I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 721

Ian tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving upward. "So you’re saying that if the archduke lives, he’ll actively dispatch reinforcements to the capital?"

"As expected, you grasp things quickly, Agent of the Saint."

A faint smile touched Cherwyn’s lips. She held his gaze as though searching through it.

"It would become his only way to preserve his legitimacy and retain the support of the royal family and the Great Church."

It was a far more aggressive prediction than Ian’s own. He found it persuasive. Still, he feigned ignorance.

"He has only just managed to repel the archdemon. The Crimson Legion and I remain intact as well. Would he truly take such a reckless step?"

"You did not strip him of his title, nor did you kill him. Once he is certain you have no desire for his seat, he will devote himself entirely to reclaiming his authority," Cherwyn replied without hesitation.

After studying him for a moment, she added more gently, "Which is why the archduke must die, Agent of the Saint. If it burdens you to act directly, allow me to wield the blade."

She lifted her thin hand and brushed her wrinkled cheek. "I, too, now possess sufficient justification to pass judgment upon him."

She was clearly worried Ian might spare the man. Considering the stance he had shown thus far, it was not an unreasonable concern.

Is that what they mean when they say blood will tell?

Ian found himself once again impressed by Cherwyn’s true nature.

In the game, she had offered herself as a sacrifice. Someone capable of that decision could never be weak. Had she been, she could not have become the Apostle of the Blazing Goddess. Passion and madness—she possessed both.

Contrary to his thoughts, Ian kept a faint smile. "There will be no need for you to step forward. I have no intention of sparing the archduke either. I will execute him myself."

"Hearing you say that at last puts my mind at ease." Cherwyn straightened, the tension leaving her rigid frame. It didn’t sound like empty words.

"In any case, that gives me one more justification. Though even without it, I had already made preparations," Ian added, lifting the cup to his lips.

Cherwyn’s eyes gleamed. "So that is why you went to see General Harald. May I ask what passed between you?"

Everyone’s watching my every move, it seems.

Clicking his tongue inwardly, Ian nodded. "Gladly."

He recounted everything—his meeting with Harald and even the favor he had requested of Seras. He spoke in greater detail than usual, deliberately so. He wanted to put Cherwyn at ease. Leaving even a sliver of doubt might prompt her to devise something troublesome.

"I see... Though he may be rigid, he possesses the dignity and bearing befitting his station."

When he finished, Cherwyn nodded thoughtfully. Her crimson eyes, now calmer, rested on him.

"The higher one stands, the harder it becomes to admit fault and repent. That must be why you chose to forgive him, Agent of the Saint."

"Everyone makes mistakes. And he will be paying for his mistake for a long time," Ian said.

Cherwyn inclined her head, then lowered her voice. "And you intend to make Utrid, Harald’s son-in-law and the archduke’s second son, the successor."

"I only just learned his name. But yes, that’s likely how it will unfold."

"Utrid..." A smile formed on her lips. "You are wise, Agent of the Saint. Keeping Generals Gelud and Harald within your grasp while placing a figurehead at the front."

"I will say this in advance—I have no intention of manipulating them." Ian frowned immediately.

This is ridiculous.

Somehow, every word and action of his was being interpreted as political maneuvering. It was inevitable, perhaps—he now possessed immense fame and formidable power. However, that didn’t make it any less exhausting.

"I simply want the North to remain untouched by the civil war in the capital—and for neither myself nor the Snowfield to be dragged into it."

"Of course. I am well aware that you harbor no ulterior motives, Agent of the Saint."

Contrary to expectation, Cherwyn accepted his words easily. Her smile only deepened. There was even a trace of mischief in her crimson eyes as she looked at him.

"However, the majority of the North, especially its commanders and nobles, will interpret your intentions differently. Even Utrid himself will believe he is being made into a puppet archduke."

"If he refrains from repeating his father’s mistakes, such misunderstandings will fade with time." Instead of sighing, Ian took a drink.

Then he leaned forward slightly and said, "Besides, allowing that misunderstanding to persist benefits you as well, does it not? They will hesitate all the more to support the capital while they measure my reaction."

Cherwyn’s curved eyes twitched faintly.

Meeting her gaze evenly, Ian continued in the same calm tone, "You don’t wish to kill the archduke solely for the sake of the North. You wish to ensure that His Highness Hyked does not lose his life."

He did not voice the thought that followed—that perhaps she also wished to see the Dark Prince reclaim his rightful place.

He did not need to. Cherwyn was already staring at him in silence.

Between them, the small brazier crackled softly as the sacred flame burned.

After a moment, the corners of her lips lifted once more. "My... it seems I overstepped. You were gracious enough to overlook certain matters, and I forced you to bring them up again. How unkind of me. My apologies, Agent of the Saint."

"Not at all. I may have taken the joke too far myself."

She doesn’t deny it to the end.

Ian drained the last of the mead in his cup. The gesture made clear he was about to rise.

"And truly, thank you. Had you not led the legion beyond the Wall, the North would have suffered irreparable loss. The temple as well," said Cherwyn.

"It was also for my own sake." Ian lowered the empty cup and continued, "If the mainland had fallen, the Snowfield would have been next. And as you saw, Dharamaraja’s kin only grew stronger the longer suffering and death continued."

"You are always more modest than necessary, Agent of the Saint." Cherwyn laughed softly and bent to retrieve the bottle.

That small motion was enough to make Ian’s eyes narrow slightly. She was not finished.

Straightening, she continued, "Now that I think of it, there remains another being which must one day pay the price—the archdemon, Dharamaraja."

"Of course. That day will come. Though I am no longer certain we can still call it an archdemon." Ian extended his cup over the brazier.

Cherwyn poured as she watched him.

He shrugged. "Through the avatar, I pursued its consciousness and struck at it."

"O Lu Entre, have mercy."

"It will not wield power as it did before. Even the god it served may have cast it aside."

Yog had yet to awaken, but it was a reasonable conclusion.

Cherwyn exhaled softly in genuine surprise before withdrawing the bottle. "You never cease to astonish me, Agent of the Saint. ...How many are aware of this?"

"Only you and the vice commander. For now."

"That is a relief," said Cherwyn.

Ian suppressed a faint laugh. He understood perfectly why she considered it fortunate.

She wanted the defense forces to believe another archdemon remained at full strength. Only then would they hesitate to dispatch troops to the capital after tending to their losses.

Thorough to the very end.

In any case, he understood her intentions well enough. She had obtained what she wanted. There would be no need for her to stir up unnecessary trouble now.

"Could you continue to keep it that way, Agent of the Saint?" Cherwyn asked.

Meeting Ian’s gaze, she added carefully, "There may be those who begin to question how you reversed the flow of chaos."

She was making it clear that she, too, would leave that matter buried.

Ian lowered his cup. "That is hardly difficult. You may rest at ease and focus on your recovery."

"I would like to. However... Priest Miguel seems deeply concerned. A number of soldiers are dying from the curse left behind by the archdemon’s minions."

At that, one of Ian’s brows twitched.

Misreading his reaction, Cherwyn continued, "Chaos has taken root and is devouring them. It progresses so quickly that attempting to purge it with sacred flame alone would cost them their lives. So I intended to examine them myself."

"Wait for now." Ian cut in bluntly.

When Cherwyn blinked, he tilted the cup in his hand. "I plan to attempt the purification myself tonight."

Her head inclined slightly. "However, the God of Battle is not known for tending to such matters... Have you devised some method?"

"That is a trade secret."

Her expression grew even more perplexed at his offhand remark.

Without elaborating, Ian drained the rest of the mead and rose to his feet. "Focus on restoring your strength, Saintess. I have no intention of lingering here long."

"What is—." Cherwyn parted her lips, then slowly shook her head. "Very well. Since you have shown such consideration, I will recover as swiftly as I can."

She rose as if to see him off. Ian set the empty cup down and turned toward the exit.

I’d almost rather fight another demon.

He exhaled silently.

For now, the urgent matters were handled. Until nightfall, he intended to lie still and conserve his strength.

***

Clack, clack—

Nila led the brazier wagon out through the entrance of the first floor of the inner fortress. As its warmth receded, a chill crept swiftly into the dim hall.

"I shall escort you, Your Excellency." Gelud, who had been watching over the brazier, finally turned to Ian. His gaze flicked briefly behind him.

"As you wish."

You hardly need to escort me, Ian thought, but nodded nonetheless.

Gelud gestured ahead and turned.

Step, step.

As Ian moved forward, some twenty garrison soldiers who had been standing behind him fell into line like a tail.

They were assigned as guards in case of unforeseen trouble. It was entirely unnecessary, but Ian didn’t refuse them. He could always make use of extra hands.

"Do you truly intend to enter alone, Your Excellency?" Gelud asked after only a few steps. Unease lingered in his eyes.

It was a natural concern. The soldiers afflicted by chaos had all been gathered in the assembly hall at the rear of the first floor. They were said to be hovering on the brink of death.

Nearly ten had already fallen, their bodies cremated under priestly supervision with sacred flame to prevent mutation and reanimation.

"I’ll be fine. There’s no need to worry," Ian answered without the slightest hesitation.

To Gelud’s eyes, he must have looked defenseless, carrying no visible weapon.

In truth, he could draw a weapon from his pocket dimension at any moment. Even without one, a single spell would be enough.

—Unbelievable... They saw you strike down a fragment of a god, and they’re worried about this?

Yog sounded as though it might drift back to sleep at any moment, yet it remained awake—stirred by the chaos power Ian had fed it.

I only meant to shorten its nap a little.

It was possible because the creature had grown. In any case, the timing was fortunate. With Yog present, there was always the chance of unexpected insight when circumstances turned unpredictable.

"I will wait just outside the door. If you require anything, please call me." Gelud bowed deeply. He still treated Ian as the supreme commander.

"As I said, don’t open the door until I call for you," Ian replied absently. He understood why Gelud behaved this way.

Far from being disappointed by Ian’s decision, Gelud had been moved by it—moved that Ian had forgiven Harald and allowed him to retain his post. The talk of a demigod who did not seek to rule had likely played its part as well.

"Here we are, Your Excellency."

At last, Gelud stopped before a massive door at the center of the hallway. He reached for the handle just as a soldier hurried to take the one opposite.

Creeeak—

At Ian’s slight nod, they pulled the doors open. A wave of cold air rolled out, thick with the stench of rot. It was a scent Ian no longer found startling—the smell of death.

—How fragrant....

Yog snickered faintly.

Ian’s gaze swept across the dim hall beyond.

"Ugh... ngh...." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"Kh—ghk...."

Rows of makeshift beds lined the chamber, and upon them lay soldiers twisting and convulsing, groans spilling from their lips.

"O Lu Solar...." Gelud’s face twisted.

The soldiers behind Ian were no different.

Ian stepped inside without a trace of hesitation.

"Close the door," Ian said quietly.

Gelud and the other soldier, who had been staring blankly at the scene, blinked and quickly obeyed.

Creak—Thud.

The heavy doors shut.

Ian did not look back. As he advanced, a vivid violet light ignited within his eyes.

Thump... Thump...

Through the glow, he saw the violet chaos clinging to their flesh like tumors, writhing as it drove its roots ever deeper.

—Shall I assist, my friend? There seems to be... rather too much for you alone....

The whisper brushed through his mind, tinged with laughter.

You just want to feed on the chaos.

Even so, Ian answered calmly, "Save those who are about to die first. Do that, and I’ll permit it."

—Gladly. My friend. Gladly....

Something writhed at his wrist at once, but Ian paid it no mind. He crouched before a young man whose joints were contorting in violent spasms.

Without hesitation, he thrust his hand straight into the pulsing mass of chaos writhing through the man’s torso.

Whoosh—

As if resonating with Ian’s chaos, the violet glow flared brighter in an instant.