I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 663

"Ooh— Ooooo!"

"To the Demigod of the North—"

Ian, listening to the disjointed shouts, eventually clicked his tongue. Far from subsiding, it looked like they would keep up that racket all night if left alone.

"That’s enough scavenging for today. Or just stay here and wait," Ian said to Moro before finally turning away and walking off.

Moro followed him while letting out a reluctant breath. In the meantime, it seemed to have calmed its excitement and perfectly camouflaged itself again, no longer venting any chaos-tainted smoke.

Cleanup looks thorough.

Without slowing, Ian swept his gaze around. The area was littered with monster corpses. Sacred flames still burned here and there, filling the air with the stench of rot and scorched flesh.

Regardless, no presence of living monsters could be felt. The same went for the massive corpse sprawled off to one side, completely motionless.

It was easier thanks to the Butcher, but...

As he continued walking, Ian took in the body that had turned a dry, ashen gray. Even without Karha’s blessing, it wouldn’t have stood a chance against him.

It was only after roaming the snowfield wastelands that Ian truly felt how much he had changed. The experience of facing multiple legendary monsters, the habits carved into him through those battles, and the results of his continued growth all made themselves clear.

The Willful Grasp has definitely gotten stronger too.

Recalling the demon slamming into the ground, Ian nodded. The reason he hadn’t been crushed outright in its jaws had been the support of the Willful Grasp.

It was probably due to his recent growth, either from leveling up or opening his third eye. The range hadn’t expanded, and he still couldn’t sustain that much power for long, but even so, the ability had become far more useful.

"Great Warrior!"

"Ohhh...."

As Ian drew closer, the cheers finally died down. The barbarian warriors lowered their weapons and bowed their heads in unison.

After looking them over one by one, Ian finally said, "Lots of familiar faces."

He didn’t remember every name, but they were soldiers he had fought alongside on the Northern Front. For a wasteland subjugation, it made sense that only the elite had been deployed. The differences were subtle but clear: time had left its mark on them, and their equipment was heavier and more refined than before.

Of course, there were still a few whose names he remembered.

"Great Warrior."

Volber, standing near the center, was one of them.

"So you survived."

"Thanks to Karha’s blessing. And yours, Great Warrior. Though it took you longer to return than we thought." Volber glanced up at Ian, a faint smile forming on his lips.

"Had to clean up the mess you guys made." Ian, smiling back, jerked his chin. "Are you commanding the subjugation squad?"

"Yes. Along with this guy." Volber tilted his head to the side.

A young man with neatly grown hair and strong features stood there. Ian’s eyes flickered slightly—the face felt oddly familiar.

"Askel?"

When Ian said the name, the young man looked up and smiled. "Yes, Great Warrior. That’s me."

Ian, meeting Askel’s eyes, finally let out a chuckle.

"I didn’t expect to feel the passage of time in this way."

The barbarian boy he’d first met long ago had become a full-grown young man. He’d already been surprised by how much Askel had grown during the corrosion back then, but now it wasn’t even comparable. If anything, Askel looked taller than he did. The arm gripping the axe was thick with muscle.

"It’s thanks to eating well and sleeping well. Of course, I’ve kept myself clean, too," Askel said it with a broad grin.

Ian, quietly looking at the face with a grown beard and increased small scars, shrugged. "Can’t treat you like a kid anymore."

"Yes. I can finally follow behind you properly now, Great Warrior."

"He is also a Centurion recognized by the Council of Elders, Great Warrior," Volber added with a chuckle. Receiving Ian’s gaze, he shrugged. "Chosen through the traditional duel ritual. He is the strongest among his peers. Of course, he still has much to learn."

He nudged Askel’s arm lightly with his elbow. Askel chuckled and nodded without protest. The fact that he didn’t bristle at all was proof enough of how much he’d grown.

"Then I’ll take the interim report from you," Ian said with a smile.

Askel, wiping the smile from his face, clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his head. "Yes. We purified two corrupted zones, and four warriors were lost. We haven’t confirmed the number of wounded yet, but with Karha and Lu Entre’s blessings, they should recover fully within a day."

The warriors standing nearby nodded silently. No one wanted to look weak in front of the returned Great Warrior.

Without changing his expression, Ian said, "Supplies must be running low."

"N-No. They are sufficient." Askel answered at once, blinking in slight panic before continuing, "Originally, there were two more carriages loaded with supplies, but one broke during the subjugation. The other was sent back carrying the wounded."

"We divided the supplies among ourselves as much as possible. There are spares under the driver’s seat of the brazier’s carriage," Volber added, pulling out a tightly bound leather pouch from his coat.

Avoiding Ian’s gaze slightly, he lifted his head and said, "We started by rationing horse meat, so food’s more than enough. As for water, we just boil snow."

It was clear Volber had intervened, worrying Ian might order a return. More than anything, they wanted to keep fighting alongside him.

Ian stared at him for a moment, then eventually nodded. "Good. We’ll finish the subjugation. But make sure you identify every wounded man and treat them properly. Anyone hiding their injuries will be sent back immediately."

"Yes, Great Warrior!" Askel replied brightly.

Relief spread across Volber’s face as well.

Ian tilted his head to the side. "Clean up the area and set up camp. We’ll rest for a bit, then move."

"Yes!" Askel answered without hesitation.

Volber turned, raising his voice. "Orders from the Great Warrior! Begin!"

"We will obey!"

"Yes, Great Warrior!"

Only then did the barbarian warriors shout at full volume, scattering in all directions. As the area erupted into activity, Volber bowed once more.

"We are glad you returned. Please wait just a moment, Great Warrior."

"And I sincerely congratulate you on rising to the rank of a demigod."

At Askel’s addition, the corner of Ian’s mouth twisted.

That damn demigod thing.

Mev must have been the one to spread it. The reason he didn't deny it immediately was that he too felt the fact that he had entered the path of transcendence.

Though no matter how I think about it... it doesn’t feel like a mage’s kind of transcendence.

In any case, he had become something closer to a transcendent than a mere human. As Yog always whispered, if he ever fell to corruption, he could likely cast off the shackles entirely. Still, it didn’t particularly worry him.

"I am still human."

"... Pardon?"

At Ian’s blunt remark, Askel blinked.

Meeting his eyes, Ian added, "Now. And in the future."

To Ian, transcendence seemed like a matter of choice. And of course, he had no intention of becoming a god. Living forever in this world’s heavens held no appeal whatsoever.

If anything, it sounds like hell.

He longed for a life in a world filled with innovative electronics, modern medicine, and everyday conveniences. A place where delicious food could be delivered with the flick of a finger, and warm water was always available for a bath.

"So you mean you’ll keep fighting alongside us?" Askel suddenly burst out.

Looking at Ian with eyes shimmering with emotion, he added, "To choose us over ascension. We will follow you with our lives!"

"It’s good news for us as well. To think we’ll be able to fight alongside the Great Warrior for so long."

At Volber’s words, the corner of Ian’s mouth twisted further. They were hearing exactly what they wanted to hear.

Then again, they were the same people who had mistaken magic for divine authority when it was used right in front of them. Given the absurd legends surrounding his birth, trying to correct them now would be pointless.

"Go get back to work. I still have things to take care of."

"Yes, Great Warrior!"

Volber and Askel bowed and hurried off, lightly bumping elbows as they went.

While shaking his head gently, Ian looked toward the carriage behind them. A line of priests had been waiting for him this whole time.

Snort...

Moro, following behind, suddenly stopped a few steps back.

Found something tasty, did you?

Ian walked on without even giving a glance. The priests he passed lowered their heads one by one as they met his eyes.

Returning their greetings, Ian soon came face to face with a rough-looking priest standing beside Lucia.

"Heheh... long time no see," said Miguel, scrunching his face into a broad grin.

Ian, stopping in front of him, jerked his chin. "Guess you finished the emotional reunion."

"Well, tears were definitely shed."

At Miguel’s answer, Lucia let out a low cough

Ian, chuckling, added, "I heard your name even across the Inner Sea. Made a lot of things easier for me. You’ve done well, Miguel."

"I merely did what needed to be done, Great Warrior. Or should I say... demigod?"

"Don’t get all formal for no reason."

"Heh. My cheeks were starting to itch." Miguel, cracking a joke, tilted his head slightly and lowered his voice. "So, did you meet the Great One?"

"Yeah. It fell into a deep sleep."

"That’s a relief. I was constantly worried something bad might have happened to him." Miguel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The relief lasted only a moment.

"Heh, so it looks like it’s letting me keep this, then. I figured as much. It doesn’t seem like the type to take back a gift once it’s given."

Chuckling, he raised his steel prosthetic arm slightly before his face.

Ian chuckled. "Take good care of it so it doesn't break. It won’t fix it for you."

"Don’t worry. I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life."

Rubbing the prosthetic arm as if caressing it, Miguel added, "More importantly, did you receive the sword?"

"Not yet. I’m leaving it with her a little longer."

"Eh? That good sword, why?"

"Just because." Ian’s calm gaze brushed past Miguel’s prosthetic arm. The image of Lucia wailing while hugging that flashed through his mind for a moment.

Miguel, blinking, nodded. "Well... I suppose you’ve got your reasons."

Shaking off his thoughts, Ian asked, "Did Sir Riurel head back to the carriage?"

Lucia nodded. "Yes. She’ll be coming this way."

"Alright. We can load the wounded into the carriage. But what’s with that one?" Nodding, Ian turned his gaze toward the front of the brazier carriage.

Behind the line of priests, a rich mane, almost golden, rippled softly. It belonged to the white horse standing motionless, its head lowered toward the ground.

Miguel cleared his throat and whispered, covering his mouth with one hand. "It took it pretty hard. Seeing you come back riding a different horse, I mean."

"So that’s why you said we should give it some time?" Lucia whispered back, her eyes widening.

Ian let out a silent chuckle and turned away. At Miguel’s gesture, the priests stepped aside, revealing Nila’s form in full.

"I heard about it. But you really became holy. Nila," said Ian, approaching it.

Nila lowered its head further, letting out a soft snort. It didn’t look angry—more dispirited than anything.

"The mark on your flank is very cool too," Ian, stopping, added.

He wasn’t just saying it. A long scar ran along Nila’s side. It was a wound received while trying to protect Lucia on the Northern Front in the past. Judging by its size, it was a miracle Nila had survived at all.

It was also why Ian had once believed it was dead.

"It’s been years since we last saw each other. Are you really going to greet me with your head down like that?" Ian asked gently.

Finally, Nila lifted its head. The moist look in its eyes was likely not an illusion. Ian hugged its neck.

"Thank you for surviving, Nila."

Nila finally leaned its head on his shoulder.

Stroking the mane, Ian added, "I didn’t abandon you. You’re still my horse. But that one’s my horse too. I’ll introduce you properly. You should greet each other."

Nila, who stopped breathing for a moment, soon let out a sigh of resignation. Ian, patting its neck, loosened his arms and turned around.

His eyes flickered when he looked toward Moro. Moro was standing like a statue with its head held slightly high. It was even staring piercingly at Nila.

What, is it trying to assert dominance or something?

"That one’s Moro," said Ian.

At his gesture, Moro finally approached. Unlike usual, its steps were slow and dignified. The blade-like horn jutting from its snout was held high, its gaze never leaving Nila.

Snort...

Nila didn’t avert its eyes either. The look it gave Moro was nothing like the one it’d shown Ian.

That was when Miguel slipped an arm around Ian and quietly tugged him back. "H-Hey, you sure this is fine? Looks like one of them might end up dead at this rate."

"No way." Ian shrugged nonchalantly.

Neither of the two was the type to die easily to begin with. Of course, he wasn’t about to just stand by if something truly went wrong. Still, letting them size each other up a bit didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

If they realize neither is a pushover, it might be rather peacef—

Halfway through that thought, Ian let out a silent, hollow chuckle. Only then did it strike him how ridiculous this whole scene was.

Clip-clop— clip-clop—

In the meantime, the black horse and the white horse kept drawing closer.

While Nila glared with a slightly lowered stance, Moro, having reached right in front of it, finally stopped. Moro was larger, and with Nila crouched, the two ended up staring each other down from above and below.

While Miguel swallowed nervously, Moro slowly lowered its head. It wasn't trying to threaten Nila with its blade horn. As if trying to rub cheeks, it was carefully bringing its head to the side of Nila’s head.