I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 671

Even though he’d expected it, Ian couldn’t stop one eye from twitching. Urd continued on without a care.

Unbothered by his reaction, Urd said, "We modeled it after the Chair of Karha as passed down through oral tradition. It was originally placed in the assembly hall, but we moved it here so you could sit before your speech."

"Why go to such lengths...." Ian muttered with a sigh.

Wearing a wrinkled smile, Urd bowed slightly. "Don’t worry. Once the banquet begins, it will be returned to its original place."

That wasn’t what Ian meant at all, but instead of correcting Urd, he merely smacked his lips. No matter what he said, Ian knew he’d only get an infuriating answer in return.

"It’s quite impressive," Thesaya said from behind. "It looks somewhat blasphemous, but that makes it all the more intense and impressive."

The feeling that laughter was laced in her voice wasn't a mistake.

As Ian’s eyes narrowed a bit more, Urd looked back at Thesaya and said, "I suppose it could be seen that way. Karha is said to have adorned his seat with beast bones, but we, however, used the purified bones of demonic beasts."

"Well, those are far more fitting materials for the Great Warrior," Thesaya replied.

"You are correct, but that is not all." Urd shook his head, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. Clearly, he’d been waiting for the chance to explain.

Looking toward the altar, he continued, "We framed it with wood treated with snow and ash, and as I said, decorated it with the bones of demonic beasts. We then draped it with the furs of various beasts. All of them are things that symbolize the current snowfield."

"Oh, I see now. Sitting there would symbolize ruling over the snowfields," murmured Thesaya.

After a brief pause, she added, "Then it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it the Throne of the Snowfields. Don't you think so?"

It wasn't just her tone that deepened the furrow in Ian's brow. It was because Urd burst into laughter without denying it.

Nodding his head, Urd looked back at Thesaya with satisfaction. "You have changed in many ways from before. You have an excellent eye. May we continue to call it that?"

"I don't think that's something you should ask the Elder," Ian finally said.

As Urd paused, Ian looked at him and added, "Were you planning to seat me on that throne in front of everyone?"

"The Great Warrior is the one who must become the true master of the snowfields—no, of this North." Urd’s expression turned solemn, as if he’d never laughed at all.

He bowed his head slightly. "It is not just me; every barbarian desires this with one heart."

So, they’ve already been preparing for independence.

Ian swallowed a sigh. Indeed. Since their grudges against the Archduke had piled up as high as they could, it wasn't strange. They must have been quietly sharpening their blades, waiting for the day he returned.

Of course, he couldn't play along with their tune. The Archduke would certainly consider it a rebellion, not independence.

"Great Warrior—"

"You have arrived."

As Ian smacked his lips, the altar came fully into view, along with the elders gathered around it. Spotting him, they bowed one after another.

Ian turned his gaze from Urd just as Kvassar stepped forward and bowed.

"I apologize for the delayed assembly, Great Warrior. We will prepare as quickly as possible."

"Take your time," Ian said without even looking at him. "I need to sort out my thoughts anyway."

With that, he passed straight by the elders and headed for the stairs leading up to the dais. Urd bowed deeply, then turned back to the others.

"Did you tell the Great Warrior?"

"Yes. Call it the Throne of the Snowfields from now on. The Elder named it."

"That's a fine name indeed!"

Ignoring the voices, Ian stepped onto the stairs, suppressing the urge to smash the throne to pieces.

I had planned to keep this brief.

Letting out a silent sigh instead, he began revising his speech in his head. It seemed he’d have no choice but to speak longer than intended.

"It’s a shame none of the spoils from the recent subjugation were used as decoration," Thesaya whispered from behind.

"I find it more unfortunate that there are no dragon bones. It would’ve been impossible to get, but nothing would have been more symbolic," Nasser added.

Ian turned back, his gaze cold. His frown deepened when he saw even Mev was watching with a strange, expectant look in her eyes.

Well, if I hadn’t seen the foresight, I might’ve sat down on it.

Smacking his lips, Ian turned his gaze toward the plaza behind him.

"At last...."

"The empty seat finally finds its rightful owner...."

The barbarians gathered in the square were watching him with shining eyes. Of course, the assembly wasn’t complete yet.

"Finish up quickly and come!"

"The Great Warrior has arrived! Hurry!"

Beyond the plaza, in streets and alleys, the centurions were urging the residents along. People continued to stream in, but it would still take some time before everyone had gathered.

Shaking his head, Ian stepped onto the altar and moved behind the divine statue and the throne.

"Oh—you’re here?"

Beside the brazier where the sacred flame flickered, Miguel straightened up after leaning his poker against a pile of firewood.

Seeing sweat bead across his face, Ian tipped his chin. "I should have brought another priest. It must be hard with that hand."

"Huh? Nah, I’m fine. I’m used to it now—it doesn’t even feel uncomfortable anymore." Miguel waved his prosthetic hand dismissively, then turned back toward the brazier.

"Just give me a moment. I’ll finish tidying up and go down." He picked up the long metal tongs placed next to the poker.

Behind the brazier lay long, blade-like claws, yellowed fangs, and twisted horns—the remains of the snowfield demons Ian had slain. Since the sacred fire would burn them away if put in the brazier, this was likely their way of purifying the remnants of chaos.

Watching Miguel work in a flurry, Ian said, "Don’t go anywhere. Stand beside me."

"Eh? Me?" Miguel asked, bewildered, glancing over the others. His face said plainly that he didn’t think he belonged among them.

"Come next to me, Prosthetic. I’ll stand out more if I’m with you," Thesaya chimed in quickly.

When Mev and Naser also nodded, only then did the corners of Miguel's mouth twitch. "If everyone’s fine with it... well...."

What's with getting all emotional over this?

Even while thinking that, Ian finally looked back at the throne. The backrest was taller than he was. The bones decorating it were firmly fixed, and even though the rear would rarely be seen, it was meticulously draped in pelts.

Swoosh...

The moment Ian’s eyes brushed the statue beside it, crimson divinity spread as if it had been waiting. But that wasn’t what made his expression tighten.

To think there was still something left.

A quest window had popped up before his eyes.

[Great Warrior's Choice.]

It was unmistakably a barbarian-exclusive quest, one he had assumed was long over. The choice before him was simple: sit upon the throne and rule the snowfields, or abandon the seat entirely.

Isn't the difference in rewards too great?

Ian's eyes narrowed. Sitting on the throne would grant a massive amount of experience, two skill points, and two additional unknown rewards. Refusing it would yield only a small amount of experience and a single unknown reward.

"Looks like even Karha is excited," Thesaya whispered.

Mev and Nasser were also glancing at each other with smiles. Smacking his lips, Ian closed the quest window. Normally, he would have pondered deeply, but now there was no need. Even with rewards on the line, his decision wouldn’t change.

It’s a damn waste, though...

As if shaking off his regret, Ian turned and walked into the space between the statue and the throne.

Mev and Nasser moved to the opposite side of the throne, while Thesaya and Miguel followed behind. The full view of the plaza crowded with barbarians spread out before them.

"Eternal battle—"

"Karha is watching over us."

Barbarians packed the streets and alleys alike, all bowing their heads. Ian slowly looked them over as he walked to the front of the throne. In one corner of the plaza stood Lucas, with Hester and Caleb beside him. When their eyes met, Lucas gave a subtle nod.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Ian nodded back and stopped with the throne at his back. Warmth spread along his left arm as he surveyed the plaza.

"Before long, the Empire will be consumed by civil war. The central lands will fall into chaos, and countless deaths will follow."

His voice, laden with divinity, spread out like an echo. The already-quiet square fell silent, as though doused with cold water. It was enough to awaken senses beyond instinct—something closer to transcendence.

"As an Agent of the Great Platinum Dragon, I cannot turn away from that war. But you are different. This is not a matter of the snowfields. Nor is it a war of the North. I have no intention of forcing you to choose."

After a brief pause, he added, "However, that is not why I won’t be sitting on this throne."

The murmurs spreading through the barbarians turned into shock. Some gasped; others jerked their heads up to stare at him in disbelief. Even those standing at his side looked back at him, visibly startled.

"The true owners of this land and this city are not me, but all of you gathered here."

The red divinity clinging to the statue flickered, but Ian continued without pause, "Karha fought for survival and freedom. What you need is not a king to obey, but a warrior to fight alongside you. Therefore, I will leave this throne empty. Not just now, but in the future as well."

When Ian finished and fell silent, a strange hush settled over the square. The looks in the residents’ eyes shifted, the shock and disbelief giving way to something else entirely.

"I will follow you!" The thunderous shout broke out moments later.

Ian’s gaze swept through the crowd.

"Even if this isn’t a matter of the North, I will gladly follow the Great Warrior!" Askel, shouting while looking at him, raised his clenched right arm high above his head. "For the empty throne and the Demigod who does not reign—"

As if that were a signal, fists shot up across the plaza.

"Even if death awaits, we will follow to the end!"

"For the eternal battle and the Great Demigod—"

The howling faces of Volber, Valeri, Alder, and the other centurions were quickly swallowed by rising arms.

"Even if death awaits!"

"To the very end!"

"Ooooo—"

Soon, a single roar, uncoordinated yet blazing, filled the square. It wasn’t only the barbarians—Mev, Nasser, and Miguel joined in, and even Thesaya raised her fist and shouted along.

"For the Great Demigod—"

Lucas, Hester, and Caleb from the Autonomous Territory did the same, with Caleb even shedding tears like some of the barbarian warriors.

At least I didn’t lose the barbarians.

When the quest completion window appeared before his eyes, Ian finally let out a quiet breath of relief. It was little more than clever wordplay, but it had worked exactly as intended.

His eyes twitched the moment he closed the window. Another quest followed immediately.

[First Step of Ascension.]

The explanation was simply that he had made a noble choice, and was completed with confirmation. The rewards included experience, a skill point, and even a mystery reward.

Is ascension really the final stage for the Barbarian Warrior class?

Perhaps, just like the White Mage quest, this might have been a hidden quest. One he’d never receive if he’d chosen to sit on the throne.

The moment he confirmed the quest, thunderous laughter brushed his ears. The red divinity gathered on Karha's statue was blazing as if rejoicing.

So that’s it. You didn’t expect me to sit on the throne.

At last, one corner of Ian’s mouth curled upward. If he’d taken the throne, he might have gained the barbarians’ absolute obedience—but lost Karha’s blessing in return. The mystery reward could just as easily have been a penalty. It wasn’t unheard of.

If so, he’d avoided a trap without even realizing it.

Swoosh...

When he closed the completion window, the blazing red divinity scattered, carried away by the roar of the crowd.

"For the Demigod of the North!"

"Ooooo—"

The heat of the moment surged back into focus. The cheers that continued only subsided when Ian slightly raised his fist.

Letting his arm drop loosely, Ian said, "Insisting on following me to the bitter end. You're all just as stubborn as Karha."

Of course, there was no one angry at the blasphemy. Laughter broke out instead, even among the elders who’d looked close to tears moments earlier.

Ian shook his head once, then added, "Don’t bother me anymore today. Eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves."

Ian, curling up the corners of his mouth, tilted his head to the side. "And put that throne back where it belongs."