, I'll really become the Demigod of the North.

If the townsfolk of Orendel heard Mev's name, they would surely ask the immigrants all sorts of questions. Then they would find out that she was moving separately and was accompanied by a black-haired man, not a brown-skinned one.

Of course, it didn't matter. By then, Ian would already be in the North.

"Let's hope there are no more bothersome things like this," said Ian.

Handing her the canteen, Ian hopped onto the front of the saddle. He tossed the package of preserved food into his pocket dimension.

Mev, taking a sip of the bitter, strong liquor, smiled. "If there are people in danger, I hope we reach them before it’s too late."

"My hope was that we wouldn’t run into anyone at all until we reached the shortcut," Ian murmured as he took back the canteen she handed him.

Smiling brightly, Mev adjusted her grip on the saddle with both hands—almost as if embracing his waist.

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

The demonic warhorse, carrying the Demigod of the North and the Red Knight of the Frontier, ran through the darkness.

Their journey continued without pause.

By the time their breaths began to mist in the air, they had already passed two more groups of immigrants.