I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 667

Ian’s gaze passed briefly over Lucas and the adjutant standing beside him with a bottle in hand.

As he turned away, his eyes narrowed. It wasn’t just because Nila had stepped into the center of the square, where the light of the sacred fire poured down, or because the elders lined up before the altar were drawing closer. It was the barbarians filling the streets and alleys beyond, all of them bowing their heads.

"Demigod—"

"Our Great Warrior."

At some point, Ian realized the whispers had become unnaturally clear. Even with hearing as sharp as a fairy’s, this wasn’t normal. The sense of distance felt warped as well, leaving him with the uneasy impression that he was hallucinating.

Is this also an aftereffect of opening the parietal eye? Or maybe....

Perhaps it was yet another sign that he had stepped into the realm of transcendence. In any case, one thing was certain. The religious solemnity pressing down on him was not a delusion. The barbarians truly regarded him as a demigod. And perhaps Lu Entre and Karha were acknowledging it as well.

Do they want me to transcend like this and become, what, a member of the heavens?

Ian clicked his tongue inwardly. He had no intention of sinking into the transcendent sensation. It wasn’t difficult to resist. A steady breath and a focus on his five senses were enough to pull him back to reality, and the whispers gradually faded.

Snort...

It was then that Nila, faint sparks flickering through its mane, came to a halt before the bowing elders. Ian could feel Mev following close behind, Moro puffing its breath in visible discomfort, and the barbarian subjugation squad coming to a stop one by one.

At the same time, the whispers vanished completely. It wasn’t magic. Everyone had simply fallen silent. Ian immediately understood what they were waiting for. He didn’t relish it, but it was unavoidable.

Looking around once, Ian finally said, "I was gone for a long time. Thank you for welcoming me like this."

His voice wasn’t loud. Even so, it carried far, borne by the divinity spreading from his battle tattoos.

"But I’m not the one you should truly be welcoming today."

Ian turned his gaze back. His eyes passed over Caleb and Miguel sitting side by side beyond Moro, which had lowered its head as if enduring the sensation, then over the warriors lined up behind the carriage.

"The ones who deserve honor are the warriors who returned after purging the wastelands of the snowfields."

The warriors snapped their heads up and looked toward him. Not all of them were visible, blocked by the carriage, but the reaction was likely the same throughout. Ian turned his gaze back to the crowd, unfazed.

"Treat them accordingly. That is all."

The silence that followed didn’t last long.

"Praise the Great Warrior—"

The shout rang out from the subjugation squad. It was Askel’s voice. As Ian’s eyes narrowed slightly, the residents raised both arms as though they had been waiting for it.

"O Demigod of the North!"

"Ooooooh—"

"Long live the Great Warrior!"

The divinity clinging to Karha’s statue flared a deeper red, and the sacred flames surged higher, bathing the plaza in brilliant light.

Did they even hear a word I said?

Clicking his tongue, Ian swung down from Nila’s saddle. The elders were approaching. Slinging Nila’s reins over his shoulder, Ian studied them carefully. There were a few unfamiliar faces among them, but most were ones he recognized. Aiba. Kvassar. And one-eyed Urd, Askel’s grandfather.

As they drew close, Ian finally said, "You have managed the city excellently even in my absence. You’ve all worked hard."

"You flatter us, Demigod," Urd replied respectfully as he came to a halt. He then turned to the other elders and added, "We merely leaned on the Great Warrior’s name."

"If that were all, the city wouldn’t have flourished to this extent. Though that statue is a bit much. This welcome as well." Ian jerked his chin toward the altar.

The elders’ gazes shifted to the hulking statue of Ian flexing beside Karha’s divine image.

After a moment, Urd said, "In our view, it is not excessive at all. Rather, it is woefully insufficient to contain the Demigod’s greatness."

Is he saying that seriously?

As Ian let out a dry chuckle, Urd added, "This gathering, too, was prepared voluntarily by the residents."

"They even prepared a banquet on their own?"

"Of course, Great Warrior."

Ian nodded. "Let’s postpone it a few days. Everyone is injured and exhausted. Rest and recovery come first."

"As you wish, Great Warrior."

"To be honest, the banquet preparations aren’t fully complete yet. We only heard a few days ago that you’d be returning with the subjugation squad," Kvassar added, smiling through the deep wrinkles in his face.

That made sense. Lucas had traveled from the Barrier Fortress, through Travelga, and back through the gate to reach the city. In truth, his presence alone was surprising. It hadn’t even been a full month since Ian had crossed the barrier.

"When did Commander Lucas arrive here?"

"Three days ago."

One corner of Ian’s mouth curled up. The man must have hurried, which meant there was a reason to.

Urd suddenly glanced over his shoulder and murmured, "By the way, that is...."

Mev stood behind him, holding Selim’s reins.

"This is Sir Mev Riurel, the Red Knight of the frontier," Ian said, glancing at her. "My escort, and a blood relative of Priest Lucifer."

He turned back to the elders. "We’ll save the formalities for later. Please take care of my companions and the subjugation squad. I need to speak with Commander Lucas."

"Yes. As you wish, Great Warrior."

The elders answered in unison.

Stepping forward at once, Aiba extended her hand. "Please hand the reins to me."

As Ian handed over the reins without hesitation, the remaining elders quickly dispersed.

"Stop! Everyone, attend the subjugation squad!"

"Obey the Great Warrior’s command! Prepare meals and bathwater!"

The unceasing cheers gradually died down, and moments later, the residents flooded into the plaza. The already noisy space grew even more chaotic—not only because the crowd was closing in on the subjugation squad.

"Alcohol! Bring alcohol first! We have a lot to say!"

"The Demigod wrote a new legend. If you want to hear, follow us. We’ll tell you while washing!"

As eager townsfolk all but stripped the weapons from their hands, the warriors shouted back at the top of their lungs. For days to come, the entire city would no doubt buzz with stories about Ian.

"Let’s go," Ian said to Mev and moved forward.

No one approached his path. Perhaps the elders were holding them back, but even without that, no one would dare stand in the way of the Great Warrior.

"Agent of the Saint," said Lucas as Ian approached. The strange tension still lingered on his face.

Without slowing his steps, Ian let the corners of his mouth curl slightly. "I didn’t expect you to arrive first and be waiting."

Only then did Lucas manage a stiff smile. "I... was surprised as well. I thought I’d be waiting at least another week."

"Well, I was in a hurry." Ian met his gaze calmly, then tipped his chin. "And it seems you were much the same."

Lucas’s smile tightened. Beside him, Hester, the adjutant holding the liquor bottle, visibly held his breath.

Ian’s smile deepened. "So in the end, it seems the Archduke misunderstood my intentions."

"Th-That isn’t it!" Lucas blurted out, then swallowed hard and dipped his head slightly. "Of course, I can’t claim to know His Grace’s innermost thoughts. But he did say he believes in the Agent of the Saint’s sincerity. What unsettles me is—"

Pausing mid-sentence, Lucas forced an awkward smile. "Ah, I’m getting ahead of myself. You’ve just returned from subjugating the snowfields. You should rest first. Until you call for me, I—"

"I’m fine," Ian cut in. Then, glancing aside, he added, "But it’s too noisy here. Let’s move somewhere quiet."

Lucas fell silent, realizing there were far too many ears around them. Thankfully, Ian didn’t even have to think about whom to ask.

A barbarian boy was already standing near the altar, looking straight at him. Recognizing the face, Ian smiled and beckoned.

"It’s been a while, Rigg. You’ve grown."

"Thank you for remembering me, Great Warrior." The boy hurried over and bowed deeply, unable to hide the joy on his face.

"How could I forget? You were my attendant."

Rigg was the young barbarian boy who served Ian at Hope City. His face was still youthful, but he’d clearly grown since then.

"You’re attending me this time too, then."

"Of course. I’ve been managing the Great Warrior’s residence this whole time."

"All this time?" Ian’s brow creased slightly.

Rigg hurriedly waved his hands. "I did it because I wanted to. I didn’t want to give up such an honor."

What honor....

Letting out a chuckle at last, Ian shook his head. "Then guide us. I need a private conversation with the Commander."

"Where shall I take you? There’s the house you used before, and also a newly built residence."

So they even built another one. Everyone must have been certain I’d return alive.

"For now, to the house used before."

"Yes. I will escort you." Rigg nodded and moved ahead.

Ian followed naturally, then paused and glanced back toward the center of the square.

"Take me too!"

A familiar shout cut through the noise.

Perched atop the carriage roof like an island in the crowd, Thesaya was waving at him. It was obvious she thought whatever conversation was happening on this side would be far more interesting. The reason she only stretched out a hand was equally clear. She had no intention of plunging into the dense crowd.

She could come if she really wanted to. What an act.

Snorting inwardly, Ian led Lucas, who had taken the bottle, and Mev forward. Behind them, the red divinity clinging to the statue and the sacred fire blazing in the brazier continued to illuminate the square even as he left it behind.

***

"Looks like he’s been taking good care of the place," Ian murmured as he stepped inside.

It looked almost exactly as he remembered. The only changes were a faint musty scent and the bear and wolf pelts spread across the dirt floor. A fire was even burning steadily in the small kitchen off to the side.

"Come in. Sit."

Ian went to the table and dropped into a chair, drawing the pewter cups closer. Judging by the items scattered around the room, Imperial goods were no longer uncommon here—likely thanks to the merchants who passed through so often.

"Thank you, Agent of the Saint." Lucas finally entered and took the seat across from him, breaking the seal on the bottle. It was clearly a vintage brought from the capital.

His adjutant, Hester, remained by the door instead of entering, standing guard to ensure no one overheard.

"If you need anything, please call for me," Rigg said, holding the door as Mev stepped inside and removed her helmet.

Ian glanced at the boy and tipped his chin. "It’s cold. Just come in."

"I’m fine, thanks to the warmth of the sacred flame. Please, speak freely," said Rigg, maturely, and closed the door.

Chuckling softly, Ian accepted the cup Lucas filled.

As Lucas poured another, he asked, "Would it be all right if I had a glass as well, Agent of the Saint?"

"You brought it, Commander. Of course."

"Thank you."

After setting a cup in front of Mev, Lucas filled his own and sat down. In the meantime, Ian took a sip of the wine. After drinking nothing but strong liquor for so long, the wine’s aroma felt especially rich.

Mev and Lucas followed suit, each lifting their cups.

Ian watched them briefly before he said, "So something went wrong, even though my intentions weren’t misunderstood."

"After reporting directly to His Grace, I stayed at the inner castle for several days."

Lucas set his cup down and continued, smacking his lips softly, "His Grace asked me to deliver a letter to you. I understood the delay. Once news reached that the Empire was on the brink of civil war, it’s only natural that he’d need time to think."

Ian lifted his cup again and nodded calmly. That was one of the reasons he had revealed the existence of the Dark Prince in the first place—to force the information to be used very differently from before.

Lowering his gaze to the cup, Lucas continued in a quieter voice, "If a messenger hadn’t arrived from the Central region, I would’ve waited even longer."

Mev’s eyes twitched.

Ian set his cup down. "From the Central region?"

Lucas nodded. "Yes. He carried an Imperial order from His Majesty the Emperor. He looked exhausted and in a great hurry, clearly having ridden straight from the capital to Travelga without rest."

"I see." Mev glanced back at Ian meaningfully. Ian returned the look with a faint nod.

Just as he’d suspected, the group sent to the capital must have informed the Princess, who then passed it on to the Emperor.

"I don’t know what was discussed between the messenger and His Grace, nor the contents of the edict," Lucas went on, unaware of the exchange between them. "I wasn’t able to speak to the messenger. He changed horses immediately and departed for the Central region. That same night, His Grace finished the letter and handed it to me."

Reaching into his coat, Lucas took out a tightly rolled parchment and held it out to Ian.

"With a very relieved and satisfied face."