I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 685

No way.

As the fading flash dissolved into the clouds, Ian instinctively pulled his hood lower and glanced down at his right hand.

Rumble, crash—

The distant thunder rolled through the air a few seconds later. Almost at the same time, a quiet breath of relief slipped from his lips.

We’re not too late.

No visions appeared, no quest windows popped up. Yog, which had been asleep since daybreak, showed no sign of stirring. That alone told him enough—Calbrook was not yet under attack, and Akihatara’s domain had not reached the city.

But it's definitely expanding its domain.

Loosening his grip on the reins, Ian narrowed his eyes slightly. The reason Akihatara had yet to reach Calbrook was likely because it was advancing while expanding its domain.

Among the archdemons, Akihatara was infamous for possessing the widest territory and the greatest number of vassals. Naturally, the speed at which it expanded its domain was fast.

And because of that, the vassals that would eventually reach Calbrook would be formidable, little different from those of the Black Lands. Perhaps Akihatara itself remained just as powerful. Unlike Bukikia, it would not need to exhaust its power to sustain its vassals.

"Lead! Walk faster!"

"Rest after crossing this mountain!"

"Advance—"

A sudden stir rippled through the procession. Centurions barked encouragement, and the warriors answered with hoarse roars of their own.

Watching the scene, Ian let out a faint chuckle.

Looks like no one noticed that.

That was hardly surprising. No one had the spare awareness to dwell on ominous signs right now—least of all the garrison soldiers marching without full armament among the warriors.

Even with the brazier’s blessing, they were clearly at their limits, moving less like living men than walking corpses.

The pace needed adjusting. That was why Ian had accepted Thesaya’s request without objection.

"Just a little more! Once we crest this mountain, it won’t be long!"

"The other side’s high ground—it’s mostly downhill!"

"Just watch the back in front of you! Help anyone who looks like they’re struggling!"

Shouts large and small rang out from all directions, and the pace of the march noticeably quickened. Here and there, warriors could be seen supporting exhausted defense troops as they pressed onward.

Camaraderie really is forged through shared suffering.

Mixing the units during the march had been Mev’s idea, and it was working exactly as she had intended.

—To wake up feeling this disgusting every time...

The low mutter echoed through Ian’s mind several hours later, once night had fully fallen. The road, which had been relatively level until now, had begun to slope gently downward again.

Crunch— crunch—

Snow continued to fall, yet the surroundings felt unusually dark. Sacred flame torches flickered throughout the procession, their light swallowed quickly by the night. The mobile brazier wagons rolling behind them likely contributed to the shifting shadows as well.

—It’s faint, but I can smell chaos now, my friend. Looks like we’re heading the right way.

Nodding at Yog’s whisper, Ian looked toward the procession as he suddenly heard hoofbeats drawing near. Once again, it was Moro—but this time, the one in the saddle was Sir Phaden.

Thesaya had succeeded in switching places after all.

So that’s why it’s been quiet.

"Sir, what is the matter?" asked Ian, curling up the corners of his mouth.

So that was why it was quiet.

Phaden came up beside him in silence, covering his mouth with his hand as he whispered, "Her Highness is asking for you, Agent of the Saint."

"So, news has arrived from the capital." Ian’s faint smile deepened slightly.

Yog’s quiet laughter brushed his mind.

Phaden nodded, concern and unease lingering clearly in his eyes. "Yes."

Ian pulled lightly on the reins. "Let’s go."

Nila turned smoothly, casting Moro a warning glance as if daring it to come any closer. Moro, long accustomed to such treatment, kept its distance as it followed.

Crunch— Crunch—

The marching soldiers paid Ian no attention as he angled away from the procession. It was clear everyone was full of thoughts of leaving this place and resting before the night deepened.

"Agent of the Saint, could you try persuading Lady Sonnier one more time?" Phaden’s whisper came as they began moving fully against the flow of the procession. He had switched to her alias, clearly mindful of the soldiers around them—though they probably weren’t paying attention.

"You mean convincing her to take shelter at the Temple of the Brazier?" Ian asked, glancing briefly toward Mev across the formation. Part of him wondered if this was bait Thesaya had dangled in front of Phaden.

"Yes, please," Phaden answered without hesitation. This wasn’t fear for his own life. He truly cared for her.

"Well, I’ll try bringing it up one more time."

That was why Ian nodded so easily.

"Thank you, Agent of the Saint."

"But she won’t listen. You know as well as I do what she stands to gain if she makes it through this battle safely."

Phaden let out a quiet, weary sigh.

Princes roaming the battlefield was one of the ways they proved their worth as future emperors. If Seras returned unharmed from this campaign, she too would earn the right to stand among them. And with an archdemon involved, she might even be evaluated more favorably than most.

"Do you want her to inherit the family?" Phaden asked just as Ian exchanged a brief nod with Miguel, who sat on the driver’s bench of the brazier wagon.

"Well...." Ian trailed off, his gaze settling on the carriage carrying the princess’s group.

After tugging the reins and turning Nila back alongside it, he added, "I don’t really care who it is. But if I had to choose, I’d say I lean more toward Lady Sonnier than the Third Master."

"Oh, Lu Solar...." Phaden let out a low, helpless lament as Nila paced alongside the carriage.

At the very least, it was clear he harbored no ambition of placing Seras on the throne.

"You’re here, my lord."

Ian tipped his chin toward Nasser, who greeted him blandly from the driver’s seat. Nasser appeared relatively calm, no doubt thanks to riding directly behind the brazier.

"I’ll leave Nila with you for a moment."

Walking beside the carriage was Alex, Phaden’s new squire. His hooded cloak was barely damp, as if he had only just come outside. When Ian held out Nila’s reins, Alex stepped forward at once and accepted them with a respectful bow.

Clack—

Ian reached out and opened the carriage door.

Inside, the interior was refined and orderly, with facing seats and fur rugs spread across the floor. Asme, seated closest to the door, dipped her head slightly.

"You’ve arrived, Agent of the Saint. Please, come in."

By the window sat Seras, smiling softly with a pewter cup in hand.

Across from her was Thesaya, her hood removed and thick silver hair fully revealed. She greeted Ian with a smile and lifted her cup in acknowledgment.

"Excuse me."

Swallowing a snort, Ian stepped inside. The facing seats were wide enough to seat six comfortably, and with people seated on the floor, the carriage could carry nearly eight without difficulty.

Clack—

Ian shut the door at once and took the seat beside Thesaya. With Moro walking alongside Nila, Phaden had no way of climbing in—and judging by his expression, he was far too lost in thought to consider it.

"You’re soaked. You really have been through quite a lot," Seras said gently.

The carriage interior was softly lit and utterly quiet, no doubt thanks to the spell circuits etched into the ceiling. Even to Ian’s ears, the noise of the march outside had vanished completely.

—Finally starting to feel better now.

Yog chuckled to itself as Seras added, almost admiringly, "Even the elite troops of the Central wouldn't be able to march this fast without rest."

"It’s thanks to the blessing of the Blazing Goddess," Ian replied as he removed his hood.

He accepted the pewter cup Asme offered him. The wine inside carried a deep, rich aroma.

Brushing damp hair back from his forehead, he continued, "Let’s get to the main point. I heard new information arrived from the capital."

"Yes, just a moment ago." Seras's voice sank.

Thesaya quietly raised her cup to her lips, watching Seras with open interest.

As Ian raised his cup, Seras said, "His Holiness the Pope has made a proposal to my father. He suggested accepting my uncle and the survivors of the Black Lands into Imperial territory."

"You mean letting them inside?" Ian arched an eyebrow.

Seras swallowed and nodded. "He said that since they are subjects of the Empire and members of the great expedition, accepting them would be an act of providence. He proposed clearing Borow City on the Eastern Front and confining them there. Their corruption would be judged afterward."

"So he’s trying to dodge responsibility for the martyrdom expedition," Ian murmured and let out a chuckle.

Seras gave a bitter smile as she stared into her cup. "Probably. I doubt he truly intends to accept them back. Contrary to the Radiant Goddess’s teachings, the Great Church’s inquisitors have neither mercy nor sympathy. In some ways, they’re worse than the Purifiers. So, in the end, most of them would probably be executed."

Ian drank slowly and nodded. It was a decision that bought time while securing both justification and advantage. Hyked would resist, of course, but once they were branded as corrupted, nothing would stop the process.

"Did His Majesty accept that proposal?" Thesaya asked with eyes full of vitality, as if she hadn't been dying moments ago.

"I’m told he’s remaining silent."

"As expected...." Thesaya curled her lips knowingly and took a sip of her wine.

Watching her, Seras’s eyes narrowed slightly. "You seem to think Father will eventually refuse."

"Of course, Your Highness."

"May I ask why you think so?" Seras asked almost immediately.

"His Majesty was compared to Prince Hyked all his life. I doubt His Majesty would want to treat him as a returning hero, even for a moment. ...Much like how the Archduke grinds his teeth at the Agent of the Saint."

Thesaya flicked a glance at Ian beside her, smiling faintly with her eyes, before turning back to Seras.

"Besides, everyone will know the scale of survivors following him. Even if they’re ultimately branded as corrupt, it will leave a powerful impression."

Thesaya's lips curled up meaningfully.

"Some may feel gratitude toward His Highness. Others may lament his fall. His Majesty would not tolerate even the slightest chance of that happening."

"Inferiority and hatred are emotions not easily suppressed by reason," Ian added.

Thesaya turned to him and smiled in agreement.

Seras let out a low groan and raised her cup to her lips. Ian watched her in silence. Though his reasoning differed slightly, he, too, believed the Emperor would never accept the proposal.

"If Father does so... the situation will flow in a far more unfavorable direction," Seras murmured with a sigh.

Ian simply nodded.

Not only would the Great Church be escaping responsibility for the civil war, but it would also hand the nobles a ready justification for rebellion. The consequences would not surface immediately, but the weakening of royal authority would accelerate all the same.

Perhaps that had been the Pope’s aim from the beginning. After all, he would not be operating under the assumption that the capital itself might one day collapse.

"In the worst case, the Empire could truly split in two," Thesaya said lightly, as though the thought had just occurred to her.

There was no worry in her tone. If anything, Ian sensed a trace of anticipation.

Whether it stemmed from fairy instinct, her demonic blood, or simple sympathy for Hyked was unclear. Thesaya had never bothered to hide her disdain for the Round Table Parliament.

Perhaps the Round Table wants that outcome as well.

The thought crossed Ian’s mind, but he gave no sign of it, merely taking another sip of wine.

Seras said nothing, her expression stiff as she drank again. It seemed the weight of choosing the future she had foreseen was finally pressing down on her.

Lowering her cup at last, Seras said, "What do you think, Agent of the Saint? Should I ask my brother to persuade Father? Or would it be better to remain silent and wait, as I have been doing?"

"Well, I don’t know," Ian answered bluntly.

"Pardon?" Seras blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Ian let out a chuckle. "That’s a decision you must make yourself, Your Highness. As I told you before, I have no desire to interfere in matters of the royal family."

"I know that, but—"

"And besides, we’re on the eve of battle. To burden someone responsible for an entire legion with matters of the royal family, your greed is excessive."

Seras stared at him for a moment, at a loss for words, then lowered her head. "You’re right. I’m ashamed. For someone who’s only sitting safely in the rear, that was thoughtless of me."

At least she admits it quickly.

Ian gave a small shrug. "Though, to be fair, it may not be an urgent decision."

Seras looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly.

Ian raised his cup again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Before that, Prince Hyked might cross the front line first, no?"

"Ah." Only then did Seras let out a quiet exclamation.

Ian took a sip and calmly asked, "No news from the Eastern Front?"