I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 648

Ian’s mouth twisted on its own. He’d heard something similar before, but hearing it from Thesaya, of all people, was unexpected.

"Hmm?" Nasser let out a hum. Stroking his chin, he murmured, "Was that truly the real purpose of this entire journey? It is a series of surprises. Come to think of it, everything fits perfectly."

"Fits perfectly, my ass." Ian cut him off with a dry laugh, turning to glare at him. "I have absolutely no desire to possess the continent, so don't get any useless ideas."

"And why is that, my lord?" Nasser asked again.

Kneeling on one knee as if to meet Ian’s eye level, he looked at Ian with shining light brown eyes. "I hadn't even thought of it until now, but now I don’t understand how I didn’t see it. My lord, you already have the full support of the Southern fairy families and the beastfolk—along with the kingdom destined to become the strongest power on the frontier, and the North, which is practically the Empire’s greatest vassal."

Speaking in a single breath, Nasser curled up the corners of his mouth.

"I heard you accepted the Sacred Blood. So now, strictly speaking, you are not only of the White Mage's bloodline, but a bearer of Imperial blood as well. And you are divinely favored, a chosen Agent of the mighty Platinum Dragon. Your qualifications are more than sufficient."

The more heated Nasser grew, the more Ian’s expression soured.

Even so, Nasser pressed on. "At this rate, the Empire will no longer be able to bind the continent as one. It will be divided into two, or perhaps more, continuing endless strife. Perhaps only you, my lord, can put an end to all that chaos."

Slow applause followed almost simultaneously.

Clapping her hands a few times, Thesaya picked up the cup in front of her and smiled. "Indeed. Quick on the uptake. Half-Ear. Worthy of a Round Table henchman candidate. That was an excellent speech."

"It is a compliment that doesn't please me at all, but... thank you. Elder."

Typical fairy and fanatic.

Looking at Nasser’s smile, Ian picked up his cup again. "I think I've heard enough nonsense."

"My lord!"

"If you don’t want to lose the other half of that ear, drop it. Nasser."

As Nasser furrowed his brow as if he couldn't understand, Thesaya looked back at Ian. "You really have no intention, Ian?"

"None."

"Everyone except you seems convinced, though."

Ian’s gaze shifted past her. Lucia’s eyes shimmered strangely. Even Mev was the same. Both looked as if they had realized a new fact.

As one of Ian's eyes twitched, Lucia said, "I know well that you had no such intention, but it sounds convincing, Sir Ian."

"We’re not urging rebellion," Mev added quietly.

She had already put the leftover bread down on the table.

"But if it's you, I think you could become the guardian of civilization who calms the chaos of the continent."

"And countless people would die in the process," Ian said with a sigh, bringing the cup to his lips.

As Mev paused, he added after drinking a few sips, "Incomparable to when I help or mediate for one side. Perhaps everyone here might end up dead or injured."

As he looked around at his companions, blurred scenes flashed across his mind—short, fragmented visions, each one steeped in tragedy. No matter how he thought about it, fighting over the continent’s throne felt like the fastest way to turn that prophecy into reality. Choosing that path meant making both the Empire and the Dark Prince his enemies.

"And most of all, I don’t want to be Emperor."

Being called a hero or a demigod was no different. Those were something he wanted no part of.

Most of what I have, from the very beginning, is just whatever the status window created for me.

Superhuman strength and stamina, magic, chaos, and even the resolve that never wavered in the face of hardship were, in the end, nothing more than a product of a high Mental Fortitude stat. At his core, he was just a fragile, painfully ordinary human.

What he wanted was a cramped but cozy room, a quiet, dull civilian life. Though now, that dream felt more distant than any battlefield.

"The Imperial throne isn’t quite as trivial as you make it sound..." Nasser let out a long sigh and rose from his kneeling posture. "But if that is your decision, my lord, then so be it. Hearing you say so only makes me think all the more that you’re perfectly suited to be emperor, but... very well."

This bastard...

Ian’s brow finally crumpled, but Nasser only shrugged, perfectly calm. "You genuinely worry for everyone who follows you, my lord—not just us. You’re not trying to sacrifice anyone for ambition."

"Don’t get it twisted. I’m using all of you for my own ends. It’s just that my goal isn’t the Imperial throne," Ian spat out firmly and gulped down the remaining alcohol in his cup.

Unlike Thesaya, who smacked her lips as if she couldn't understand, a smile spread across Mev's face as she looked at him.

"You still can’t stand being seen as noble. But that doesn’t change who you are, Ian."

"Don't you start too, Sir." Putting down the empty cup, Ian immediately picked up the bottle next to it. "Let’s end this nonsense here. We already have more than enough problems to deal with."

"Like a way for the Great One to receive forgiveness from the Heavens?" said Thesaya.

Ian paused mid-pour and looked back at her.

She lifted her shoulders casually. "Isn’t that the only way? That way, if the worst happens, it can step in to help us."

"It won't be easy. The fact that the Heavens do not view it favorably is already openly known, even in the Great Church," said Nasser.

Crossing his arms again, he lowered his voice. "That is also why many doubt the Platinum Dragon's true intentions. Besides, Sir Ian already receives the favor of the Heavens."

Looking back at Ian setting down the bottle, he smiled. "I don't think the Goddesses would miss the opportunity to separate you from it, my lord."

"Since it defeated the Heaven Defier with Sir Ian, wouldn't it have paid for its sins sufficiently?" said Lucia, sipping her drink.

Receiving the group’s gazes, she shrugged. "The world may not know, but the Heavens do. If we tell them it prevented the Heaven Defier’s resurrection, they’ll answer."

"I won’t stop you from trying through prayer," Ian muttered at last, lifting his glass again, "but don’t expect its help."

"The Platinum Dragon has fallen into a very long, very deep sleep," Mev finished for him as he drank.

Thesaya, who had paused, soon nodded. "Fair enough. If it fought the Heaven Defier, it wouldn’t have come out unscathed."

"It even destroyed the Black Wall before that. We weren’t thinking straight... and we were selfish," Lucia added, glancing back at Ian. "After everything it’s already done for us, more than we could ever repay, we were still thinking of leaning on it again."

It was a very priestess-like thing to say. Ian set down his cup without offering much of an answer. The topic was bound to come up again and again, but it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to discuss.

"Is it badly hurt?" Lucia’s question drew a thin, bitter smile from Ian.

Sharp as always.

After all the years they’d spent together, she’d naturally learned to read even the slightest twitch of his expression.

"Even so, nothing changes," said Nasser.

As Lucia and Thesaya turned toward him, he went on, "As long as we watch what we say, no one else will know the truth. They’ll assume it’s simply hiding to avoid divine punishment, ready to appear on your behalf at any moment."

A smile tugged at his lips as he looked back at Ian. "Even if it’s no longer called the Saint of the Order... wouldn’t that alone count as having received help already?"

"You do know how to say the right things sometimes," Ian muttered quietly, set down his cup, and stood up.

As Mev and Lucia looked at him, he tilted his head to the side. "The paladins are leaving."

The others couldn’t hear it yet, but Ian could make out the faint sound of several horses. He had been keeping an ear out for it, thinking the time was about right.

Thesaya narrowed her eyes. "You’re right. I hear it too."

"I need to take a bath first. Let's finish the rest of the talk after that."

At Ian's added words, Mev took a sip of alcohol and stood up.

"I should wash up too."

"I’ll guide you." Lucia jumped up after them, glancing between the two. "By the way, the bathroom—"

"Separate, obviously," Ian snorted, turning away and ignoring Thesaya’s look.

"And give Moro some meat as well," he added.

"Yes. I'll escort the two of you first."

As Mev turned with a low cough, Lucia followed, grinning as she trailed them out the door.

Watching the three disappear, Thesaya looked back at Nasser. "It seems the fun of tonight isn't over yet."

Lifting her cup, her eyes curved with mischief.

"Indeed." Nasser chuckled and settled into an empty seat.

Winking, Thesaya brought the cup to her lips. The fading sound of hooves had already slipped beyond even her hearing.

***

"Lu Entre... this craftsmanship is remarkable."

"Makes me want to chuck it straight into an underground tomb. If our ancestors saw what happened to these treasures, they’d break their coffins open and climb out."

The dwarves swarmed around the relic armor pieces, chattering nonstop as they inspected the scorched, melted, half-destroyed artifacts.

"Even in this state, it’s beautiful. It must’ve been blinding when it was whole."

"How can the patterns still be so uniform? Truly, we’re still far behind ancient technology. It wounds my pride."

They had completely forgotten they were standing in a temple. Awe, sorrow, reverence, and frustration all crossed the dwarves’ faces as they studied the broken relics.

"...So," Ian finally said, arms crossed as he looked down at them. If he left them any longer, they would absolutely keep rambling for hours. "Can you fix it or not?"

"Of course not, Great Warrior." A dwarf artisan with a red nose answered immediately. Far from hesitating, his tone was as if asking why he was asking such an obvious question.

"The finest artisans of our ancestors probably crafted these. No matter how skilled we are, there’s no way we could recreate their work."

"There’s no way to know what the original decorations looked like, or what these melted spell circuits used to do. And even if we knew, we couldn’t carve them exactly as they were."

The other dwarves chimed in right after, just as noisy as before.

"We could remove the decorations and redo the fastening rings, maybe. Hammer out some of the dents too."

"These were masterpieces beyond comparison. You should’ve taken better care of them."

Even a few insults slipped in. Ian couldn’t help but let out a short, helpless laugh. This was a thousand times better than watching them bow and tremble.

"Good. That’s exactly the level of repair I wanted."

"Oh my, you say things that scratch our pride without batting an eye."

"How did you even manage to wreck treasures like these? What, did you beat up another dragon?"

Ian gave a halfhearted shrug. "Something like that. Anyway, do it. As for payment, melt those gold decorations and sort it out yourselves."

"Heavens forbid. We can’t do that to the Great Warrior."

"We’ll gather them properly and cast them into gold bars. Looks like we’ll get more than one out of this."

If you insist.

Ian sighed inwardly and glanced over at Lucia, who was fighting a smile.

"It will take a few days, will that be alright?"

"Take longer if you need to. I’m leaving tomorrow anyway. Once you’re done playing with them, send them to the snowfields." Ian answered the artisan's question readily.

He then tilted his head toward the hallway where the door was located. "Now dismissed. Do your chatting outside. Stop cluttering up the temple."

"Understood, Great Warrior."

"We’re glad you returned safely! Until next time!"

The dwarves turned away at once, departing with noisy farewells. It was obvious they were more captivated by the relics he brought than by Ian himself. Lucia gave him a brief nod before following them out.

What is this, Snow White and the dwarves? Except there are way more than seven.

Watching them disappear down the hallway, Ian finally turned away.

He stood in the temple's central hall, surrounded by tiered railings. At its center rested a massive brazier—large enough to be called a furnace. A pillar of orange sacred fire rose from it like a beacon, filling the entire temple with warmth: the very source of the blessing spread across the grounds.

Well, at least I don’t have to worry about the flame dying out like in a game.

With the Black Wall collapsed and war approaching, the influence of the Blazing Goddess would grow even larger. Of course, the temple would also receive the royal family's call. That was something he couldn’t afford to leave out of today’s conversation.

Turning around, Ian looked up. A blonde woman was standing beyond the railing on the upper floor. It was the Saintess of the Brazier, who had come out to watch from a while ago.

I’ve felt this before, but she’s surprisingly impatient.

Ian started toward the stairs leading to the upper floor.