I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 392

Clack, clack...

With a sound like clockwork gears turning, the stone door descended.

To think they wasted technology like this on wars.

Ian clicked his tongue inwardly. Of course, history was full of examples of civilizations regressing, but he couldn't help feeling regret. If people had preserved and further developed this technology, the world might have been a much better place to live.

At the very least, there wouldn't be the sight of people dumping waste onto the streets.

"Stand side by side in front of the desk," Diana whispered as she bent down to pass through the doorway.

Ian followed and, for a brief moment, blinked in surprise. A quest completion window had popped up.

So that's why the quest wasn't completed earlier.

It seemed the guide's task had been to lead him this far. Ian dismissed the window as he fully entered the chamber. The rectangular stone room was fairly spacious.

In the center stood a large desk with a chair behind it, piled with books, documents, and a lit lantern. The added brightness of the chamber was clearly due to the lantern's glow.

Ian's gaze landed on the figure standing behind the desk—a gaunt, middle-aged man with sharp blue eyes.

Even nobles seem different here.

The Count's appearance was more reminiscent of an overworked office worker than a noble. His hollow, shadowed eyes weren't merely a trick of the lamplight.

The neatly groomed beard and Imperial-style, well-tailored clothing were the only indicators of his status.

Clack, clack...

The orc, who had bent almost double to squeeze through the door, pushed the handle back up to close it.

The room fell silent, if only for a moment.

"Greetings. I am Count Albiro Graham, the overseer of Drag Velga," the Count said, bowing slightly at the knee. His tone was plain—neither arrogant nor commanding.

Lucia immediately placed her left hand over her chest plate. "I am Lucifer Ash Riurel, a devotee of Lu Solar, Apostle of Lu Entre, and the new flame of the Brazier. Though now, I suppose I'm nothing but an extinguished ember."

"Ian Hope. Mercenary," Ian added with a slight nod.

Diana, standing by the desk and facing Ian, furrowed her brow, her gaze asking, What's that supposed to mean?

The Count, too, looked at him with mild confusion. "A mercenary?"

"Sir Ian is no ordinary mercenary," Lucia interjected naturally, glancing sideways at Ian before continuing. "He is renowned across the continent, hailed as a superhuman by many. He's also my official representative."

Ian's eyebrow twitched slightly as Lucia gave a subtle shrug, her demeanor suggesting that this might make things easier.

"Superhuman, is it? Considering what I've heard, I can't say that's an exaggeration. I'll take it to mean you're a legendary mercenary," the Count remarked, stroking his beard shortly after.

Lucia raised her eyebrows slightly in triumph.

Well, can’t deny it worked out in my favor.

Ian nodded to himself, and at that moment, the Count extended his open hand toward the chairs. "Then, please, have a seat."

In front of the desk were two plain, dark wooden chairs, clearly crafted from mutated wood. Ian and Lucia sat side by side, and only after they sat did the Count settle into his chair and spoke. "You must be deeply disheartened, Apostle. Here, you won't feel the touch of the Blazing Goddess at all."

Though respectful, the Count's tone was far from the reverent attitude of nobles outside the walls. It was closer to addressing an equal peer than an Apostle of God.

"I was, at first. But now, I'm fine. I believe there's a reason I was brought here," Lucia replied, her expression unchanged.

"Hmm, I see. As expected, you're as resolute as I've heard," the Count said, nodding again as he turned his gaze toward a quill pen on the desk.

Picking it up, he continued, "I heard you crossed the Wall through the Northern front during the erosion. Is that true?"

"Yes. We defended the Karlingion front with the Autonomous Defense Forces. In the process, we unintentionally ended up crossing it."

"I'd like to hear more details about that. It's hard to imagine how you broke through the monsters' invasion to cross the wall."

The corners of Lucia's lips curled slightly. "Even here, it seems you're well aware of the process of erosion, Your Excellency."

The Count paused briefly, then picked up a book from the desk and placed it in front of him. "I assume you're already familiar with the existence of the Martyr Expedition. We've gathered a fair understanding of the outside world through their accounts."

So, they do have a means of communication between strongholds.

Count continued speaking. "Apostle, you'll have the chance to ask your questions later. For now, this is about verifying your identities and intentions and deciding your place here. I ask for your full cooperation in my inquiry."

"In that case, rather than myself—" Lucia's gaze turned to Ian. "Why not speak with Sir Ian instead? As I mentioned, not only is he my representative, but he's also someone who has experienced every situation far more objectively than I have."

Smart move.

Rather than risk saying something misleading, she had deftly handed the conversation over before any mistakes could be made.

"Very well," the Count agreed, nodding before turning to Ian.

"Sir Ian, could you answer?"

"There was a demon among the invading monsters," Ian began without hesitation.

The Count's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "A demon?"

"A creature wielding powerful void magic capable of toppling the fortress of Karlingion. If we didn't kill it, the entire front line would have collapsed. So, a special operations unit, comprising the Brazier's priests led by Apostle Lucia, Northern barbarians, and elite mercenaries, scaled the walls and pushed toward the front."

The Count remained quiet.

"We suffered heavy losses but managed to drive it to the Wall. However, in its final moments, the demon cast a desperate spell, and we were caught in it." Ian continued, his tone straightforward, neither exaggerating nor downplaying the events. He was, after all, no less skilled a liar than the elves.

"And when I came to, we were on the other side of the Wall."

"I see." The Count, who had been scribbling notes into his book, nodded as if piecing the story together. "If a demon was involved, I suppose taking such risks was inevitable."

Ian glanced briefly at Diana. He was now certain—she hadn't said a word about the Black Sword, the Platinum Barrier, or Lucia's magic.

"Let me ask you again, Sir Ian," the Count said, while Diana, visibly uneasy, twitched slightly at the corner of her eye.

"Do you also believe the Wanderers have more traps in place?"

"I can't be sure, but..." Ian trailed off briefly, meeting the Count's blue eyes. "For a necromancer, such a thing wouldn't be too difficult. As for why or what purpose it serves—I can't say I understand."

Sometimes, uncertainty sounded more credible than outright conviction.

The Count seemed to agree."Do you also agree that the survivors wouldn’t be able to handle this on their own?"

"It wasn't easy for me, either. For this part, I'd say someone else would have a clearer answer," Ian replied, directing his gaze toward Diana.

Catching his cue, Diana turned to the Count and nodded briskly.

"Hmm, I see." The Count let out a sigh that seemed to come from deep within his chest—a sound Ian found strangely familiar.

It was the sigh he'd heard from overworked bosses, colleagues preparing for all-nighters, and occasionally from himself.

Setting his pen down, the count rubbed his fingers over his eyelids, exhaling again before speaking without lifting his hand. "I heard both of you wish to take part in the Wanderer's extermination. Is that correct?"

"It is," Ian confirmed, casting a glance at Diana and shrugging his shoulders. "If Your Excellency would grant us permission."

"If you're truly as skilled as they say, I see no reason to refuse. However, that decision is not mine to make."

Ian tilted his head slightly, curious.

The Count clicked his tongue softly before continuing. "There are others who specialize in full-scale battles against demons or the corrupted ones. We call them Wolves. The forces here in Drag Velga consist only of Bears, our defensive troops, and Owls, our scouts. The rest are—"

"—Those who never leave the city. Among ourselves, we call them Moles," Diana interjected calmly, meeting the count's gaze.

The Count nodded without any sign of offense. "In that sense, I am the leader of the Moles."

Self-deprecating nobles, huh?

Ian inwardly smirked and then asked, "So, what should we do?"

"Typically, they visit our strongholds periodically, either to deliver or receive supplies," the Count explained.

"Interesting..." Ian nodded lightly, imagining how, in the game, one would likely become part of that group and roam the black lands.

"This time, we will formally request the Wanderer's extermination. I will also communicate the Apostle's and your intentions to them. When the Wolves arrive, they will test your qualifications and assign you appropriate duties and responsibilities."

The Count tapped the book in front of him with his fingers before adding, "The Wanderers are notorious, and the necromancer has likely become a demon. A considerable number of Wolves will be dispatched, perhaps more than we expect."

Just then, a new quest window appeared before Ian.

[Wolves of the Black Lands.]

It was exactly the continuation quest he had expected.

"Although you said you'd take questions later—" Ian began, casually closing the quest window as he spoke, "How do you communicate with them? Scroll of Correspondence?"

"You are right." The Count gave Ian a surprised look. "There are a few other methods, but for this, I plan to use the Scroll of Correspondence. The situation is grave enough to warrant it... Hmm, yes."

He glanced back and forth between Ian and Lucia before clasping his hands and resting them on the book.

"That should suffice for verification. Until they arrive, please stay in Drag Velga and take time to rest and adapt to life here. As for getting accustomed—" The Count's gaze shifted sideways. "This friend here will assist you."

Diana, who had reflexively nodded, suddenly froze. "Excuse me?"

When she frowned and turned back toward him, the Count pressed his fingers to his temples and elaborated.

"The Owls need to be sent out to locate the troupe and ensure those already out don't wander too close to the edges of the rift. Others must prepare the supplies for the hunt. Since you've just returned, I intended this as a chance for you to rest while guiding our guests. Or do you object? If that's the case, I'll assign—"

"No, I'll do it." Diana cut him off, closing her eyes briefly before agreeing. "I'll handle it..."

You'd think someone was forcing her into a lion's den, Ian thought, suppressing a quiet snort as he watched her begrudging acceptance.

"Thank you for your consideration, Your Excellency," Lucia said with a soft smile. She cast a brief glance at Diana, who still had her eyes closed, and added, "Diana will be a great help. She's exceptionally capable."

"Indeed, one could call her a jewel of the stronghold," the Count added, clearly intending for Diana to hear it.

At his words, Diana slowly opened her eyes, wearing an expression of disbelief, yet she subtly tilted her chin upward as if to accept the compliment.

Thesa was weak to praise, too. Was this a trait unique to Erenos?

Count resumed speaking. "Now, I'll give the two of you a chance as well. You both look like you have plenty of questions."

"Then, I'll ask, Your Excellency," Lucia said, glancing briefly at Ian. At his small nod, she turned back and spoke. "Who commands and governs all the strongholds? Could it be—"

Meeting the Count's blue eyes, she swallowed before continuing, "His Highness, the former Crown Prince, Hyked Astrea?"