I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 353

The searing heat surging through his entire body came the moment Ian laid eyes on the fortress crumbling into ruin. After letting out a roar that was almost a scream, Ian's head drooped forward.

"Phew." Yet even in his exhaled sigh, a fiery intensity lingered. The crimson divinity enveloping his body continued to blaze, no longer oppressive but rather a warmth that felt almost refreshing.

"For the Great Warrior!"

"The battlefield awaits—"

The legionnaires' shouts still shook the air, their fervent cries burning hot as they echoed around him. Amid the roars that felt like they were pushing him forward, Ian thought he could hear Kartha's laughter. It was almost as if Karha was asking him if he was satisfied now.

Yeah. Thanks a damn lot.

Reaching into his pocket dimension, Ian retrieved a faerie cigarette and placed it between his lips. A flicker of flame ignited in his hand to light it, which he extinguished with a quick flick before it could grow larger. He raised his head as he drew in the smoke, his gaze sweeping over the blazing wreckage of the fortress and the partially collapsed wall in the distance.

The sight of streaks falling from the sky, painting the heavens in shades of violet, flashed through his mind.

Summoning a meteor shower, huh?

Each fragment must not have been too large—if they had been, the destruction would have been far worse. They were likely shards or remnants of celestial bodies pulled from the void, fragments Ian had occasionally glimpsed in his visions.

Despite this, its impact on the world was comparable to a nuclear bomb. The void spell that had summoned it had been on the verge of transcendence.

Maybe defending the fortress completely was never possible to begin with. That must be why three quests had appeared.

With that thought, Ian exhaled a puff of smoke and turned his head.

"Unending battle!"

"O Superhuman of the North!"

The legion, wrapped in crimson divinity, roared as one. This resulted from Ian's battle cry—no, his very roar.

The Blessing of Battle had descended upon the entire legion, except for a select few, like the priests. Since the order to charge hadn't yet been given, the legionnaires vented their rising heat and fighting spirit through their cries.

The Blessing of Battle bestowed upon Ian might have been stronger, but in essence, it was no different. Particularly in how it would drastically enhance combat abilities.

"Oooooooh!"

Moreover, the elation felt by the legionnaires was transmitted to Ian as well—a sensation as though each blessed soldier had become one of his own vassals.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he had never experienced before. Whether it resulted from uniting the warriors under his command or a newfound power stemming from the expanded markings on his left arm, he couldn't be sure.

Ian's gaze narrowed slightly as it shifted to the center of the camp, where the sacred flame blazed brilliantly.

At that rate, the brazier might melt.

The intense flames were the result of the priests having packed the brazier full of wood along the way. In any case, the effect was undeniable. The blessing that burned like an ember within Ian had grown even hotter. For the priests, it was likely even more intense.

Lucia, standing with her back to the brazier, had eyes that flickered like flames under her hood. The same was true for the other priests. Their skin seemed to glow faintly, as though embers were burning beneath it.

It seemed likely to take a toll on their bodies, but under the influence of the sacred flame, they were no different from apostles.

Miguel, seated in the driver's seat, gave Ian a nod. It was his way of signaling readiness to proceed. The sacred flame had to remain at the center of the formation at all times, serving as the focal point to keep the legion united.

There was no one more suited to the task of transporting the brazier than Miguel, a seasoned guide and driver.

Ian gave a small nod in acknowledgment and cast his gaze toward the cavalry gathered around the carriage.

"Prepare to charge." His voice, imbued with divine resonance, hummed through the air.

The cavalry, who had been watching Ian intently since he turned to face them, immediately shifted their poleaxes beneath their arms in unison. The red divinity burning within their eyes and bodies didn't waver—it roared like an unyielding flame.

Don't rush it, Ian thought. Soon enough, even if exhaustion threatens to consume you, you won't be able to stop fighting.

With that, he turned his gaze forward again.

"Grrraaaahk!"

"Screech!"

In the distance, piercing red eyes flooded through the wreckage of the fortress and the shattered walls.

"Phew." Exhaling smoke from his cigarette, Ian placed a foot in the stirrup and rose to his feet.

As Nila snorted, he extended his right hand to the side, reaching into his pocket dimension. His hand, gripping a massive hilt, emerged.

Swish!

A colossal greatsword with a slightly upward-curved tip revealed itself. Nila didn't falter. Instead, the warhorse straightened its posture, emitting another sharp breath, while the magic stones embedded in its armor glowed even brighter.

Ian lifted the greatsword overhead with one hand. Thanks to the Blessing of Battle, it felt lighter than it should, almost like a dagger.

Fwoosh!

White flames ignited along the blade, spreading to its tip in an instant—White Blaze. As if responding to a signal, the legionnaires' roaring subsided.

Clatter, clatter.

The cavalry formed ranks on either side of Ian. Their red divinity dimmed slightly, reined in as they leveled their poleaxes.

"Grrrraaahk!"

"Keekeeeek!"

The howls of the beasts charging headlong toward them grew louder. Although separated by a distance, Ian could distinguish the creatures' scorched remains, their glowing red eyes radiating insanity.

As Ian met their gazes, his mind became as clear as ice, his thoughts sharp and precise. His Intuition and Concentration heightened, and his senses sharpened as though a veil had been lifted. At the same time, the presence of each legionnaire under his command became vividly apparent to him.

Biting down on his cigarette with his teeth, Ian muttered, "I'll clear the way."

There was no need to shout. The legionnaires blessed through him would hear it as if he were standing right beside them.

As Nila, seemingly excited, let out a huff of breath, Ian extended the Legion Commander's Greatsword.

"Charge," ordered Ian.

Nila surged forward as if it had been waiting for that command.

"For the Great Warrior!"

"Charge—don't stop!"

The cavalry flanking Ian roared with all their might as they followed close behind.

"Charge!"

The legionnaires, led by their centurions, broke into a full gallop, charging as one unstoppable wave. The blazing sacred flame illuminated their path forward.

***

"Fire! Keep firing, don't stop!"

"Pour everything we've got left! Don't let those monsters break through!"

The commanders shouted, their voices brimming with authority despite their dust and blood-streaked faces.

"Release!"

"Reload—"

"Bring more arrows, quickly! If there aren't any left, grab some from the others!"

The same determination burned in the soldiers, including the ballista operators. They worked relentlessly, striking down as many monsters as they could as they gathered below the walls.

"Aim for the head! Go for their heads!"

Most of the swift beasts had already charged ahead, leaving the area near the walls dominated by larger monsters: cyclopes, ogres, trolls, minotaurs, and grotesquely mutated creatures whose original forms were unrecognizable.

These were the type of enemies the soldiers preferred—big, slow, and easy to hit.

Moreover, the wave of monsters had visibly decreased. Though more figures emerged from the fog of the battlefield, they no longer surged forward in the overwhelming numbers they had at the start.

"Karha—"

"For eternal battle!"

And most importantly, the cries echoing from beyond the walls bolstered the defenders with courage and hope.

"Commander! They're breaking through!" One of the supply soldiers, who had been hauling crates of materials to the rear, shouted urgently.

Lucas snapped his head around. "Don't stop firing! Keep at it!"

Shouting orders, he signaled his lieutenant with a sharp glance before sprinting to the rear. It didn't take long to see what the supply soldier had spotted.

Beyond the remnants of the fortress and the shattered siege engines lay a scene straight out of madness.

"Screech!"

"Kraah! Keek—"

A crimson wave, sharp as an arrowhead, was tearing through the horde of monsters, splitting them in two. It looked as though they were charging against the current of a raging torrent.

A mounted charge directly into a pack of charging beasts was a reckless move that no sane person would attempt.

"Oh, Karha."

Yet, they were making it work.

It was possible only because of the blazing crimson divinity and the figure at the tip of the arrowhead—the Great Warrior of the North.

Crack! Slash!

Riding a dazzling white horse, Ian carved endless trails of white light as his massive greatsword cleaved through the monsters.

Even from this distance, the size of the sword was clear—it was enormous. Yet Ian, standing on his stirrups, swung it as though it weighed nothing at all.

To Lucas, it looked as if the arcs of light from the greatsword were physically shooting forward.

It's not an illusion. It really is being projected.

Moreover, the white horse Ian rode showed no signs of faltering or collapsing. Though its speed was gradually decreasing, it kept its head stretched forward and pressed on without stopping.

Lucas had no way of knowing that Ian was supporting the horse with gray magic while maintaining its balance and stability through the careful control of his weight with both legs.

"Is that the Dragon Slayer?" A soldier standing nearby murmured in a dazed voice.

Lucas silently nodded in agreement. In truth, this was his first time witnessing Ian Hope in combat as well. And the sight before him was far more incredible than anything Lucas had ever imagined.

Now, he fully understood why General Gelud and the surviving defenders of Bellium Fortress referred to Ian Hope as the reincarnation of Karha. Even the grand murals adorning the cathedral ceilings failed to fully capture the essence of his presence.

Crunch—

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Of course, the barbarian cavalry flanking him were equally impressive.

The warhorses carrying them occasionally stumbled or fell, but the remaining riders quickly filled the gaps without breaking formation. Even the fallen warriors rose without hesitation, rolling to their feet and swinging their weapons as they charged back into the fray.

Whoosh—

Some had discarded their poleaxes in favor of swords, slashing through the beasts with blades that scattered bright orange sparks, much like Lucas's own weapon.

Such feats were only possible because they, too, were blessed by Kartha.

"Charge—"

"Don't stop!"

The arrowhead formation, with Ian Hope at its center, pressed forward without hesitation, slicing through the torrent of monsters like a blade splitting a raging current. Yet, despite dividing the monstrous horde, they never found themselves surrounded by the creatures they had parted, because a crimson tide surged forward behind the arrowhead.

"Charge—!"

"Follow the Great Warrior!"

"To a glorious death!"

The heavily armored warriors met the monster horde head-on without flinching. Despite their ferocity, the monsters failed to break through. Instead, they were the ones being torn apart and slaughtered. The crimson legionnaires surged forward, cutting and hacking the beasts to pieces.

Perhaps this is what Kartha's legion would look like if it ever manifested.

The scene didn't come across as gruesome—quite the opposite. Intense, radiant light bathed the legion, making their advance appear almost divine.

The light emanated from the sacred flame burning at the center of the formation's vanguard. Though the brazier itself seemed modest in size, the flame roared upward like a fiery pillar, illuminating the battlefield.

What those atop the wall couldn't know was that the light and heat were bolstering the legionnaires' strength while simultaneously weakening the beasts.

Woosh!

Lucas's eyes widened as a sudden surge of flames erupted.

The fire came from a priest standing near the brazier. Though small, her presence was overwhelming as orange flames flared over her hooded cloak, flickering and crackling.

"Screech!"

The monsters caught in the flames shrieked as they were consumed, their forms disappearing into the legion's ranks. Yet the flames seemed to leave the legionnaires untouched, allowing them to charge forward without hesitation.

The Saintess of the Brazier, no, that future Saintess from back then!

Lucas gasped as he caught sight of her glowing eyes beneath the hood.

On closer inspection, she wasn't the only one surrounded by miracles. The combat priests darting across the battlefield exhibited similar phenomena. Embers flickered across their entire bodies, their movements ablaze with divine energy.

Boom!

Every time they swung their weapons, flames erupted, far more powerful than anything Lucas could manage.

With their efforts, the tide of monsters was torn apart, burned, and reduced to pieces. Unlike the steadily advancing arrowhead at the front, the rear lines were speeding up, pushing forward with increasing momentum.

"This is the Dragon Slayer's Legion."

"The Crimson Legion, the Crimson Legion of the North."

The supply soldiers, mesmerized, murmured as they watched.

Lucas didn't rush them to move. Instead, he pressed his lips together and gave a firm nod.

After all, he too felt as though his blood was burning, ignited by the sight before him. It was likely the Northern blood running through his veins, reacting to the Great Warrior and his legion.

"The Crimson Legion is advancing! Keep firing—don't stop!" Raising his sword high, Lucas shouted the command and turned his gaze back to the vanguard cutting through the horde of monsters.

By now, every cavalryman had dismounted and was fighting on foot. Their horses had all fallen—but not all had died.

Among the warriors, a single white horse leaped into the air, unmistakably Ian's steed from earlier. The horse lashed out with its hind legs, sending a monster flying and seemingly rescuing a warrior in distress.

As expected of the Dragon Slayer's horse.

The silver armor adorning its body and the glowing magic stones embedded within it finally stood out clearly to Lucas.

Still, there was no need to worry about the lone horse rampaging on its own—because Ian was still at the very front.

Crash—

He continued swinging his greatsword without pause, carving trails of white flames through the air. Ian had dismounted once the charge's speed no longer held meaning.

And now, he wasn't wielding just his greatsword.

When did he?

In his left hand was a golden hexagonal shield, glowing with an otherworldly radiance.

A greatsword and a shield. It was an odd combination, yet Ian wielded both effortlessly, sometimes even gripping the greatsword with both hands.

It seemed almost unbelievable, but the shield seemed to float above his forearm as though weightless.

Of course, the shield wasn't the only incredible thing. Despite having fought at the forefront since the beginning, Ian's movements showed no signs of slowing or fatigue.

Roar—

Even after breaking through the wave of monsters to face the bipedal beast-like monstrosities, Ian's vigor remained unshaken. If anything, his strikes grew fiercer, as if the longer he fought, the stronger he became.

Lucas unconsciously murmured, "O mighty Superhuman.

It was the mournful cry of the Black Wall that snapped him out of his half-dazed state immediately after.

Bwoooom—

Snapping his head toward the sound, he saw the blackened, crimson-glowing wall in the distance, visible through the mist of battle. Unlike the rear where the Crimson Legion surged forward, that area was still shrouded in dark crimson shadows.

And the wail that had just erupted sounded, to Lucas's ears, like the herald of yet another invasion. Turning to glance behind him once more, his brow furrowed even tighter.

Why aren't they slowing their advance? Surely, they wouldn't?

A chilling thought struck him, making his chest tighten.

"Grab as many arrow crates as you can. Bring ladders too," Lucas ordered at the supply soldiers as he turned on his heel.

Striding toward the broken wall, he added, "Lieutenant, bring half the ballista operators and follow me. We're going to greet the Dragon Slayer and the Crimson Legion."