I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 724

"Who knows?" Ian turned his gaze away indifferently and lifted his glass to his lips. "I’m not so sure myself."

"Pardon?" Seras blinked, a beat too slow. It was clearly not the answer she had expected.

Ian offered no further explanation and simply took a sip. Enough had already been made clear. As far as he was concerned, there was little reason to concern himself with Hyked’s next move.

As Seras tilted her head, Thesaya interjected, a sly smile curving her lips. "Would he not already be on the move? Toward the capital. He knows the pursuit will begin soon. Before he is pinned down, he will advance as far as possible."

"That would make sense." Seras glanced at her from the corner of her eye and nodded. "The closer he draws to the capital, the greater the risk of being attacked first."

"Exactly. Now that His Highness has set foot on the mainland, time is no longer on His Majesty’s side," Thesaya replied smoothly.

She then fixed Seras with a peculiar look. "I suspect there will be greater friction between His Majesty and the Great Church. Mistakes will be made. And when that happens, the future Your Highness foresaw will come to pass."

Seras, who had been listening with narrowed eyes, slowly bit her lower lip.

Ian lowered his glass and frowned faintly at Thesaya, silently questioning whether that point truly needed to be pressed.

Thesaya merely shrugged as if to say it did not matter.

"I had prepared myself," Seras said quietly. "And yet, now that it feels real, it is strange. Until now, whenever I dreamed a prophetic vision, I only ever tried to prevent it from becoming reality."

Lowering her gaze, she continued in a subdued voice. "To think that the most ominous vision of my life would become the first exception."

She raised her glass and drank. Asme watched with a trace of concern lingering in her eyes.

"So, do you regret it?" Ian asked.

Even as she drank, Seras kept her eyes on him.

After lowering the glass, she answered, "Of course not, Agent of the Saint. Such emotions do not suit someone born of my bloodline."

The faint trace of guilt, or perhaps self-pity, vanished from her eyes.

Asme refilled her cup.

Seras drew a steady breath. "Once a decision has been made, one must strive for the best possible outcome. Otherwise, it would be worse than having done nothing at all."

"I see," Ian nodded.

In a sense, it was a sentiment that held true even in the world he had once lived in.

Whether she truly meant it did not concern him. If Seras had admitted regret, he would have torn up their arrangement on the spot.

"Besides, even if I were to change my mind, that would not alter the terms of the request I made to you, would it?" Seras added evenly. She understood what mattered most.

Ian curled one corner of his mouth upward and raised his glass again. "Of course not."

He had no intention of intervening in the civil war prematurely. It was only just beginning, after all. They had barely repelled the archdemon’s invasion. He would not drag his people straight into another storm so soon.

"Indeed, further speculation may be meaningless," Thesaya said lightly.

Extending her glass toward Asme for a refill, she looked at Seras. "Even if it is merely one branch among many, we already know how this civil war will unfold."

A kiss and a punch?

Ian swallowed a scoff along with his wine.

Thesaya accepted the refilled glass and cast him a sideways glance. "That must be why the Agent of the Saint has said little. All we need to do is watch the road up to that fork and prepare accordingly."

"You speak wisely, Elder." Seras nodded and smiled. "As more reports arrive, the picture will grow clearer. I have instructed them to send word without fail whenever circumstances change."

"As thorough as ever, Your Highness. The fewer blind spots we have, the easier it will be to prepare," Thesaya smiled.

Ian set his nearly empty glass on the armrest and let out a quiet snort.

As far as he could tell, Thesaya cared little for the Empire’s fate. Whether the throne stood or fell meant nothing to her. What mattered were his interests, the interests of those who followed him, and, no doubt, her own amusement.

The thought did not particularly irritate him. Aside from the fact that he found none of it entertaining, he was not so different.

"Is there sufficient space in the scroll?" Ian asked as Thesaya took a satisfied sip.

From this point on, reports from the capital would likely grow more frequent.

"Of course, Saint’s Agent." Seras nodded at once and continued, "I’ve been conserving it carefully, and I brought the largest scroll available."

Asme, seated beside her, let out a faint sigh. It had clearly cost no small sum.

Ian shrugged. "Good."

"One learns through mistakes. It would be unfortunate if we were ever unable to communicate again due to a shortage of pages, would it not?" Seras added with a faint smile.

A soft chuckle escaped Ian. It must have frustrated her to no end, knowing he had returned yet being unable to exchange even a single proper message.

"Is that all the news you have for us?" Thesaya asked.

Seras hesitated for a moment, then spoke as if weighing her words. "In truth, there is one more."

"And what might that be?" Thesaya lifted her glass again, eyes gleaming.

Seras glanced at Ian before continuing. "My brother left a message."

"The Third Prince?" Ian’s eyes narrowed slightly as that slick, calculating face surfaced in his mind.

Seras nodded. "Yes. He urged me to return at once with you and the Crimson Legion. He said that a long-awaited, perfect opportunity has finally arrived."

Of course he would.

Ian’s lips twisted faintly. "And what did you tell him in reply?"

"I said that matters were growing complicated. That an archdemon had invaded the North with countless followers." Seras answered evenly, then let out a quiet sigh whose meaning was difficult to read.

Thesaya’s eyes curved as she watched Seras raise her glass. "An unintended yet excellent justification. His Highness must be grinding his teeth."

Ian let out a quiet scoff.

After swallowing her wine, Seras looked at him. "Don’t worry, Agent of the Saint. Whatever my brother may say, I will handle it properly."

"I wasn’t worried," Ian replied at once and lifted his glass. "Whatever the prince says, the terms of our agreement will not change."

"Of course. Still... I appreciate you saying that." Seras finished in an odd tone and fell silent.

Whether it was guilt at deceiving her own blood or something else entirely was impossible to tell. Perhaps she was simply acknowledging the ambition that had quietly taken root within her.

Thesaya watched her with faint amusement, but Ian did not concern himself with it.

Seras had chosen not to reveal everything, despite several chances. The agreement with him had also been her decision. The consequences were hers to bear.

As Thesaya said, what matters to me is what comes next.

He leaned back and drained the last of his wine.

Thoughts he had set aside now crowded his mind—Hyked and his legion, the royal family and the Great Church, the ominous future he had witnessed, and Seras’s prophetic dream.

If he is not satisfied with the Great Church....

Ian emptied the glass with a quiet sigh.

The Hyked he had seen seemed nobler than he could ever hope to be. Yet this cursed world had a habit of betraying expectations.

Perhaps the disaster he had foreseen would unfold only after the capital fell.

And if that is not even the end... Damn it.

He lowered the empty glass and exhaled.

He was no longer certain that this civil war alone would lead to that damned ending. Even if it were resolved, something far greater might wait beyond it.

Entirely possible.

He clicked his tongue softly—and then blinked.

Seras and Thesaya were both staring at him.

Ian frowned faintly.

"You look deeply troubled, Agent of the Saint," Thesaya whispered, a sly smile forming. "Might you be pondering when and how to move in order to end this civil war with the least possible loss?"

"You sound as though you very much hope I will say yes," Ian muttered dryly.

Thesaya’s smile deepened. "Of course. That is the most important matter for us, is it not? Wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness?"

"I cannot deny it," Seras answered calmly, her gaze lingering on Ian. "In my view as well, the key to ending this civil war rests in your hands, Agent of the Saint."

It was a key he had never asked for, yet one he now held.

For a fleeting moment, he thought it might be simpler to fight a battle where life and death were clear. At the same time, he could not deny the truth in her words.

How did it come to this?

Suppressing a sigh, Ian raised a palm toward Asme as she offered the bottle.

"I will begin preparations beforehand, but I will not move. At the very least, not until after the capital falls," said Ian.

As Seras narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, Thesaya asked as if she had been waiting for it, "Then how will you gather everyone in one place?"

Ian handed his empty glass to Asme and looked at Thesaya. "Well."

She studied him with a faint frown, then turned her gaze aside as though conceding cleanly. She had realized he had no intention of explaining, at least not yet.

Ian’s eyes shifted back to Seras. "Besides, the most pressing matter is not the civil war, is it?"

"Of course not, Agent of the Saint. Don’t concern yourself with that. I will ensure you enter Travelga safely," Seras answered with renewed seriousness.

Ian nodded and rose from his seat. "Don’t forget. Entering without bloodshed is what matters most. One death will be more than enough."

"Yes. I will make every preparation."

Ian shot Thesaya a look that clearly warned her against unnecessary schemes, then reached out and opened the door.

"When we arrive, there will be a suitable moment for you to step forward."

Without waiting for a reply, he leaped lightly from the carriage and settled back onto Moro’s saddle as it paced alongside.

"We will continue marching until nightfall," he added the words to Phaden, who had caught the door as it swung open.

Phaden nodded and climbed back into the carriage.

Thunk—

The door shut behind him.

Turning his head, Ian once again took in the long procession stretching behind them. The spellcasters had already regrouped and were watching him and Moro once more. The brazier wagons and supply carts rolled steadily onward, while soldiers trudged behind, weary and silent, some wrapped in fresh bandages.

"I made mine into a necklace since it’s got this perfect hole here. I’ll pass it down through generations."

"Impressive. Not as impressive as mine, though."

The barbarian warriors laughed, proudly displaying their spoils.

A faint chuckle finally brushed Ian’s lips.

I didn’t expect them to be that pleased.

The items they flaunted were nothing more than shattered fragments of the armor he had worn.

He had agreed without much thought when Askel requested that, if it was to be discarded, the brothers be allowed to divide it among themselves.

Should I consider it fortunate that they are simple-minded?

Ian glanced up at the ashen sky, then looked forward again. The faint smile on his lips vanished.

It was not merely because the two commanders walking side by side had turned to look at him.

Beyond them, in the distance, a firmly shut gate stood just within view.

"Let’s move to the front, Moro."

Fixing the unguarded gate with a steady gaze, Ian tugged on the reins.

Travelga was no longer far away.