I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Chapter 326

Chapter 326

"Huh...." Trude let out a brief sigh, his mouth slightly agape.

Without adding another word, Ian stood and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping into the hallway.

"You’re ending it like this? W-Wait a moment, Captain...!" Trude hastily jumped to his feet, rushing after Ian. The wooden floor creaked under his large frame.

"Do you have more to say?" Ian kept walking as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the distant sound of shouting down the hallway.

"A month is far too short. Just gathering all the members will take at least two weeks. And what about supplies?"

Trude followed behind, whispering urgently. "Every resource is sent straight to the front lines or the capital as soon as it’s produced. Travelga barely has anything left. Do you think we go to the cities ourselves to scrounge up supplies just for fun...?"

Ian’s expression remained unchanged.

Trude swallowed dryly. "And the rumors? If we’re to spread the word that you’ve returned—"

"You’re mistaken." Ian cut him off.

Trude stopped in his tracks as Ian, still looking ahead, continued, "We’re already in a state of war. I didn’t set the timeline. Complaining to me won’t change a thing."

"... The Black Wall," Trude muttered, finally running a hand over his face. "So it was true that the erosion was less than three months away... Damn it... I thought we had a little more time."

It wasn’t surprising that the exact timing hadn’t been disclosed. If everyone knew for certain that the erosion was imminent, chaos would be unavoidable. They must have been spreading false rumors to maintain control.

Ian spoke calmly. "It’s much sooner than that."

"...!"

"Even a month is pushing it. And..."

Ian turned to face Trude, eyes sharp. "Getting this done, despite the difficulty, is your role."

"Y-Yes. That’s my role. Of course...." Trude, meeting Ian’s dark, unwavering gaze, nodded quickly.

He closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself, then added, "I’ll request His Highness the Archduke, using your name. Even without that, I’ll find a way."

"Focus on gathering the people for now. We might get help from an unexpected source."

Trude tilted his head in confusion as Ian headed down the stairs without hesitation. From below came the rhythmic chanting of strange shouts. The noise stopped abruptly as Ian reached halfway down the stairs.

The two mercenaries, gripping each other's hands tightly, as well as those surrounding them, all paused and turned their attention to Ian.

Ian's eyes shifted between Miguel, who was seated nearby, and Lucia, who sat across from him, eyes glinting with interest.

"What exactly is going on here?"

"Ah, well..." Miguel, sporting a somewhat awkward smile, picked up a map that had been laid out on the table.

"We were gathering our thoughts to draw a map of the Northern villages."

So, this was the task they were busy with...

Despite his thought, Ian's eyes narrowed further. "And what does that have to do with arm wrestling?"

"Well... a debate broke out over the precise locations of the villages."

The shadow on Ian's brow deepened. "You're not telling me the map is being decided by who wins, are you?"

"That's... exactly right...." As Miguel replied, Ian's gaze finally took in the map.

The top of the wall was marked with new dotted lines in black ink, interspersed with crude, child-like drawings of houses.

... So, this is what I have to navigate with?

"Mercenaries often use this method to draw rough maps. It’s surprisingly accurate," Lucia added matter-of-factly. Judging by her expression, she might have just found the arm wrestling amusing.

Miguel, nodding as if to confirm her statement, quickly added, "So, did you finish your talk?"

"... Yeah." Ian’s voice was subdued, and the silence deepened across the room.

"Um... Captain," Trude whispered deeply, almost folding in half, "Could you say a few words? It would really help."

Perhaps because he was in front of the troops, Trude's expression had taken on a rather solemn air.

What a hassle...

Ian let out a faint snort but still cast his gaze over the room. Scanning the mercenaries one by one, he parted his lips to speak.

"Dragon Slayer’s Warriors...."

Some looked up at him with eyes full of worry and fear, while others bore expressions mixed with reverence and anticipation. The former were mostly those who had known him, and the latter were mostly unfamiliar faces.

... Yeah. It's always scarier when you know more.

With a dry smirk, Ian concluded in a steady voice, "The time has come to prove your name."

"Did you? Ha! Even managing that’s impressive."

Miguel joked, casting a glance at Lucia before continuing, "The Emperor is truly ruthless, isn’t he? Trusting you so much that he’d move half the garrison... And then there's the Crusaders and the Purifiers. You know as well as I do how valuable they are even if they’re just a small force."

The withdrawal of the Crusaders and the Purifiers hadn’t been the Emperor’s decision, nor something he desired, but Ian saw no need to correct that misunderstanding. It wouldn’t change how Miguel perceived things anyway. The complicated relationship between the royal house and the Order was none of his concern.

"It’s practically like telling the autonomous territories to defend the Northern Front on their own. Even if it’s naturally stronger than the Eastern or Southern fronts. Northerners won’t forget this."

...And neither will I.

It was undeniable that the situation had shifted entirely. Only recently did he feel confident they could manage. Now, even holding Karlingion seemed daunting.

He abandoned any notion of defending the entire front. No matter how hard he tried, there would be gaps across the Northern Front. It might end the way it had in the game after all.

...No. It won’t come to that. Because I will stop it. Somehow.

Despite his silent resolve, Ian spoke in a calm tone, "It’s already happened. We just have to do what we can, and do it well."

"Yeah, I suppose..."

"And no one’s more pressed than the Archduke. He’s a cunning man; he won’t just stand by and watch while he’s burned. He won’t rely on me alone, either."

Miguel nodded in agreement. "True enough. He’s known to look out for himself fiercely. He’s probably already searching for alternatives with bloodshot eyes."

"Do you think he’ll ally with the Magic Tower?" Lucia interjected.

Ian’s brow furrowed slightly. "Does the Archduke have close ties with any of the Towers?"

"I haven’t seen it firsthand, but I heard he maintains a good relationship with the Red Tower."

"I’ve heard that too. You know how strange mages can be. Oh, but of course..." Miguel glanced at Ian with a sheepish look. "I didn’t mean it as a jab at you."

"Who said you did?"

"I just felt guilty, that’s all. Heh... Anyway, I heard the red mages like anything that can burn or explode. They say they find some kind of beauty in it."

"Not all of them, but I've heard that many are like that. I can understand why they’re so captivated by the flames. As you know," Lucia added with a faint smile on her lips.

Ian’s gaze turned to her. "By the way, are you completely unable to use magic now?"

"Yes, ever since the stigmata settled in my heart. But that doesn’t mean my talent disappeared. Instead, I’ve gained the ability to wield the sacred flame."

Lucia looked at Ian and gently opened her right hand. An orange flame, silent and flickering like a dancer, appeared in her palm before vanishing without a trace.

She smiled faintly and added, "The High Priestess said that if the stigmata were to disappear, I might be able to use spells again. But I doubt that will ever happen."

"Don’t mention that in front of other mages. Just in case."

Lucia’s smile deepened at Ian’s added caution. "You still don’t trust mages at all, do you, Sir Ian?"

"Not until the sun rises in the west. So, the Archduke has a special relationship with the Red mages, you say."

Ian recalled the battle at Bellium Fortress. There had been a Red mage alongside General Gelud, who commanded the battle. That mage was likely one of Archduke Olaf’s people.

"The North is the perfect place for them to unleash their power without restraint. And Northerners don’t dislike the red mages as much as others. They’re bold and fiery, not shadowy and secretive like other mages. Though, of course, that doesn’t mean they’re actually like that."

"Of course not."

Except for some fiery lunatics, perhaps.

As Ian snorted, Miguel shrugged and spoke. "Now that the Order has lost its sway, they might join if promised a substantial reward. I’m sure they’ve been wanting to. They’ve had to suppress themselves under the Order’s gaze, unable to fully spread their wings."

For once, he’s making a valid point...

Ian found himself nodding, surprised at how reasonable Miguel’s speculation sounded. Of course, most of them were reckless lunatics. But in these circumstances, they could be of great help. In a world where firearms were not highly developed, they were essentially walking cannons. Particularly useful in siege defense.

"And then there’s us. Now that we’ve relayed detailed information through the mercenaries, the Church is bound to send as many priest units as they can, well-equipped and well-organized," Lucia added, looking at Ian.

She continued, "We hold fewer prejudices against red mages compared to others, so we should be able to integrate with minimal conflict. Though it might turn the front lines into a sea of fire. But in our current state, wouldn’t that actually be beneficial?"

"It would be..."

Even as he replied, Ian’s brow furrowed slightly. The image of the Temple of Brazier from the game flashed through his mind. Specifically, the priests who had descended into madness, committing human sacrifices. They wielded flames that were close to white, verging on blue.

"But not everyone has received divine revelations like you. And the Goddess’s grace isn’t something one can just summon at will."

"True. But we do have the sacred flame. Even without being an apostle, one can carry its spark."

That sounds rather dangerous.

While Ian was deep in thought, Lucia continued, "Of course, maintaining that spark requires reigniting it with the sacred flame regularly. But as you know, there are only two who can wield it right now: the High Priestess and me."

Ian’s brow furrowed as he looked at Lucia. Her eyes, which had glowed with a near-yellow hue, had now settled into a warm orange.

"...Maybe this is my calling, to protect the North."