I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

The horses and wagon had miraculously remained unharmed. Since Vernon’s body needed to be transported, it was decided that Mev and Miguel would drive the wagon. A knight in plate armor sitting on a carriage was hardly a majestic sight, but Mev paid it no mind to it. The group left the tomb forest and paused at the crossroads. The farewell was concise.

“I’ll be waiting for you at Agel Lan, Ian,” said Mev

“See you soon,” Ian replied.

That was the extent of their parting words. Ian and Mev went their separate ways, toward Orendel and Agel Lan, respectively. Philip glanced back until the wagon was out of sight and then expressed his concern.

"I wonder if Miguel can truly serve my lord well," said Philip.

"And you’re not worried about yourself?" Ian chuckled.

"Of course. Not just because my lord has asked, but since it’s my mission, I’ll do my utmost," said Philip.

“Things will be quite different compared to when you were serving Sir Riruel.”

"That must be what my lord wants me to experience. Don’t worry. I’m prepared." Well, they say a picture is worth a thousand words. Ian shrugged and drove the horse forward. The journey had been comfortable thanks to the paladin, but now, the true nature of the dark ages awaited him once more.

Night fell again, covering the world in darkness. Philip clung closer to the horse’s side since Ian had forbidden lighting any torches.

"But… wouldn’t it be fine to light just one torch?” Philip asked.

"No, it’s not okay. Have you forgotten last night?" Ian dismissed the idea with a snort.

When they were a larger group, they could afford to be more relaxed. But now, lighting a torch would be like turning themselves into a walking billboard for every hungry monster in the area. Although Ian and Philip weren’t weak enough to fall prey to Agel Lan’s monsters, avoiding unnecessary trouble and fatigue was the best strategy. Just last night, a few goblins attracted by their campfire had disturbed their sleep.

"It’s not that dark. Stop being so dramatic and find us a spot to camp.”

In Ian’s view, the darkness was manageable.

"Not that dark...?" Philip looked around, puzzled. It was a night with hardly any moonlight. Philip continued, "I’m sorry to say, but I can hardly see anything around us.”

"...?" Ian’s brows furrowed slightly. Scanning the surroundings, he eventually scratched his chin.

Is this because of the chaos power...? Ian’s vision was unusually clear, even without magical assistance. But that didn’t mean he was about to let Philip light a torch.

"Keep walking. It’s a good chance to get used to the dark."

"...Yes."

Their silent advance continued. Philip, occasionally jittery from the sounds and gazes of the night, suddenly widened his eyes.

"Sir, Do you see that?" said Philip.

Philip gestured toward the shadows. Ian acknowledged with a nod. A patchwork of light flickered in the distance. Amidst the foliage and underbrush, figures gathered around a blaze were visible. Ian was able to discern their forms in the illumination. There were five adult men.

"Shall we approach? It might be more comfortable to spend the night with them." Philip asked, his eyes shining with hope.

Ian muttered, "Well..." he pondered, then looked down at Philip, "If you want. Let’s check it out."

"Good call!" Worried that he might change his mind, Philip quickened his pace. As the campfire grew nearer,

"Stop!"

A shout erupted. Two men, concealed by trees, were aiming crossbows at them. To Ian, their aim seemed laughably off, but Philip instinctively ducked.

"We’re just travelers passing by!" said Philip.

"So?" One of the men responded.

"We were hoping to spend the night together. Would it be alright if we joined you?" Philip replied.

The men with crossbows turned their gaze toward the campfire. A man sitting on a small rock, sipping his drink, nodded, "Come closer, slowly."

Philip, proudly smiling at Ian, approached the campfire. As they got closer, tension appeared on Philip’s face as well. Not just the two with crossbows, but all five men were armed. The apparent leader even had one eye that was stark white.

"You’re not ordinary travelers. Take a seat. We have plenty of room." The one-eyed man, smiling broadly, invited Ian and Philip to join.

Dismounting, Ian walked over to them with a heavy tread. "We’ll be in your debt."

"Offering a seat is nothing. By the looks of it, you’re mercenaries," said the one-eyed man.

"You look the part yourselves." Ian took a seat by the fire.

"Those camping out at this hour are usually our kind, living by the sword, aren’t they?" The one-eyed man laughed.

Philip, having tied the horses to a tree, sat down next to Ian. Relaxed by the one-eyed man’s friendly demeanor, he leaned his shield and sword against his thigh.

"With your help, we’ll have a comfortable night. To show our thanks, we’ll share some food with you," said Philip.

"That’s welcome news. We’ll enjoy it." Not just the one-eyed man, but the other mercenaries also raised their glasses in gratitude.

"Seems like you had a tough request,” Ian observed them and commented.

"You have a keen eye. That’s right." The one-eyed man laughed.

Only then did Philip notice the bandages wrapped around his arm. The others had bandages on their shoulders or legs too.

"Must have been a formidable beast," said Ian.

"A pain in the ass. What we heard in Lu Sard was nothing like reality," the one-eyed man replied.

"You crossed two borders to get here?" Ian asked.

"Yes. Thought the bounty would be worth the trouble of coming out to this backwater. But God Damn, we attacked in broad daylight and still lost three men before we managed to take it down. Got our money’s worth, though." The one-eyed man shrugged.

The one-eyed man continued, "Anyway, with heads reduced, we’ll be sitting on a pile of money when we get back."

The mercenaries chuckled. Suddenly, a box one of them was sitting on jostled slightly. A sound, somewhere between a groan and a sob, emanated from within.

Philip’s eyes widened as Ian nonchalantly said, "Caught it alive, I see."

"That was part of the requirement. This box is also a sealed container given by our employer." The one-eyed man looked back at Ian.

"And you? Heading back from completing a task?" The one-eyed man asked.

"Something like that." Ian nodded, and Philip added, "We’re coming from the Tomb Forest."

"The Tomb Forest...?" asked the one-eyed man.

"Ah, you might not know. It’s a forest shrouded in fog. There... well, we killed a beast," said Philip.

"Just the two of you? You must be quite skilled. Well..." The one-eyed man glanced at the sword at Ian’s waist. He continued, "That sword you’re carrying doesn’t look ordinary."

"Of course. This sword, if I may say-" Philip stopped as he caught Ian’s cold gaze.

Ian turned away and said, "Got it as payment for the request."

"Oh... I see. Well, since we’ve met, let’s have a drink." The one-eyed man gestured to a subordinate. He pulled out two wooden cups and filled them with liquor to bring over. Ian took a sip from the cup he was handed.

"This is pretty good," said Ian.

"It should be. We may skimp on other things, but never on alcohol." The mercenaries raised their cups, laughing.

Philip, who had laid out some dried meat next to the fire, also picked up a cup.

Ian then gestured, "Bring that cup here."

"Excuse me...?" Philip asked.

"You know what they say, respect your elders. Place it in front," said Ian.

"...Yes." Philip sullenly placed the cup in front of Ian.

"Quite harsh with your subordinate." The one-eyed man laughed.

"He’s not a subordinate. Just a young one with a lot to learn." Ian downed his liquor in one gulp and then grabbed Philip’s cup. Ian continued, "He doesn’t really know the basics."

"Oh? And what might those basics be?" the one-eyed man asked.

"Well, simple things. Like not accepting food from strangers," Ian replied.

"...." As the one-eyed man’s brows twitched, Ian took another casual sip and then spoke up.

"Philip. Look ahead," said Ian.

With a puzzled expression as if wondering what Ian meant, Philip instinctively looked forward.

"Those two are for you to handle," said Ian.

"Me...?" As Philip’s head tilted in confusion, the men’s expressions began to cool.

"Two? Ha, just two? You’re taking on the rest?" A smile eventually spread across the one-eyed man’s face, which had momentarily stiffened.

"That’s right," said Ian.

Following the one-eyed man, the others also let out a snickering laugh, "What a funny joke."

"Why? Think I can’t handle it?" Ian asked.

"Obviously," the one-eyed man replied.

"Because I’ve been poisoned?" said Ian.

The one-eyed man shrugged off with a laugh, and only then did horror spread across Philip’s face. Ian turned to look at the one-eyed man as he put down his cup.

"Then shouldn’t you be wondering why I’m still perfectly fine?" said Ian.

"The poison must not have taken effect yet. What you drank could knock out an elephant,” the one-eyed man replied.

"Ever actually seen an elephant?" Ian asked.

"Have you? Pfft... huh...?" The one-eyed man’s laughter gradually faded as he noticed Ian’s gaze was too calm. By experience, Ian should have been vomiting or sweating profusely by now. Just as his smile was about to stiffen,

Whoosh!

Ian, moving like lightning, struck with his left hand. A dagger, rarely drawn, traced a crimson line across the one-eyed man’s cheek, eye, and forehead.

"Aaah! My eyes!" Now blinded, the one-eyed man screamed and fell.

His subordinates caught off guard, scrambled up, throwing their cups in a delayed reaction. But Ian had already thrown the dagger he had raised.

Thwack.

"Aaah!" The dagger was deeply embedded into one man’s forearm.

"Fuck...! Kill him!"

"Die!"

The remaining three lunged at once. Ironically, the two Ian had assigned to Philip rushed at Philip, likely thinking to eliminate the weaker opponent first.

Ian, undisturbed, watched the one charging at himself. The attacker leaped, swinging his sword down with all his might. Ian drew the Sword of Judgement.

Clang.

The attacker’s sword shattered upon contact with the Sword of Judgement.

"What...?" As the man stood dumbfounded,

Crack!

The Sword of Judgement plunged deep from the man’s neck down to his chest. Blood spurted out a beat too late. Ian kicked the dying thug away, pulled the dagger from the forearm of the other, and advanced toward the staggered opponent.

"Oh, don’t come...! Don’t come any closer!" The man cried out.

"You seem experienced in this. The ones you’ve killed probably said the same." Ian, with an even tone, stared directly into the man’s eyes.

"Weren’t you there then?" asked Ian.

"This fucking... shit!" the man exclaimed.

Thwack!

The man, propelled forward, had the sword thrust into the center of his chest. As Ian withdrew the blade, the thug collapsed with a gurgling breath, blood splattering Ian.

...Not as clean as Mev would have managed, thinking this, Ian picked up the dropped dagger. It was then that Philip, tangled with the other two, finally managed to create some distance.

"My lord! If you’re done, please help me! I’m going to die at this rate!" Philip cried out.

The faces of the two facing Philip were belatedly filled with terror. Aside from the captain who was still screaming, his two comrades had already died within that brief moment.

"Too bad, isn’t it?" Ian shrugged his shoulders shortly after.

"What do you mean it’s too bad?" Philip, just like the two robbers, widened his eyes in surprise.

After shaking off the blood from the Sword of Judgement, Ian, reclaiming his sword, said, "I told you those two were your responsibility."

"But, that, you did say so but" Philip’s voice trailed off.

"Both of you think carefully now. If you attack me, and you die. Also if you run away, and you die. So, fight this guy instead," said Ian.

"So, you’ll let us live if we do...?" One of the robbers asked.

"Seems like something you should ask after you win," Ian shrugged again.

"My lord, are you seriously saying-"

"Dieeee!"

"Aaaaah!"

Philip’s voice was drowned out by the charging robbers’ cries. Shouts and screams, the clash of swords and shields violently continued. However, Ian moved away without even glancing their way. Of course, it was not that he disliked Philip or wished for his death.

Despite being clueless and fearful, in this world, Philip was one of the rare humans who was earnest and had a sense of loyalty. But watching over him throughout the journey was a different matter. As long as they were together, Philip needed to pull his own weight. Given his hidden skills, he should be more than capable of handling two injured mercenaries.

If he were to die by such hands, better now than later, thought Ian. Ian approached the now blind leader. The man was whimpering in pain but still trying to crawl away.

Thud.

The dagger Ian threw pinned the man’s hand to the ground.

"Aaack! You, bastard!" The man screamed, clutching his wrist.

"You started with the poison, didn’t you? If you planned on killing, you should’ve been prepared to die." Standing right in front of him, Ian snorted.

The blind leader desperately started speaking. "We, we didn’t mean to kill...! Just to knock you out! We were only going to rob you!"

"Really...?" Ian turned, holding the cup Philip had handed him, and gripped the dagger embedded in the leader’s hand.

"Ugh, Aaack...!" Twisting the dagger elicited another scream from the man, "Cough, Ack... Huh?!"

Ian poured the drink into his open mouth. The man swallowed in shock, then his expression turned to horror.

"Just supposed to knock you out, right? Well, if that’s true, I’ll let you live," Ian smiled.

"You, you damn asshole, Cough... Gack...!" The leader’s face reddened as he spat out insults, soon overtaken by pain. After writhing in agony, he eventually vomited blood and became still.

"If you had told the truth, you could have gone without pain." Ian clicked his tongue in lament. Ian felt a sharpness inside, a strong poison indeed, but not enough to overcome Ian’s resistance.

To survive against the foes of Chapter Four, Ian had upgraded his universal skill, Primeval Resistance, to level three. It made him nearly impervious to most status ailments, though it was admittedly an overinvestment.

"Oh," Cleaning the retrieved dagger on the blind man’s clothes, Ian turned at a sound from behind.

One of the robbers was falling, blood spraying, taken down by a deadly counterattack from Philip, who had defended with his shield.

That’s more like it, Ian murmured to himself. Ian sat on the stone by the campfire where the one-eyed man had been seated.

"...Shame there’s no popcorn." Ian leisurely picked up a piece of dried meat, watching the ongoing fight unfold.