I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 680

Seras tilted her head and looked at Ian, then set her cup back on the table.

"I don't know what you are worried about. Even if the Archduke is gathering troops, he can't attack the snowfields first."

"Of course not." Ian nodded easily.

Even if the Archduke lost his reason and ordered an attack, his commanders would refuse. Unless it came from the Empire itself, Northerners wouldn’t turn their swords on one another without cause.

"However, the Archduke may not be the problem for much longer," Ian added.

Seras looked even more puzzled.

Finding a strange sense of amusement in that, Ian stood up. "I’m only preparing for a possibility. If any new information comes in from the capital, please inform me immediately."

"No—wait. What exactly are you preparing for?" she asked, blinking blankly.

Ian turned away, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. "Well, I lack sufficient grounds to explain just yet."

"Huh."

"Get some rest. I have work to attend to."

Leaving Seras behind in speechless frustration, Ian opened the door. A gust of icy wind laced with snow rushed in, along with the sight of a lively street beyond.

As he stepped outside, his face had already returned to its usual blank calm. The realization that his choices from here on would determine the fate of countless lives settled heavily on him.

A silver streak dropped beside him a moment later.

"As expected, the Dark Prince is no ordinary figure," said Thesaya.

For reasons unknown, she had once again been eavesdropping from the rooftops. Ian, who’d sensed her presence long ago, merely nodded without looking her way.

Falling into step beside him, she continued, "In that case, let’s just let the princess’s vision come true, Ian."

"Earlier, you were saying we should side with the Emperor," Ian said with a low chuckle.

Thesaya shrugged beneath her cloak. "That was before I heard all this. No matter how I look at it, the Dark Prince seems like he’ll turn the Great Church upside down properly. The Round Table especially."

Only then did Ian glance at her.

Thesaya smiled. "It doesn’t have to be my hand that finishes my revenge. I’ll be satisfied if they all die. Though... Redhead might feel differently."

"Maybe." Ian clicked his tongue softly.

Thesaya’s eyes twitched. "You think the princess’s vision might be wrong?"

"It’s not about the vision. All she saw was the capital falling."

"Oh, right. She didn’t see the Papal State or the Imperial palace itself collapsing." Thesaya nodded easily.

As she herself had said, that was the limitation of Seras’s foresight.

"We also don't know what state the Dark Prince and his legion will be in when they arrive," Ian added calmly.

Hyked had buttoned the first button perfectly, but that didn't guarantee everything would flow as he desired. There was no telling when or where an unforeseen variable might seize him by the ankle.

Just like it always does with me.

It wouldn't be strange if things were vastly different by the time they reached the capital. And time wasn’t on the Dark Prince’s side, either—not simply because he’d left the Black Lands.

Hyked and the Black Lions were fated, sooner or later, to be consumed by madness. If the civil war hastened that moment, it would hardly be surprising at all.

If that happens, perhaps he will be the last...

"You're worried about the front lines, aren't you?" Thesaya asked, staring at his profile as he murmured internally with sunken eyes.

Ian snapped out of his thoughts and looked at her.

"That’s why you want to be ready to move at any time," she said, walking without pause.

"Yes, that's right," Ian admitted, nodding after a moment.

"Figures. That’s what I thought. What about warning the Archduke... yeah. He wouldn’t believe you."

Ian just shrugged.

Thesaya narrowed her eyes. "What would it be? An archdemon?"

"If something happens, probably," Ian murmured, looking ahead again. "Nothing might happen. As I said, I'm just preparing for the worst."

"For that to be the case... Oh, it's Snub-Nose." She had spotted a large, hooded figure walking out of an alley onto the main street.

As Ian met the yellow eyes beneath the hood, Thesaya whispered, "I'll keep this between us. It’d be embarrassing if we warned them and nothing happened. Plus, I want to see their surprised faces."

That really is you.

Ian smirked and jerked his chin forward. "Is the horse holding up all right, Mukapa?"

"Yes," Mukapa replied, approaching them. Deeply hooded, he was dressed in thick layers beneath his fur cloak.

"Thank you for your consideration. I believe it’ll recover fully before long."

His pony had caught a cold, which was expected for a Southern breed unaccustomed to the cold. Both Mukapa and the barbarians had been paying close attention to it.

Ian nodded. "That's a relief. There’s a lot of heavy lifting to do. Will you help?"

"Yes, gladly." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

As Mukapa nodded and turned away, Ian’s gaze shifted to his side.

Thesaya, who had been quietly trying to slip away, froze as an invisible grip seized her body.

"Enough fooling around. You help too."

"I absolutely hate manual labor..."

Despite her sigh, Thesaya turned around readily enough. Still holding her with the Willful Grasp, Ian looked back toward the nearby square. Everyone was still bustling about.

On the altar, Miguel and the priests were diligently tending the sacred flame. The forge had clearly begun operating again.

"Hope we can finish before the blizzard hits," murmured Ian, hastening his steps. There was still far too much to prepare.

***

The snow-swept landscape flashed white. Along a faint path cutting through the white snowfields, thunder rumbled a beat late.

Boom— Rumble—

With thunder rolling a beat behind them, three wagons loaded high with logs moved in a line. Leading the front wagon were two Northern Warhorses, centered around Moro.

Snort...

Snorting clouds of breath, Moro lowered its head and kept moving, plowing through the freshly fallen snow without slowing. That was precisely why it had been placed at the front.

Looks like this is the last run.

The conditions were far too dangerous for any more logging expeditions. Truth be told, even this trip had been a gamble, relying heavily on Moro and Nila.

Whoosh—

As a snow-laced icy wind swept along the ridge, Ian pressed a hand to his hood and glanced back. Mukapa and the barbarian warriors who had joined the logging crew were following him.

Beyond them, sparse trees stood against the sky. The barbarians hadn't cut down every tree, leaving every other one standing to preserve the forest.

Ian’s gaze swept over the trees before lifting to the sky, thick with dark clouds. Like the lightning earlier, they didn’t seem to have formed over the mountains, but rolled in from far beyond them. By now, the main territory might already be swallowed by a full blizzard.

Why isn't it waking up?

Ian looked down at his wrist. Yog remained asleep even outside the city. He’d tried feeding it a trickle of chaos power, but nothing had changed. All he could sense was a vague transformation occurring within it.

Perhaps, like Moro, it was in the process of building resistance to divinity.

Anyway...

Ian licked his lips and looked forward again. Hope City came into view over a gentle slope. The wooden palisade surrounding the city had become thicker and denser, and the watchtowers rising at intervals had been solidly reinforced. It now resembled a fortress more than a city.

We weren't too late.

This transformation had been achieved in less than three weeks, thanks to the mobilization of nearly every barbarian in the city. Ian continued walking toward the flickering lights beyond the walls.

"They're coming! Get ready!"

"Open the gates!"

Shouts rang out from the watchtowers. Moments later, the massive gates swung open with a heavy groan. Four or five barbarians pushed each door, snow spilling across the ground with them.

"Thank you for your hard work!"

"Don't stop the wagons, keep moving!"

The waiting barbarians greeted Ian and his party. As he stepped inside the city, Ian handed his ax to Volber. Wagons led by Moro, then Nila, rolled past his side.

Ian turned back. "You all worked hard. Rest for today. Go get some food first."

"Yes, Great Warrior!"

The logging crew, removing their snow-covered hoods and handing over their loads, responded in unison. They were utterly exhausted, worn down by cold and fatigue.

Mukapa, still wearing his hood low, approached Ian. "I’ll take care of the horses."

"Alright, I leave it to you," Ian nodded.

Mukapa was one of the few people capable of handling Moro and Nila if they acted up.

"I'll help you, Gray Brother."

"Gray Brother! Hey, wait for me!"

Several barbarian warriors followed Mukapa. Unexpectedly, he was popular among them. He was strong and skilled with an ax and hammer, yet quiet and diligent. Even the elders had begun incorporating his advice when revising the city’s rules.

"Alright, everyone! Let's unload and dismiss!"

"Hey, you brats sweeping snow! Get the bathwater ready!"

Ian walked along the still-noisy and busy main street.

Though everyone assumed they’d soon be drawn into the civil war, there was no gloom to be found. Instead, they were filled with dreams of earning glory alongside Ian and being granted autonomous rule independent of the Emperor.

"Great Warrior!" Rigg came running as they entered the square where the wagons were lined up.

Without stopping, Ian tilted his chin. "Is everyone eating already?"

"Everything’s prepared. They said you’d arrive any minute, so they went ahead," Rigg answered as he turned to follow.

"And the young lady—no messages from her?" Ian asked, walking toward the mansion.

Rigg shook his head. "No. She didn't seek you out today."

Ian’s eyes twitched slightly. It was already past the time a messenger should’ve arrived from the front.

Figures. Communication with the center must be rough.

The capital was likely chaotic for an entirely different reason by now. A civil war was the perfect chance to reshape the line of succession.

"Shall I prepare the bath right away?" Rigg asked as they neared the mansion.

"You go eat first. I'll take my bath later."

"Yes. Then I will see you shortly." Rigg answered with a smile, bowed slightly, and turned away.

His house was nearby.

Diligent kid.

Ian opened the door and stepped into the warmly lit interior.

"You're here, Ian?"

"Welcome. Perfect timing."

Already gathered around the table, the group greeted him. Ian tossed aside the Cloak of the Undying and moved toward the empty seat of honor.

"Is everything all right out there? The snowfall looked pretty serious today," Miguel asked from the far end. His face was flushed from going back and forth between the brazier and the forge all day.

"Not really. We’re done going out for now," Ian said, pulling a bottle with the Willful Grasp as Mev placed a cup before him.

Across from Miguel, Nasser chewed on salted meat and murmured, "If it keeps snowing like this, we might be stuck here all winter."

"Yeah. But will that be okay?" Thesaya, seated beside him, turned to Ian. "If we end up isolated, we won’t know what’s going on, no matter what happens."

"Oh, come on. Don’t worry about that. If anything happens, someone’ll come charging through the blizzard to tell us," said Miguel. There was an edge to his tone, as if to warn them not to underestimate the people of the North.

Thesaya let out a scoff.

Ian took a sip of his drink, then asked, "Anything happened while I was out?"

"Same as always," Mev answered from across Thesaya.

Meeting Ian's gaze, she wore a faint smile. "Except that we’re finally seeing results from the training."

"That’s right. Their movements are getting more structured, and they’re starting to work together in group combat." Nasser added, his usual smile touching his lips. "Of course, they are still just mimicking the forms."

"They'll do better in actual combat. That’s just how they are," Ian replied, chewing on a piece of meat.

As Nasser shrugged and raised his cup, Miguel said, "The only shame is the lack of steel. At this rate, we’ll run out of work in a few days."

"Well... it can't be helped," Ian shrugged.

The dwarf craftsmen had prioritized weapons, specifically spearheads, as they required less material. Helmets came next, for the same reason.

In any case, they worked nonstop, just as they’d promised. They ate and drank like bottomless pits, but they more than earned it.

"So the Archduke really isn’t planning to send supplies," Mev murmured after a brief silence.

Thesaya and Nasser snorted almost in unison.

"I'm more surprised you still had hope, Redhead."

"He considers Sir Ian an enemy. He won’t help you now—or ever."

As Mev hummed quietly, Thesaya set her cup down and stretched. "I’m tired. Maybe it’s the cold. I’m turning in early tonight."

"What did you even do to be already—" Miguel muttered, then fell silent when Thesaya fixed him with a hard stare.

"Why isn't anyone denying it?" she asked the group.

Of course, no one answered. They were all thinking the same thing. Thesaya spent most of her time with the elders, relaying their words to Ian.

Nasser set down his cup. "I’ll step out for a bit."

"Again?" asked Miguel.

As Nasser nodded, Miguel swirled his cup slightly. "How in the world do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Oh, don’t play dumb."

"Whatever the secret is, you can't mimic it, so give up, Prosthetic," Thesaya scoffed.

Miguel’s expression soured. "You didn’t need to say it like that..."

"Anyway, take it easy, Half-Ear. Or one day a blade might come flying at you," Thesaya said, ignoring Miguel.

Nasser smiled. "You’re too harsh, Elder. I haven’t done anything that would get me stabbed."

"You haven’t?"

"I merely offered prayers and spread the teachings of the Radiant Goddess."

Thesaya, Miguel, and even Ian stopped chewing and looked at him.

Miguel was the first to speak. "So you’re saying... all that house-hopping was missionary work?"

"Yes. There are no followers of the Radiant Goddess here, after all."

"Oh, Lu Entre..." Miguel groaned at Nasser's nonchalant reply.

Ian also let out a wry chuckle.

I doubt that’s what they expected when they invited him in.

Then again, Nasser was on a path of atonement. Proselytizing was likely part of that process.

"I knew you weren’t quite right in the head, but this is beyond imagination...." Miguel muttered, lifting his cup.

Thesaya tilted her head slightly. "I owe you an apology, Half-Ear. Sincerely."

"It’s fine, Elder. I was aware it could look that way."

"Now I’m debating whether I should give you a new nickname."

"I would strongly prefer that you didn’t."

As the conversation continued, Ian turned to Mev. "So you knew?"

She hadn't looked surprised at all.

Chewing her food, Mev nodded coolly. "If he’d been doing anything irresponsible, I would’ve stopped him."

"Right. You would have."

Just then, Thesaya suddenly pricked up her ears and turned her head. "Sounds like Snub-Nose is here."

Almost on cue, the door swung open, followed by heavy footsteps. Mukapa appeared still wrapped in his fur cloak, head lowered. He stopped without entering fully.

"Commander Lucas has arrived. He says he must see you at once," said Mukapa.

Ian’s eyes narrowed slightly. The others turned to him with knowing looks as he nodded.

"Show him in."

"Yes."

As Mukapa turned to leave, Thesaya murmured, "Doesn’t sound like he’s here with the Archduke’s reply, does it?"

Ian only shrugged. Moments later, hurried footsteps echoed through the room. Lucas entered, frost clinging to his hooded cloak. He stepped inside, removed his hood, and bowed.

"Forgive the intrusion, Agent of the Saint. I know you were in the middle of a meal, but I couldn’t wait."

"It's fine. Let's get to the point," Ian said readily, lifting his cup.

Lucas hesitated for a fraction of a second before he said, "The front line has been breached, Agent of the Saint."

He looked up, his eyes trembling faintly as he met Ian's gaze. "They say a massive number of monsters are pouring out of the Black Lands."