I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 650

Cherwyn’s lifted eyes trembled faintly. A flicker of something unreadable passed through her crimson gaze.

"It is merely a matter of following doctrine and law, so it is hardly a betrayal of the Empire or the Great Church," said Ian, tilting his head slightly to the side. “If it were ignorance, that would be different. But if they act while knowing the truth, then one day they’ll have to answer for those sins.”

It was merely a rough quotation of something he had heard in the past, but that detail was unimportant.

“You’re right. This is a civil war, not a holy one.”

Those were the words she had wanted to hear. Cherwyn exhaled the breath she’d been holding and wrapped her fingers around her cup.

"Knowing innocent survivors may be slaughtered, we cannot blindly obey an Imperial decree. Especially since one of the witnesses is the Vice High Priestess."

Her voice steadied, as though her resolve were firming. She raised the cup to her lips.

Ian watched her quietly, then drank as well.

So she didn’t just respect Hyked... it went deeper than that.

He pondered the contents of the quest he had rejected. He knew from experience that quests did not always lead to positive outcomes.

The quest just now seemed like one of those traps. Just like with Archeas, the reward was suspiciously appealing.

Having foreseen a tragic future, he could not make such a major decision based solely on the reward. If Cherwyn were to be tainted by madness as a result, the impact on the temple and Lucia would be unpredictable.

It feels like walking through a minefield.

Maybe it was because the game was nearing its end. As Ian swallowed another mouthful of the harsh liquor, Cherwyn set down her cup.

“May I ask one more question, Agent of the Saint?”

“Go ahead.”

“Then... do you also have the intention of siding with my brother?”

"Well...." Ian looked at her again. "If that is the way to end all this chaos with the least amount of damage."

Cherwyn’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him.

"Wouldn't that cause even greater chaos? If the Great Church and the royal family were to collapse...."

"The fall of the Great Church won’t erase people’s faith. A new focal point will emerge, just as a new sacred land was created in the frontier. The same applies to the royal family, of course."

Ian looked at Cherwyn for a moment and added, "Besides, Prince Hyked will not sit on the throne even if he wins the civil war. Once he ensures the Empire accepts the survivors from the Black Lands, he’ll gladly step back. And after that, most likely...”

Recalling the white-haired prince for a moment, Ian wore a faint, bitter smile. "He will return to the Black Lands. There are still archdemons remaining, not to mention the corrupted ones, demons, and swarms of monsters. His Highness will gladly face them to protect the Empire. Of course, in doing so, he will eventually be consumed by inevitable madness...."

Glancing at Cherwyn, whose eyes had widened, Ian picked up his cup and concluded, “When that time comes, it won’t be too late to judge him.”

"Do you truly believe he will do that?" Cherwyn asked.

The bitter smile on Ian's lips deepened slightly. “I hope so. But if he ever tries to seize the throne, then I’ll stop him myself. Of course, I will need your help as well.”

Cherwyn’s lips slowly curled up. “Agent of the Saint, you are truly a noble person. I dared not imagine you held such thoughts.”

However, her eyes twisted the opposite way, as though she were holding back tears behind that fragile smile.

"It is merely a hypothesis. If I end up joining hands with the royal family, I’ll fight His Highness Hyked with everything I have." Ian replied.

Cherwyn smiled as if that didn't matter and said, "As we have until now, the Temple of the Brazier will continue to support the Agent of the Saint. Even if that goes against the will of the Great Church."

Her tone was more polite and respectful than before. Ian nodded without hesitation. It was, after all, the conclusion he had been hoping for.

“But in my eyes, the title Agent no longer suits you.”

Ian’s smile stiffened slightly at her added remark.

Cherwyn met his gaze, smiling more softly as she said, “You lack nothing to be called a Saint yourself. I finally understand why the Heavens favor you so deeply.”

“I think it’s time I make my leave.” Shaking his head, Ian rose from his seat, not forgetting to reach for the liquor bottle.

However, Cherwyn grabbed the bottle before he could.

“There is still something I wish to tell you. It’s about Archduke Olaf,” said Cherwyn.

"I have already heard the gist of it." Smacking his lips, Ian sat back down in the chair.

He placed his cup in front of the bottle Cherwyn held out and added, “He’s troubled because of me, or so I heard.”

"The Archduke is wary of you far more than you realize, Agent of the Saint."

Having filled his cup, Cherwyn poured another for herself before continuing, "Your influence in the North actually rose after you went missing beyond the Black Wall. Now that you have returned alive, it is growing uncontrollably vast."

“You seem to be taking the situation just as seriously as he is.”

Cherwyn let out a low chuckle. "Do you truly think so? Even when the faith of so many who believed you were alive has been rewarded like this? Some among the barbarians believed that you had become a god. That you were standing shoulder to shoulder with Karha."

Ian frowned at that, responding a beat late. "Now they should know for certain that is not the case."

“I wouldn’t be so sure. To them, it must feel like you resurrected after overcoming death. And the ones whose faith was rewarded will hardly think differently.”

Ian’s expression tightened further, while Cherwyn, in contrast, raised her cup with a relaxed smile.

"And most Northerners fell into one of those two categories. Not just the barbarians, but almost everyone in the North."

She tipped her cup toward Ian before taking a sip. Ian let out a low sigh and picked up his cup as well. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

They believed what they wanted and rewarded themselves however they pleased.

He muttered these words inwardly, knowing that saying them aloud would change nothing.

Indeed, the barbarians believed he was using divine power even when he cast magic right before their eyes. Since they had even made absurd myths about his birth, it wouldn't be strange if they were writing even grander legends now.

“Which is why the Archduke will want you out of the north. By any means necessary.” Cherwyn added as she set down her cup.

Ian let out a low snort. “I already discussed that with the others last night. No matter what provocation he tries, I won’t rise to it. So you needn’t worry.”

“Of course. And I intend to make sure he doesn’t attempt anything foolish. But that isn’t what I meant to tell you.”

"Then what is it?"

"I wanted to say that if you wished, you could take the North at any time. And very easily, at that."

Ian’s lip twitched on its own.

Yesterday, it was the entire continent, and today, it’s the North. Why is everyone so desperate to shove a crown onto my head?

No quest had appeared yet, but this felt suspiciously like one of those old game events that triggered once your fame hit a certain threshold. Of course, there was always the chance each class had its own set of exclusive quests as well.

"There is no doubt about your qualifications, Agent of the Saint. It would be a waste of breath for me to explain it further. But that is not the only reason I say this."

Cherwyn's voice took on a faint, almost feverish warmth.

"That may be the way to shed the least amount of blood. Archduke Olaf is becoming increasingly obsessed with his own safety. Unnecessarily large amounts of blood were shed even in the process of dealing with the aftermath of the erosion."

Clutching her cup, she leaned forward. “There were far gentler solutions. But he threw his soldiers’ lives away just to elevate his standing and tarnish the barbarian’s reputation.”

A faint orange light shimmered in her eyes as she gazed at Ian.

"If you ruled the North, Agent of the Saint, such things would not happen again. Furthermore, the North could become truly one for the first time."

Ian held her gaze for a moment before he finally answered, “It sounds more like you want me to take the North because it would weaken the Empire’s power.”

And the opposing side would gain a better chance of winning.

Cherwyn didn’t say a word. She only let her lips curl, just slightly. That alone was her answer.

Must be the royal blood in her veins.

Ian let out a hollow laugh and took another sip to wet his throat. In truth, none of this surprised him. Lu Entre was the goddess of passion and madness, after all. Even Lucia, the next Saintess, was the sort who’d gladly settle things with her fists first.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse.” Ian set his cup down.

As Cherwyn’s eyes twitched, he said, “As you’ve seen for yourself, I can’t even govern the barbarians properly. If I were to rule the North, it would become a lawless zone in an instant."

These were not empty words. If the barbarians had not been accustomed to self-sufficiency, and if the Temple of the Brazier and the Hexagonal Alliance had not supported them, Hope City would have collapsed long ago.

And beyond all of that, he had absolutely no desire to become anything resembling a king. The moment he claimed such a title, the Empire would brand him a traitor.

“Well, I disagree on that, but if that is your will, Agent of the Saint, I understand. It is not something I can force upon you.” Cherwyn murmured, leaning back in her chair with a small shake of her head.

"You know well. Let us conclude this matter here," Ian answered immediately, rising with the bottle in hand. He did not forget to pick up the cork next to it. This time, Cherwyn did not stop him.

"Since I am leaving tomorrow, I’ll need to borrow some supplies needed to travel to the wastelands in the snowfields."

“Of course. Please tell the Vice High Priestess. She will take care of the preparations," Cherwyn answered readily.

Ian nodded, sealed the bottle, and turned to leave.

"However, Agent of the Saint."

Cherwyn’s voice rang out from behind him. When Ian paused and looked back, Cherwyn took a sip of her drink and met his gaze.

"Sometimes, things happen inevitably, even if we do not wish for them. We usually call that—"

"Fate. Yes. I know."

Cutting her off, Ian curled up one corner of his mouth.

"But I have already changed many fates. And you are one of them."

Cherwyn blinked, confused. However, Ian said nothing more. He simply turned again toward the door.

"What does that...." Cherwyn’s murmur slipped out the moment he opened the door.

Letting out a soundless snort, Ian stepped out into the hallway.

I will refuse the fate of taking the North as many times as it takes.

The next morning, he and the others left the temple at dawn. The priests, having gathered on their own, sent them off with quiet respect. From there, they made their way toward the fortress gate, which was preparing for winter.