I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain-Chapter 200

Keeping his sword in place, Ian added, "Explanation?"

"I’ll tell you... everything."

"Good." Ian shoved Luce away and released his grip on his collar, then turned to Philip, who still had his mouth open in surprise.

"You’re responsible for him now. If he endangers your life, I’ll kill him myself. Understand?"

"... You heard him, Father. Stay close behind me at all times." Philip, trying to sound calm, looked at Luce.

Luce, rubbing his neck, nodded vigorously, his head almost falling off. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Glancing fearfully at Ian, Luce added, "Are you really heading to the chapel? With just the two of you—"

Something banged against the door with a thud, making Luce jump and hold his breath. As Ian turned immediately, Philip grabbed Luce by the arm and smiled.

"Don’t worry. Just tell us everything you saw and heard."

Leading Luce forward, Philip continued to smile. "While we walk."

"W-wait, hold on...." As Luce stammered, Ian swung the door open, revealing an undead stumbling from the impact.

Before Luce could even react to the horrifying sight, Ian’s sword mercilessly cut the creature to pieces. It didn’t stop there. Ian incinerated the fallen undead with a fireball from his hand.

Luce, wide-eyed, muttered in disbelief, "Magic...?"

"—It’s just an artifact. Don’t worry about it. Let’s go." Philip quickly interjected and stepped into the corridor. He knew Ian’s temperament well. If the priest hesitated, lagged, or spouted nonsense, Ian would leave him behind without hesitation.

He might even kill him. After all, Ian was the agent of the Platinum Dragon, known for his strict adherence to his mission. Given a good enough reason, he could even behead a bishop.

Fortunately, Luce began to walk on his own. He seemed to realize that staying behind meant certain death. Or perhaps he was simply terrified of Ian.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

"Start explaining, Father Luce," Philip said as they walked. Glancing around nervously, Luce swallowed hard and began to speak quickly.

"Th-there were no signs. Everything was normal. Under Bishop Stephan’s guidance, I assisted Priest Eloy in preparing for the sacrament. Many priests and monks were involved because Lord Westwood planned to hold a banquet in the evening. Then, suddenly, it got dark outside and silence fell. Some priests and the bishop looked around in shock, and then—"

Luce gasped as another door burst open, and an undead covered in mushrooms lunged out. Ian, expecting this, swiftly decapitated the creature. Ignoring the commotion, Philip whispered to Luce.

"Don’t stop talking, Father. From now on, every time you stop talking, I’ll hit you."

"...?!"

"It would be better than getting killed by him." Philip raised his gauntleted fist slightly at Luce’s gaze.

Understanding the threat, Luce nodded and hurriedly continued. "They started running outside. I followed without knowing what was happening. It wasn’t just me. Other priests and monks were running down the hallway, too. Some, like me, were asking what was happening, but some looked very urgent... and shocked..." Luce sobbed, trailing behind Ian as he walked ahead.

Philip had just slashed down another undead emerging from the side, splattering black blood on his face.

"Keep going, Father," Philip urged, his voice steady despite the chaos.

"So...so then..." Luce continued, tears in his eyes. It was a relief that he could still talk; otherwise, he would have likely fainted by now, if he had simply followed them in silence.

***

"Gr...urgh...."

Crack!

A blade sunk deep into the face of a groaning, dismembered undead. The faint purple light spreading from Ian’s black sword turned the mushrooms that were covering the undead’s face pitch black. The writhing fungal growths soon stopped moving.

"Phew...." Ian exhaled and withdrew his sword. Around him lay several dismembered and crushed undead. He had dispatched them all while holding his breath.

As he resumed walking, Ian retracted the chaos energy he had been channeling into the black sword.

Pssst....

The purple light on the blade faded. The purple glow was not the inherent skill of the black sword, the Fangs of Heaven Defier. Using that skill against these creatures would consume too much energy. If fully activated, it would quickly deplete his chaos energy. Fortunately, channeling a bit of chaos energy into the sword produced a similar effect. It was enough to kill the undead.

The black sword hummed softly in his grip, as if dissatisfied.

Greedy, as always.

Ian smirked and scanned the darkness of the corridor. His method for navigating was simple: follow the direction where the void’s power felt strongest.

"... And the next moment, the main doors closed. I ran to the door immediately, but they did not open. After, the screams began to echo through the hall."

From behind, the timid priest’s voice continued without stopping. Unlike Philip, Ian didn’t even glance back. It wasn’t just that he wasn’t interested; the story itself wasn’t particularly surprising to him. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t listening at all. He had no choice but to hear it, even if he didn’t want to.

Thanks to this, Ian discovered that the statue of Della Lu had become corrupted and that the ritual had spontaneously begun, regardless of the defilers’ intentions. Luce testified that the suspected defilers, including the bishop, kneeled and recited blasphemous prayers, sweating profusely.

Of course, that wasn’t everything that Ian learned.

"Those near the altar started collapsing first. That’s when I saw the black mass forming where the statue used to be. Moss and mushrooms began sprouting around it, and darkness enveloped everything. All the lights went out, and only the screams echoed."

Ian also confirmed that the undead he was cutting down were the transformed priests and townspeople who had fled into the church.

"I tried to light a torch, but strangely, the walls of the chapel seemed to stretch further away. When I finally reached them, the screams had stopped. I found a torch and lit it with my flint. … Hell unfolded before my eyes."

Luce’s voice had lost all intonation, as if he was completely absorbed in his memories.

"Everyone was dead. No, not everyone. Those kneeling were still alive, muttering incomprehensible prayers in trembling voices."

"Do you remember any of the phrases?"

"Great cycle... transcendence... shedding... That’s all I can recall. Actually, I only remember very fragmented bits. My eyes were fixed on the darkness atop the altar. It felt like my whole body was decaying just by looking at it... yet I couldn’t look away from the abyss."

Luce swallowed dryly, clutching his chest. He was holding the pouch with the holy relic around his neck.

"It was the holy power that awoke me. That’s when I realized I was only safe because of the Goddess’s grace. But I knew it wouldn’t last forever. And at the next moment, the corpses began to stir… They were reborn as entirely new beings."

Luce looked at the fallen undead Ian had just slain with a haunted expression. His face seemed to have aged rapidly during the recounting.

"I ran away. I don’t remember when I threw the torch or climbed the stairs. I just kept running through the dark corridors, hearing gasping breaths and footsteps all around. When I came to my senses, I was in that closet. I stayed hidden until… you two found me."

And now he was retracing his steps.

Thinking this, Ian turned a corner.

The surroundings were now covered in moss and mushrooms. The number of undead blocking their path had decreased, so Ian spent more time walking than swinging his sword.

"Can you describe what you saw on the altar in more detail?" Philip asked.

Luce, frowning, stammered. "I can’t recall exactly. It was a writhing black... egg. Yes, it felt like an egg. That’s all I remember."

"I see...." Philip nodded and fell silent. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the ensuing stillness.

"How did all this happen... Do you two know by any chance?" Luce finally asked, having reached that thought just now.

Philip responded in a calm voice. "The corrupted were preparing a ritual to curse this land. The priests were at the center, and Lord Westwood was in league with them."

"Lor-lord Westwood...? How could that be...?" Luce stammered, his eyes wide with shock. "But Lord Westwood was always so devout...."

"Wasn’t the bishop as well? What about the other priests?"

"...."

"We exposed Lord Westwood’s true nature in front of the Count. That’s when his corrupted form revealed itself, and the city was plunged into darkness."

"Oh, Lu Solar... So, you two are the knights of the elder elf, the ones who slew the basilisk."

"That would be him, not me. This is Sir… Ivan."

"...." Luce stared blankly at Ian.

Ian didn’t even glance at him, instead swiftly decapitating an approaching undead and then incinerating it with a fireball. The head engulfed in flames made a strangled sound as it burned away.

As Luce swallowed nervously, Philip added, "The ritual probably began then. You witnessed it all unfold right next to you."

"... Is Lord Westwood and the city’s people safe?"

"Some of them are. But if we don’t handle the source of this darkness, there will be more casualties."

"...." Luce was speechless.

For a young monk used to the peace of the western lands, this was an incomprehensible nightmare.

Looking at his unfocused eyes, Philip added, "We will handle the darkness. You must survive and report everything that happened here to the church. You might be the only witness who saw the entire tragedy from start to finish."

"... Will they believe my testimony? I can hardly believe what I’ve seen myself."

"They will believe you."

Philip smiled meaningfully.

"If you survive to the end, I’ll explain why I’m so certain."

"What do you mean?"

"Both of you, be quiet." Ian interrupted.

Both Philip and Luce turned their attention to him as he nodded toward the front.

"We’ve reached the stairs."

"....!"

Philip and Luce both turned their heads forward simultaneously. It was just as he said. The darkness ahead led downward. It was undoubtedly leading to the first floor, but it felt as if a deep abyss was unfolding before them.

Ian turned to look at Luce and asked, "Is the chapel directly below?"

"... Yes, probably. Please be careful. By now, there might be—"

"Do not come down." Ian cut him off and looked at Philip. "Stay at the top of the stairs. No matter what you hear, don’t come down. Guard the priest and hold your position."

"... Understood. If I hear nothing for a while, I’ll follow you down, then."

As Ian nodded, Luce hesitated before finally stammering, "Ar-are you going alone?"

"It’s easier that way."

With his sword hanging at his side, Ian started down the seemingly endless staircase. "Wait here. We’ll make sure you can tell the world what happened here."

Ian stepped onto the stairs, turning his back on the dazed Luce with his mouth agape. Even in the darkness, his footsteps made no sound, likely due to the moss covering the steps.

My Mana is sufficient... and my chaos energy isn’t lacking either...

Ian calmly assessed his condition as he continued downward without stopping. Soon, the end of the staircase came into view, and the surroundings grew dimly lit. The sight of the chapel unfolded before him. The corpses that were supposed to be plentiful were nowhere to be seen. Instead, moss and mushrooms of various colors overran the place.

At the center, the sight of priests kneeling and bowing their bodies became clear. Each had a bulging back, raising their skeletal hands above their heads. They were motionless, as if dead, but the power of the void was distinctly present.

"...." But Ian wasn’t looking at them.

He stared intently at the massive lump on the altar that the priests were worshipping. Up close, it looked more like a pupa than an egg. Inside, the chaos energy writhed as if preparing for a metamorphosis.

The important thing was that the process wasn’t yet complete.

So, before that happens...

As he thought this, Ian dashed forward. His eyes, fixed on the altar, turned violet, and his grip on the black sword tightened.

Pssst—

The haze spreading along the crossguard ignited, dying the blade in a purple hue as it burned.