I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

In a shabby shack furnished with rundown furniture,

"Mmm... Mmm...."

In the middle of the room, Bradley was struggling in a chair, with his arms and legs bound.He was gagged, with a dust-covered bag over his head.

"The choice of location is excellent," Ian said upon entering and seeing the situation.

The house was located on the very outskirts of a slum. Without the guidance of Patton and Six-Fingers, it would have been difficult to find the place.

"Unfortunately, that part wasn’t my doing. This place is where the guy enjoys secret meetings with his mistress. I just waited," Declan, leaning against a wall, laughed.

Declan then approached Bradley. Bradley stopped thrashing the moment he heard his voice. Declan removed the bag from his head.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir Bradley."

"Ptui! What is this? Where is Rose?" Once the gag was removed, Bradley spat out the saliva that had pooled in his mouth and shouted angrily.

"To dig such a trap... Can you handle the consequences when the eldest lord finds out?" said Bradley.

"That’s my worry. You should be more concerned about yourself, sir. Unfortunately, you’re not my business today," said Declan.

"What do you mean...." Bradley then noticed Ian and Philip. It seemed he had just realized they were not Declan’s men.

"Finally, we meet, Bradley.” Ian smiled.

"...Who are you? I’ve never seen you before." Bradley scowled.

As Ian approached him, he pulled out an ID badge from his pocket.

"Right. I’m seeing you for the first time too. But it seems this person knows you well?" said Ian.

"What nonsense…!” Bradley’s eyes widened as he saw the identification badge.

"You, where did you get this...?" Bradley asked.

"A ghost gave it to me. Asked me to avenge them. To find the one who killed them and buried them under the ancient tree," replied Ian.

"Ancient tree? I don’t know any—’’ Bradley’s words were cut off as Ian grabbed Bradley’s jaw. Looking at Bradley, Ian’s smile disappeared, leaving his gaze cold and steely.

"This is your last warning. I won’t ask again." Ian looked down at Bradley’s hands which were strapped to the armrests after releasing his jaw. He continued, "By whose order did you offer them as sacrifices?"

"Ancient tree? Sacrifices? What are you talking about— Ahhh!" Bradley screamed.

Ian had grabbed his little finger on the left hand and snapped it.

"Whose order was it?" Ian asked.

"You... bastard! Do you know who I am—" Bradley’s words were cut off again.

This time, the pinkie finger on the other hand was broken. Bradley glared at Declan with bloodshot eyes, screaming.

"I knew you were low and foolish. But to fall for such nonsense and commit madness— Aaah!" Bradley screamed.

Another finger was snapped. The house remained undisturbed despite the screams and cries, its isolation a contributing factor. With Patton and Six Fingers guarding the entrance, effectively deterring any would-be visitors, no one approached.

"Don’t think it will end with your fingers. Toes, ears, nose, eyes…. There are plenty of places to break, and just because they’re broken doesn’t mean they won’t be severed. Of course, you won’t be able to faint, and you’ll feel everything vividly. I guarantee it." Ian spoke in an even tone, facing Bradley again, who was now crying and drooling snot and saliva.

"Whose order was it?" Ian asked.

At the moment Ian gripped his middle finger, Bradley blurted out as if vomiting, "...The eldest lord."

"The eldest lord ordered it," said Bradley.

"Mason Burchard? Why would he give such an order?" Ian’s hand stopped.

"I don’t know... Ahhh...!" Bradley’s left middle finger was broken. Gasping for breath, he writhed in pain.

"Damn it...! We were told to block the path. He said just blocking one path from Agel Lan to Orndel would give us a strategic advantage!" said Bradley.

"Strategic advantage...?" Declan, who had been watching the scene as if attending a play, suddenly stiffened his smile.

"Does Marquess Burchard know about this?" Ian sent him a look to stay quiet and spoke.

"Of course... It was the lord’s wish. He said the time was not far off," Bradley replied.

"The time is not far off…," murmured Ian.

"That’s all I heard. I was just following orders! For the glory of Orendel, the sacrifice of those lowly beings is nothing!" Bradley spoke, veins bulging in his neck.

"Yes... War is imminent. To achieve great things, sometimes small sacrifices are necessary. Especially if it’s for independence and founding a nation." One corner of Ian’s mouth curled up.

"You understand. Damn it... I didn’t want to. But it had to be done by someone, and that someone just happened to be me," said Bradley.

"Your answers fit too neatly. As if you had prepared them in advance in case you were caught," said Ian,

Ian’s voice grew chillingly cold as he spoke, "After all. To hide the fact that you guys are corrupted, you’d need to go this far,"

"...!" Bradley’s eyebrows twitched momentarily as if he had never imagined such a thing being brought up. But that was only for a brief moment. He scowled naturally and retorted.

"Corrupt? What absurdity... Ahh!" Bradley screamed in pain. His finger was inevitably broken.

"I already knew you guys were corrupt. Stop the poor act. With a lord already corrupt, how could his trusted eldest son be innocent? Okay, let’s start over." Ian smiled coldly.

Ian continued, "What were you promised for joining them? Immortality? Power? Authority?"

Bradley’s eyes shook uncontrollably, convinced that Ian knew everything. Just as Ian was about to grip his index finger, Bradley blurted out, "How did you know? Are there others who know this fact besides you?"

"Well. I didn’t know everything," replied Ian.

"What...?" said Bradley.

"All I knew was that the eldest son of Marquess you are serving is corrupted. Now it’s clear that Marquess Burchard is also corrupt." Ian shrugged. He continued, "Thanks to what you just confirmed."

"This... you bastard...!" Bradley’s face flushed red.

"As a reward for cooperating, I’ll send you off in one go now. It’s better not to move. If you want to die peacefully in one go." Ian gagged him again.

"Mmph...!" Ian drew his Sword of Judgment.

Just as Bradley’s eyes were about to burst from congestion.

"Hold on a moment." Declan’s voice rang out. His face, which had grown increasingly tense as the conversation progressed, now looked bewildered, unable to follow the context of the conversation from a certain point.

"I don’t oppose killing him, but it seems proper to explain things to me." Declan, blocking in front of Bradley, looked at Ian with eyes devoid of laughter.

Declan continued, "Ancient tree, rebellion, independence, and now corrupted ones. What are all these about? Are you saying my father dreams of rebelling against the kingdom and has even become corrupt?"

"That’s right," Ian replied calmly.

"That’s utterly nonsensical—" said Declan.

"You’re not yet cleared of all charges. So...." Ian suddenly stopped talking. After a brief furrow of his brow, a faint sneer crossed his lips.

"Right. I guess it wasn’t just a promise," said Ian.

"What...?" Declan asked dully, and then a cracking sound echoed behind him. It was the sound of the chair restraining Bradley breaking.

Crack, crackle, cr—crackle.

A chilling sound, like bones breaking, followed. As a shadow began to rise over Declan’s head, Ian, who had rushed in like lightning, pulled him back and threw him behind.

"Protect the young master, Philip." Despite his actions, his voice remained calm.

Philip grabbed Declan’s arm, preventing him from falling to the ground.

"Stay behind me." Philip had already drawn his sword, his face set in determination.

Declan, without responding, turned around and his eyes widened as if about to tear apart.

Crack, snap, crunch.

The sight of Bradley, transforming into a grotesque figure, came into view. His muscles swelled as if proliferating, tearing the skin apart to reveal the red flesh underneath. Bradley’s angular face twisted like a tumor, becoming buried among the bulging muscles. Protrusions like the exoskeleton of crustaceans burst through his shoulders and flanks.

Swoosh.

Ian leaped over the mutating figure, his sword of retribution drawing a sharp arc as it descended.

Crackling!

The protrusions on Bradley’s shoulder blocked Ian’s sword. The blade had penetrated more than halfway but failed to cut through entirely. Bradley’s eyes, bulging as if about to burst, traced a curve.

"What a pathetic strike... Hah... Hahaha." A creepy voice tinged with low frequencies. Delight spread across Bradley’s twisted face.

Bradley continued, "Is this... power... Hah... Hahaha. How foolish I was... to fear returning to my original form in the face of such immense power...."

"Am I invisible to you, muscle freak?" Ian, hanging onto the hilt, spat out as he dangled from the protrusion.

"Of course not.... Haha, move all you want... I have no intention of sending you off comfortably...." Bradley’s smile widened.

"What a lack of creativity in your last words." Ian’s arm, gripping the hilt, tightened. A blue flame-like light began spreading along the blade.

"Holy...? Holy power...?" Bradley squinted his eyes. His eyeballs bulge out.

"That’s just as cliché." Ian, exerting all his strength, slashed down with his sword.

Flash!

Holy power exploded like a burst of light, and a blue trajectory split Bradley’s body as it fell. Ian landed on one knee after delivering the strike.

"Argh... Ah... Ahhh......." Bradley, split from shoulder to groin, fell to both sides with a stretching scream.

Covered in splattered blood and entrails, Ian stood up. He still held his light-filled sword, looking down at Bradley. Despite being split in half, the creature was still alive. A face mixed with pain and fear. No more words were added.

Crunch! Crunch! Rip!

Ian furiously struck at the twisted and enlarged muscles near the creature’s face. As the holy power faded, dark red blood splattered with each strike of the sword. Finally, Bradley’s head was severed. Ian picked up the severed head from among the mangled flesh and turned his gaze. Declan, with a stunned face, had been watching everything. Bradley’s severed head rolled to his feet.

"Do you believe it now?" Ian asked, looking at Declan.

Declan, staring at Bradley’s head, which was no longer in a human form, eventually looked back at Ian. "What are... No... What are your true identities? Are you really just mercenaries here to fulfill a quest?"

Ian’s gaze suddenly shifted to Philip, who had stepped forward. Philip declared firmly, "This is my role."

"Do as you wish." Ian began to wipe the blood off his face, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Allow me to reintroduce myself properly." In the meantime, Philip, retrieving his sword courteously, began to speak.

"Hunter of dragons from the swamps. The troubleshooter of Valk City. Beheader of werewolves and ancient trees, slayer of the headless knight, and purifier of the Tomb Forest’s blight."

Ian’s expression grew more sour by the moment. However, Philip, seemingly oblivious, continued, even allowing a faint smile to linger on his lips.

"Also, the apostle of Tir En, the executor of the southern border, and the sole and official agent of Sir Mev Riurel, the shining sword of Agel Lan. Ian Hope, at your service."

Declan, mouth agape, was unable to respond. Philip, placing a hand on his chest, gave a slight bow.

"And I am Philip, a squire to my lord."