I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 380

"Conversation?"

A muffled voice came from behind the mask, its tone surprisingly low for a fairy. Ian, still pinning her arms, allowed a slight smirk to tug at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah. Conversation."

"Fine. Let's have a conversation. As long as you let me live." Locking eyes with Ian, the fairy replied.

She closed her eyes, exhaling as if in surrender. The tension in her arms loosened slightly, and in response, Ian relaxed his grip just enough.

"Let's start with introductions. What's your name?"

"My name is—" She paused as if to catch her breath, then suddenly snapped her eyes open and yelled, "Eat shit, you beastfolk-like bastard—!"

Her stormy gray eyes glinted with defiance as blue lightning crackled from her hands, spreading outward like wildfire. Closing her eyes earlier had been a ploy to conceal the glow of her gathering magic.

However, she had no way of knowing what was happening to Ian. His gaze, locked on to her, now gleamed with an unsettling light.

Thrum—

Magic surged from Ian's grip on her arm, disrupting her spell entirely. It wasn't just a simple dispel; the energy within her veins was forcibly reversed, turning against her.

"Urk?"

A choked gasp escaped her lips as the magic collapsed in on itself. Seizing the moment, Ian released her arm and lifted his knee from her abdomen, rolling her onto her side. He twisted her left arm behind her back and pressed her down with his knee squarely in the center of her lower back.

With a swift motion, he knocked the dagger from her grip before securing her right arm and twisting it back as well.

Leaning in close, Ian whispered in a calm, almost taunting voice, "It's called Magic Backflow."

He had expected this the moment he realized she was a fairy—and especially after her seemingly cooperative response. If anything, encountering a fairy as his first survivor was a stroke of luck. Arrogant liars, sure, but they were also notoriously fragile cowards who tossed aside pride and loyalty when faced with danger. Besides, she had been the one to attack first, so there was no need to feel guilty.

With one hand holding her crossed wrists securely, Ian reached into his pocket dimension with the other.

"A... spellcaster?" the fairy wheezed, her voice rasping as she finally regained her breath.

She turned her head slightly, pressing one side of her mask into the ground. Her green eyes, visible through the mask's eyeholes, burned with a mixture of contempt, anger, and a hint of fear.

"Nope. It's a magic tool." Ian replied.

He then pulled a long leather strap from his pocket dimension. He had used it before to store daggers and throwing knives, though he had stashed it away for lack of use in the North.

Sliding the strap between her crossed wrists, he muttered, "How did Charlotte do this again?"

Despite his words, his movements were precise and practiced, quickly binding her wrists with just one hand.

"You... fucking...!" The fairy grunted, thrashing her limbs to escape. But it was no use. Ian's grip on her wrists was unyielding, leaving her completely subdued, even more so than before.

Without pausing, Ian continued his work, his voice calm and unbothered as he added, "Keep squirming, and you'll just hurt your arms more."

"Damn it, what kind of game are you playing, corrupted one?"

"I'm not corrupted," Ian replied.

The fairy let out a low scoff from behind her mask. "Sure. Then how do you explain that cursed sword you were carrying? Or your inhuman strength and speed?"

So, this is what Yog feels like.

Ian clicked his tongue dismissively. Perhaps this was the penalty for being a corrupted character in the game—while environmental drawbacks did not affect them, they probably couldn't expect any help or support from other survivors, especially once their identity was revealed.

"Is this a wanderers' new form of entertainment? Seems like they need a living toy now."

Clearing up the misunderstanding seemed nearly impossible for now. Typical of a fairy—paranoia personified. Then again, it wasn't entirely a misunderstanding, either.

Tightening the strap binding her wrists, Ian asked, "Wanderers? Is that what you call the ones who wrecked that lair?"

"Stop pretending you don't know," she snapped.

"If you want to live, I suggest you use your mouth to talk. Might even give you a sliver of hope." With that, Ian pulled out another leather strap and threaded it between her crossed wrists, leaving enough length to drape it over her neck.

The fairy, who had stubbornly kept her mouth shut, finally spoke as the strap brushed beneath her chin. "Fine. That's what they are called."

"And why's that?"

"You should know better than anyone, considering what kind of lunatic your master is."

It seemed the fairy had mistaken him for one of the lackeys from the victory procession they had seen yesterday. Ian tugged the strap tighter, letting it press against her throat.

She gasped, her voice spilling out quickly. "Damn it! It’s the necromancer bastard! Even before he turned corrupt, he was obsessed with wandering every corner of this land. And now he's doing exactly that, dragging his puppets along. That's why we call them the wanderers!"

Talkative when her neck is on the line, Ian thought with a chuckle.

He eased the strap slightly, looping it back through her bound wrists. It wasn't tight enough to strangle her, but any sharp movement would bring it close enough to cut off her air.

"Are there others like him? More corrupted ones besides the demons?"

"Yeah. I don't know how many or how long they've lasted, but there are more," she muttered, her head drooping slightly.

Ian gave her back a light pat, signaling her to keep going. Then he released her wrists and straightened, though his knee remained firmly pressed against her waist.

"So, you want me to spill everything I know about the corrupted ones, is that it?"

"Keep it simple. Stick to the key points."

"Fine. So, that lunatic finally changed things up? Guess he got bored with wandering. Makes sense why he'd come back and raid that roach-infested lair. Must've gathered up a bunch of wraiths to—" Her words trailed off as Ian drew a blade from where it had been strapped diagonally across her back.

"Questions are mine to ask. Answers are yours to give." Speaking calmly, Ian looked down at the short sword in his hand. The blade was slightly shorter than a typical longsword, but the end of the blade thickened in reverse and curved slightly forward.

It seemed like a weapon more specialized for slashing, though it was still well-suited for thrusting. He could even check its information: Short Sword of the Deep Forest Scout. It was a unique grade weapon. Its attack power and durability were high compared to its weight, and it came with not only a built-in bleeding effect but also poison, a level four Paralyzing Venom.

"You're using a fine blade."

If she had drawn this, the situation would've gotten much bloodier.

Ian casually tossed the sword onto the ground nearby and immediately dismantled the repeating crossbow strapped to the fairy's left arm with brute force.

Relieved she wasn't about to be killed, the tense fairy let out a long sigh.

"There are those lunatics who enjoy feasting on human flesh. And others—deranged pilgrims who still think they're human priests. Then there's that den of spellcasters, obsessed with researching void magic close to here, or so I've heard..." The fairy trailed off mid-sentence as Ian tugged her arm, forcing her to kneel.

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The downward pull on her bound arms tilted her head slightly upward. Her green eyes glared at Ian's face as he crouched in front of her.

"Dammit. I can only explain it like this. It's not like I'm getting these stories straight from the source. I can only spy from a distance or pick up scattered rumors—"

"No need for excuses. I'm listening," Ian cut her off, reaching toward her. Realizing his hand was moving toward her body, the fairy flinched, scooting back on her knees.

"Want me to tie your legs too?" Ian asked casually.

"You fucking... Dirty bastard," the fairy clenched her eyes shut, muttering under her breath.

It wasn't long before her eyelids fluttered open again. Her expression twisted differently this time—she had realized Ian was pulling out daggers, one by one, from the leather straps on her body.

When their eyes met, Ian smirked, the corner of his mouth curling upward. "Seems like the filth is in your mind."

Ian continued removing the blades, tossing them next to the short sword and crossbow. The knives strapped to her thighs followed suit. Though the weapons weren't particularly durable—likely not made of high-grade steel—they were coated with various poisons, potent enough to affect even him.

A walking armory, huh? And a fairy scout, of all things.

He had never seen this kind of fairy before, except for the swamp fairies from the outskirts. The fairies on the continent usually armored themselves in full plate and paraded as knights, a display of their vanity and pride.

Ian, however, already knew that it was also because they were inherently fearful.

Perhaps this fairy's preference for carrying many blades was similar. Blades were far more practical than plate armor for survival in this cursed land.

"Your mouth's gone quiet," Ian commented, pulling out another blade hidden in her boots.

After a moment's hesitation, the fairy spoke in a subdued voice. "I don't know much about the corrupted ones. I only care about the ones nearby. They're no different from demons, anyway..."

"Is that so?" Ian reached toward her face.

Startled, the fairy blinked and tilted her head back. "N-no, you can't."

"Sure, I can. What's the matter? Hiding the face of a dark fairy, are we?"

"W-What?" Her expression scrunched into a scowl. "Don't spew such crap, you honorless corrup—"

Ian cut her off by grabbing her face. She tried to shake him off, but his hand didn't budge. Calmly, Ian began unfastening the straps securing her mask.

"Fucking..."

When he finally removed the mask, the fairy's face was revealed—a typical beauty by fairy standards, though haggard and pale from malnourishment. It was clear she wasn't a dark fairy.

"So it's just a magic tool.."

However, Ian paid her face no further attention, instead examining the wooden mask in his hand, a Mask of the Forest Sentinel. Despite being made of wood, its durability and defensive properties were remarkable. Most notably, it came with multiple options that enhanced resistance and recovery speed.

"Did you craft this from the Tree of Life?"

"Yes." Even as the fairy frowned, she answered with a look that seemed to ask how he had figured it out. Her nose kept twitching as if she had just drunk poison.

So, she was practically wearing it like a gas mask.

Ian chuckled lightly and tossed the mask among the weapons. Either way, it wasn't good enough to replace the Black Crown of the Dark Elder Fairy.

"It's nice to talk face-to-face. Now, let's move on from the corrupted ones..." With a smirk, Ian looked the fairy in the eye and casually added, "To the part where you mentioned we."

The fairy's eyes narrowed almost immediately. Gone was the twitching nose, replaced by an icy glare directed at Ian.

Unfazed, he continued, "Don't even think about lying. I already know there are other survivors besides you."

It was a natural conclusion based on the details of her story. Not only were there other survivors, but there also seemed to be a place where they gathered.

"So that's your real goal, huh," the fairy finally spat, curling one corner of her lips upward. "But you won't learn a thing, you corrupted one. Not a single thing."

"Oh, really?" Ian answered indifferently, extending his right hand to the side.

At the same time, he grabbed a black sword from the pocket dimension and drew it out. The fairy, glancing at the jet-black blade that had suddenly appeared in midair, froze, holding her breath. It was because Ian had lowered the blade right beside her neck.

"How about now?"

The fairy stared at the ominously dark blade resting against her neck, her face pale. The sinister vibrations of the sword seemed to reverberate through her collarbone. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

However, her hesitation didn't last long. Swallowing hard, she locked eyes with Ian once more. "Kill me, you bastard."

"Oh?" Ian let out a genuine sound of admiration at the resolute look in her eyes.

He realized this fairy had truly steeled herself for death. A fairy with such loyalty was a miracle to encounter in the demonic realm.

Then again, there were always exceptions to everything. He already knew of such an exceptional being—a silver-haired fairy who had risen to the rank of elder from being a demon.

"Impressive." Ian withdrew the blade, planting it into the ground beside him as he dusted off his hands.

"Phew... Phew..." As if a spell had been broken, the fairy exhaled in ragged breaths. Though the leather strap around her neck still choked her slightly, it seemed she no longer cared.

"Cigarettes." It was then that Ian, seated cross-legged before her, casually muttered.

The fairy shifted her eyes to look at him.

Ian added, "The ones you lot are always smoking. Where did you hide them?"

"You're talking nonsense." The corners of the fairy's lips curled upward. "Look around. How could I possibly get Southern herbs here? If I could have, I would've—"

"Then I guess I'll have to share mine."

"—risked my life. ... What?" The fairy's eyes widened instantly, her expression one of disbelief.

As she stared at him with those green eyes, Ian smiled. "Let's share one. To clear up the misunderstandings between us."