I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 379

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

"Then..." Lucia's mouth opened slightly as she turned her gaze toward the fortress, following Ian's lead. "Are you saying the monsters are waging war against each other?"

Mutilated corpses lay scattered around the shattered fortress, not a single survivor in sight.

Ian kept walking as he muttered, "It might not be the beasts—it could be the demons waging war among themselves."

It was one of the possibilities he had considered. Unless it resulted from repeatedly making poor choices, no matter how cruel the developers might be, they wouldn't design a situation that was outright impossible from the start. If monsters and demons had thrived unchecked in this place, no way forward would have existed, regardless of the character's strength.

But if they're all too busy fighting each other, it's at least not the worst-case scenario.

Perhaps this latest incursion had triggered the conflict. The call of the Black Wall and the newly expanded territories could have upset the balance between demons and monsters.

Maybe the ripples I caused had some effect as well.

The details didn't matter much.

Ian approached the crumbling fortress. Though corpses lay everywhere, this was only the side of the stronghold. The main gate was likely to the right, where the victorious procession had returned over the ridge.

Of course, there was no reason to go around. Broken and leaning wooden palisades left plenty of gaps for entry.

Ian paused as he stepped through one such gap. A faint metallic clatter came from within. It was subtle, but enough to put Ian instantly on high alert.

Are there any survivors?

His brow furrowed. Yet, there were no sounds of breathing or groaning—none of the typical noises that injured monsters would make.

If anything had survived, it wouldn't be this quiet.

Lucia, who had quietly approached from behind, gently placed her hand on Ian's arm. When he glanced at her, she shrugged and opened her hands as if to ask what was going on.

Judging by her silence, she'd picked up on his tension and kept herself quiet.

—Hmm. This time, I'm curious too.

Yog's languid whisper echoed. It flicked its long tongue once.

—All I can pick up is this disgusting smell.

It wasn't surprising. This creature didn't have a good hearing. Its strengths were its eyesight and sense of smell, neither of which worked well in the overpowering odor here.

Ian raised a hand toward Lucia in a signal to wait before looking down at Yog. When he tilted his head to the side, the creature lazily flicked its tongue again.

–I'd rather just follow you this time... but if you insist.

At the same time, the creature opened its mouth wide, staring at Ian.

Honestly, this little brat.

Even with that thought, Ian gave a slight nod. Yog bit into Ian's finger, drawing a few drops of blood before dissolving into a wisp of smoke that drifted toward Lucia.

Lucia glanced at Yog perched on her shoulder, then at Ian, and nodded silently. Ian turned back toward the collapsed palisade and stepped through cautiously. His movements were deliberate, his footsteps soundless, and not even the faintest clink came from his gear.

The stench inside the fortress was overwhelming. It wasn't just the broken-down huts adorned with decayed monster skulls or the mangled corpses strewn about. Bones, partially gnawed clean, lay scattered among filth and crawling maggots the size of fingers, writhing.

Disgusting bastards, Ian thought, his face twisting in distaste.

Even so, he continued carefully between the huts, keeping his movements slow and quiet.

The settlement was larger than he had expected, almost like a small village. Outside the demonic realm, it might have once been seen as a thriving encampment. Now, however, it bore the scars of a massacre, with nothing left behind but desolation and ruin.

Found you

Ian's ears caught the faint metallic clinking once more. This time, it was unmistakably coming from the largest wooden structure—the chieftain's hut. Though, it was clear the sound wasn't coming from the chieftain.

To Ian, the clattering seemed to be caused by someone searching the interior. Even so, the presence remained incredibly faint. Whoever it was had stealth ingrained into their very being.

What, could it be another scavenger sneaking in?

Carefully making his way between the huts, Ian rested the black sword against his shoulder at an angle. The possibility of another scavenger being around was high. After all, the victory procession that had left earlier had been anything but quiet. It wouldn't be surprising if it had caught the attention of other wandering demonic beasts—or even other drifters hiding nearby.

Ian paused abruptly. The source of the faint presence stepped out of the hut's entrance without making a sound.

His eyes widened at the sight of the figure cloaked in a dark, weathered hooded cape made of leather. Underneath the cloak, boots peeked out.

A person?

The hooded figure turned sharply toward Ian right after, seemingly hearing his sharp intake of breath. Under the hood, a mask carved from wood came into view—its design resembled a beast, perhaps a tiger or a wolf. Through the eyeholes, piercing green eyes glowed.

Just as Ian was observing the figure, the figure was also scrutinizing him. Ian caught the rapid flicker of those green eyes from his face to the black sword angled on his shoulder.

Thump-thump!

And then, in an instant, the beast-masked figure spun around and bolted without hesitation.

What the—

Even as he stood there momentarily dumbfounded, Ian instinctively took off after them. He couldn't let them escape—not when he had just encountered another survivor in the demonic realm.

"Hey! Stop! You've got it all wrong!" Ian shouted, chasing after the masked figure through the encampment.

Of course, the figure didn't stop. If anything, they sped up even more.

How are they so fast?

Ian cast Wind Blade and sprinted at full speed to keep up. He didn't need to think too hard about why the figure was running. They had seen the black sword in his hand. Clearly, they had mistaken him for a corrupted being, a demon, or one of their lackeys.

—What's this? Another human?

Yog's whisper echoed in his mind as the masked figure leaped gracefully over a slanted barricade, gaining distance.

Following closely, Ian vaulted over the barricade as well, his gaze fixed on the figure disappearing into the forest ahead.

That bastard... are they even human?

It didn't seem like the figure was using magic, yet their movements were extraordinary.

Then again, it had been over twenty years since the Black Wall had risen. No one who had survived in this forsaken place for such a long time could be ordinary.

Perhaps the mask and cloak were to hide signs of mutation. But as long as they still had their sanity, that was all that mattered. At the very least, Ian might be able to learn about other survivors—or even gather information about the demonic realm itself.

—Don't stray too far, friend. Otherwise, Lucia won't be able to hear my whispers.

It's not the time for that, Ian thought, brushing off Yog's warning as he followed the masked figure into the forest. The gap between them was slowly closing.

If that speed is because of mutation... maybe there are others who have kept their sanity even after being corrupted or altered—

Ian's train of thought was abruptly cut off as his head tilted sharply to the side.

Whoosh!

A dull, unpolished blade streaked past where his head had been. The figure, their cloak billowing as they ran, had flung a dagger backward with a sudden flick of their arm.

To throw so precisely from that position?

Ian's reflexes—bolstered by points allocated to Agility overtime to keep up with his Strength—and the warning of his Intuition had saved him. Without them, he might have ended up with a dagger embedded in his face.

Either way, you are the one feeling the pressure.

Despite the tension, Ian's lips curled into a faint smirk. The way they had thrown the dagger seemed desperate. Of course, to them, Ian probably looked like a deranged corrupted being wielding a cursed sword, chasing them relentlessly.

Ian finally returned the black sword to his pocket dimension. He couldn't afford any mistakes. Letting the figure escape was unacceptable, but killing them was out of the question.

Tap, tap, tap!

Even as their cloak flapped wildly, the masked figure darted up the mountain path, dodging mutated trees and dense underbrush without missing a step. Their speed rivaled that of a demonic beast, but they couldn't widen the gap with Ian.

A glance over their shoulder revealed the growing fear in their eyes.

Ian called out again, "I'm not corrupted! I have no intention of killing you—"

Before he could finish, he had to dodge again. This time, two daggers flew at him as the figure's cloak billowed.

They don't believe a word I'm saying. Damn it.

Clicking his tongue, Ian picked up speed, adjusting his posture. Every attempt to shake him off only slowed the figure down further. The daggers might have changed the game if they had hit, but unfortunately for them, Ian's Reflexes and Intuition were faster and more precise.

Just then, the masked figure scattered something onto the ground behind them. With a strange sense of foreboding, Ian leaped with all his might.

Boom, boom, boom!

Small explosions erupted beneath his feet.

I figured as much.

Twisting midair, Ian grabbed a branch in front of him and used it to propel himself forward, gaining even more speed. A gust from Wind Blade pushed him further.

Whoosh!

The eyes behind the mask widened in shock as Ian closed the gap once again. Casting Wind Blade a second time, Ian reached out, aiming for the edge of the figure's cloak.

Flap—

The cloak spread wide like a net, lunging straight at Ian. It completely obscured his vision.

Seriously? You've got to be kidding me.

Ian's brow furrowed in irritation.

The purpose of the cloak was clear. Ian had an unsettling suspicion but didn't bother dodging. Instead, he dove straight into the center, twisting his body mid-air.

Swoosh.

Two blades slashed through the edges of the cloak with slight differences in timing and distance. Ian's hands shot out toward the cloak's surface, which was slick and oily, making it hard to grasp.

Thud!

Using his palms to brace against the ground, Ian executed an acrobatic roll, launching himself back into the air. A rush of wind from Wind Blade shoved the cloak aside.

Even as he twisted his body mid-air, Ian's sharp gaze caught sight of the figure behind the mask, now fully visible. The masked figure had turned to look back, revealing their true form. Short, platinum-blond hair fluttered in the air. Beneath the dark leather armor and the straps holding many blades, Ian noticed a slim, clearly feminine figure.

However, what truly captured his attention was the crossbow mounted on her outstretched left arm.

A repeating crossbow?

As if to confirm his observation, her right hand reached for the pulley beside the crossbow. With a sharp mechanical sound, she fired bolts in quick succession, streaking through the air like deadly arrows.

It was more advanced than any crossbow Ian had encountered before. However, the moment he saw it, Ian twisted his body in mid-air to avoid the incoming bolts.

Swoosh!

The three bolts carved slightly different trajectories, narrowly grazing Ian's arm, shoulder, and thigh in quick succession.

Still airborne, Ian's gaze locked onto the rapidly approaching masked figure. The striking green eyes behind the wooden mask held a look of shock.

Shouldn't I be the one more surprised here? You started this mess.

Suppressing the urge to strike, Ian reached out with his right arm. He briefly considered knocking her mask off with a blow, but decided against it.

Thunk—

Instead, he grabbed her left arm, the one holding the crossbow, and yanked it toward himself with all his strength. The sudden pull caused her upper body to whip backward toward him.

Crash.

At the same time, Ian's left fist drove into her ribs, drawing a muffled groan from beneath the mask.

"Urgh—"

The two of them then tumbled to the ground in a chaotic heap.

Clatter, crash!

The masked figure didn't surrender easily. Curling her back instinctively, she twisted and drew a dagger from her waist with her right hand in a reverse grip, aiming to stab Ian's arm. It was purely a reflexive move. However, Ian, fully aware of every detail, moved just as decisively.

Thwack!

Ian reached out with his left hand, grabbing the arm holding the dagger. At the same time, he bent one leg, pressing his knee firmly against her abdomen.

The green eyes behind the mask widened as if realizing his intent. Twisting his body mid-air, Ian pressed down with all his strength, using his arms and a knee.

Thud—crunch!

Her body slid across the ground as if carving a path until she finally stopped beneath a tree trunk.

Pinned with both arms restrained and Ian's knee digging into her abdomen, she struggled fiercely, refusing to give in.

"Urgh!"

She thrashed desperately, trying to break free from Ian's grip, still clinging to the dagger in her right hand. Her struggle revealed her pointed ears, hidden beneath her hair, and the mask's straps.

Figures. Of course, it had to be a damn fairy.

Still, no matter how strong a fairy might be, there was no way she could overpower Ian.

"Fuck." A muffled groan escaped from beneath the mask as Ian finally forced her arms above her head, locking them in place.

Pressing his knee more firmly into her abdomen, he leaned in and met her gaze. "Let's cut the bullshit and have a proper conversation, shall we?"