I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

Chapter 313

A spacious office with thick, navy-blue brocade carpeted the floor. The sharp sunlight filtered in through a series of windows along the wall, casting geometric shadows across the room.

"So, he’s left without even setting foot in the Great Church, let alone the Sacred Land."

At the far end, a middle-aged man, seated at a stately wooden desk, murmured with a hint of displeasure. He had neatly combed back graying hair, and he adorned himself with a fine ceremonial robe embroidered with golden prayer scripts and the symbol of Lu Solar. Behind his antique chair hung a golden circle emblem on the wall.

"Yes, Archbishop," replied the Bishop, seated across from him, his white cowl embroidered with a golden insignia. Beneath the hood, his pale face wore a gentle smile.

The Archbishop clicked his tongue, wrinkling his nose slightly. "To turn his back on the Order and choose to become the Emperor’s dog. Blasphemous, through and through—fitting for a creature whose every act reeks of deceit."

The Bishop’s smile deepened slightly. "He must be aiming to stir unrest within the Order; his actions will surely spark debate."

"An Agent of the Platinum Dragon, yet he never set foot in the Sacred Land nor sought an audience with the Holy One. What justification could there possibly be?" the Archbishop scoffed.

"He has always sought the darkest corners, after all. Perhaps it’s not so surprising he would avoid a place as radiant as this." The Bishop spoke in a soft, measured tone, then paused, his eyes tracing a gentle arc as he looked at the Archbishop.

"Besides, Archbishop, he has headed to the northern front. At a time when the erosion is almost upon us, he’s chosen to throw himself back into the heart of darkness—a noble decision, albeit one made in the shadows."

The hooded Bishop nodded slowly. "I only just learned of it myself. If we accuse him of blasphemy or impiety now, it will surely backfire. The delay in announcing this move is intentional."

"Those sycophants who only seek the Emperor’s favor will rejoice, no doubt. Foolish creatures who don’t know what it means to truly serve the Radiant Goddess," the Archbishop muttered darkly.

Ian Hope. Since that false prophet had appeared, every carefully laid plan had gone awry.

As darkness spread gradually over the land, people began looking to him as their savior, though their faith belonged to the Radiant Goddess.

The Order’s internal opinions were divided, and the same was true for the Parliament. By now, they should have seized the Church’s authority over worship and, based on that, led the Round Table Parliament.

However, with Ian Hope taking the Emperor’s hand and being sent to the front lines, the Order had lost any grounds to accuse the Emperor of incompetence or irreverence. This disrupted not only the internal balance of power within the Order but also the delicate equilibrium between the royal house and the Order.

"... Indeed, his movements reflect the chaos he sows. Wherever he goes, he leaves blind followers and disorder. How can no one see this simple truth?"

"Do not hate them. They are merely blind and deaf to the truth. As you know, Archbishop."

"You seem to defend him rather often these days." The Archbishop’s brow furrowed.

"Because I wish to see him soar even higher."

"What…?" The Bishop’s words deepened the furrow in the Archbishop’s brow, but the hooded Bishop continued with a smile undeterred.

"That way, when he falls, it will be unmistakably clear to all—who truly chose the thorny path for the sake of the radiant light, who is genuinely sacrificing for an age of light, and just how riddled with contradiction and hypocrisy he truly is."

As the Bishop spoke, the Archbishop’s expression softened.

"…You’re right," he nodded finally, meeting the Bishop’s gaze. "But seeing that glorious moment will only be possible if we stay vigilant in our positions."

"Indeed, your words are wise."

"Thus, that false savior must vanish, and the true nature concealed behind his deceitful mask must be exposed."

The Bishop’s smile faltered slightly. "…Confronting him is not a wise decision, Archbishop. Especially at this moment."

"There will be no direct confrontation. Chaos must be controlled by an even greater chaos."

"…Hmm." At last, the Bishop let out a low hum of interest, his gaze urging the Archbishop to continue.

"We shall summon the Northern Crusaders and the Purification Squad, beginning with those already under our influence. I will handle persuading His Holiness."

A knowing smile crept onto the Archbishop’s lips. "With the Northern superhuman in the North, what is there to fear? Besides, the front lines are always short on manpower."

"If we present it as a strategy to disperse forces across the front lines, it seems likely to succeed." The Bishop nodded thoughtfully, meeting the Archbishop’s gaze. "If it were me, I’d send our Crusaders to the southern front. Yielding the eastern front would likely help convince His Holiness even more effectively."

"Wise indeed... Yes, as always, your advice lights the way."

The Archbishop leaned back into his chair with a murmur, while the Bishop tilted his head slightly.

"However, I didn’t come today just to offer advice."

"It sounds like you have a proposal to make."

"The false prophet’s knight entered the Great Church, did he not?"

"The Saint’s Knight… So, you had business with him." The Archbishop’s mouth twisted into a smirk.

Gazing into the sunlight streaming into the chamber, he murmured, "There is nothing to say except that the Goddess is truly merciful, bestowing grace even upon the blind who serve a false savior. And right before all eyes, no less. I hear he is currently undergoing the initiation ritual."

"Indeed. They say he is very humble and devout."

"If you’re suggesting we exclude him, that won’t be possible. He’s already drawn considerable attention, and we can’t afford to give them any reason."

"I am not here to suggest we exclude him."

The Archbishop’s brow furrowed slightly at the Bishop’s response.

"Then?"

"Could we not make him one of our own?"

The Archbishop paused, stroking his wrinkled chin. "He certainly has the qualifications… but it wouldn’t be easy. He has long been known as a follower of the false savior."

"We could at least try. He’s with us now, and if it fails, we can simply send him on his way."

At last, a spark of understanding flickered in the Archbishop’s eyes. He quickly grasped that, if handled discreetly and carefully, this plan held no risk.

The Archbishop murmured to himself. "If only I could make him see the truth," the Archbishop murmured to himself, "he would become a blade, not to defend the false prophet, but to strike him down."

The Bishop’s gaze drifted upward, catching the shimmer of the golden circle hanging on the wall, casting its glow in his eyes. His lips moved in a near-whisper.

"And he would be the brightest blade, proof of the Order’s purity."

***

Far to the east, a flash of light stained the sky’s heavy gray clouds with crimson.

Boom... boom…

A thunderous sound followed, almost like the roar of some enormous beast. And, in truth, it wasn’t far from the mark—it was the roar of the Black Wall itself. With the next flash, Nila, the white horse trotting along the road, let out a snort and trembled.

"It’s nothing—calm down."

Ian reached out, gently stroking the horse’s neck where it peeked through the fur-lined blanket. Nila shook its head, snorting in response. Honestly, the fact that it wasn’t panicking and bolting was admirable. Horses, after all, were naturally skittish creatures. Feeling Nila’s breathing settle, Ian glanced up, casually chewing on a piece of jerky.

His gaze landed on the ash-gray city walls looming in the distance.

Damn, it’s gloomy…

However, that was hardly a complaint. It was, after all, the first proper city he’d encountered since leaving the capital over a week ago.

As he took the road that led to the frontier and the north, travelers became almost non-existent, as if by some trick of fate. After misreading the map and venturing farther into the northwestern region than planned, this became even more pronounced. Finally, after regaining his bearings, he arrived in Burdin.

…At least, I think so.

The only other settlement he’d come across was a small, empty village, with nothing more than a short stone wall to mark its borders. It was practically a ghost town, devoid of life.

With the rising threats on the frontier, authorities restricted access and evacuated the village entirely. They moved the residents to the West and repurposed the village as an outpost for the frontier patrol.

He had found this information out from an order posted on the notice board in the center of the deserted village. Relocating an entire village overnight was a feat only the Empire could pull off, with rebuilding the West clearly being a priority.

Of course, Ian didn’t mind. For a lone traveler like him, it just meant a quiet place to rest. Unlike the frontier refugees, he didn’t have to worry about crossing paths with the patrol. Plus, collecting firewood was easy, and Elia’s seasoned rations were much better than any makeshift meal he’d find elsewhere.

It would’ve been perfect if the church had been intact.@@novelbin@@

Ian gave a low scoff, recalling the empty church, stripped of everything from its relics to the candlesticks. Regardless, his last few days had been peaceful, solitary, and even liberating—a time sufficient to recall the grim reality of the dark age. It was also something he needed to get used to again. The North, not to mention the central lands, once corruption reached them, wouldn’t be what they had been.

"Stop right there."

A guard leaning against the main gate drawled as Ian and Nila approached. The guard’s helmet sat crookedly on his head, and he gave Ian and his horse a casual glance before muttering,

"Are you a mercenary?"

"I’m a traveler heading to the North. I’ll be leaving after a day’s stay."

"A traveler... in times like these?"

The guard scratched his chin, appearing to consider whether he should ask for identification. Ian caught the flicker in his eyes and, with a quick flick of his fingers, tossed a silver coin in a graceful arc that landed in the guard’s palm.

"Judging by your skill, you’re indeed a traveler."

The guard, pocketing the coin with a grin that revealed yellowed teeth, gave a nod—a look that reminded Ian he was well into frontier territory.

"First time in Burdin, is it? If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

Looks like I’ve come to the right place, Ian thought as he replied.

"Where are the stable and the church?"

"The stable is just to the right after passing through the gate. The church is at the crossroads in the center of town. It’s got a spire, so you won’t miss it."

"And the inn?"

"Head down the main road west of the church, then turn down the alley. They’ll have a room or two available."

"Seems there are quite a few travelers like me around."

The guard chuckled under his breath. "Most of ‘em came to make some coin, ended up sticking around or waiting to sneak back across the border. Frontier crossings are illegal these days, you know."

Ah, mercenaries, Ian mused, nodding.

"You’re lucky. These days, we close the gates at sundown and don’t open them until morning. Especially on nights like this. You saw it yourself, didn’t you?" The guard added as he looked Ian over again.

"Are monsters appearing?"

"Not yet, but rumors say it’s only a matter of time, so everyone’s on edge. Plenty of scavengers are waiting for it to turn real, though, like wolves circling for the kill."

Ian chuckled softly. The locals might be wary now, but within a few months, they’d be grateful to be as far from the Black Wall as possible.

"Thanks for the information."

Ian passed through the gate leisurely, glimpsing the town’s muted, gray landscape.

See, only the central cities are fit for life, he thought as he headed toward the stables. It was a sizable stable, likely bustling when travelers to and from the North were more common. Now, it seemed there weren’t many horses in residence.

"A fine horse you have, sir." The thin stable hand approached as Ian dismounted.

Ian tossed him a silver coin, adding, "Give it the best food and let it sleep in the cleanest place. It’s a clever one, so there’s no need to tie it up—it won’t cause any trouble."

"Yes, sir. How long will you be staying?"

"One night. Keep the change."

"You’ll be blessed, sir." The stable hand chuckled, heading back toward the stalls. Nila whinnied softly, as if telling Ian not to worry.

"I’ll see you in the morning," he murmured, giving it a gentle pat on its flank.

Ahead of him, the cold, damp street lay shrouded in a settling darkness. The days grew shorter as winter approached—a phenomenon as real here as in his own world, though people in this land saw it as Lu Solar’s time of rest.

Either way, there were few people to be seen in the streets, likely due to the recent foreboding signs of erosion. A palpable sense of unease blanketed the town, a far cry from the lively atmosphere of the capital.

Perhaps this city, too, would eventually face relocation. At the very least, central officials understood the importance of the people.

There it is.

Ian didn’t head straight to the inn, since he expected the helpers the Emperor had sent would wait there. There was still something he needed to finish before facing them.

"Glory to the radiant light...."

Ian had stepped into the church, a weathered brick building with a sharp spire. As he entered the hall, an elderly priest approached him, hands clasped in front of his chest, clearly sensing that a visit after sundown meant there was a different purpose at hand.

"I’d like to rent a large, quiet room—all to myself if possible," Ian said, handing something to the priest.

Seeing the golden glint in his palm, the priest bowed immediately.

"Follow me."

"And please ensure no one disturbs me. It’s a very important prayer that requires complete silence."

The priest nodded with a smile and led the way deeper into the church. Ian followed him at a leisurely pace.

There’s nothing that money can’t accomplish, after all, he thought, one of the few perks of life on the frontier.

"This is our largest prayer room. You can lock the door from the inside, and there’s a window you can close as well."

Past the worn corridor, the priest opened a thick wooden door—one that seemed more suited for an interrogation chamber than a place of prayer.

Ian took in the spacious interior and nodded approvingly.

"How long can I use it?"

"Just have it cleared by midnight, please." The priest who had responded turned away.

For a gold coin, shouldn’t he let me stay until morning?

Ian thought to himself as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him and sliding the bolt to cover the small window above the door.

Faint light filtered through a small window in the wall, while three candles on a sconce illuminated the spacious room, sparsely furnished with only an old desk and two chairs.

Perfect.

Nodding in approval, Ian took out a small talisman from his pocket dimension. A spark ignited in his hand moments later.

Whoosh—

The flame transferred directly onto the talisman.

Ian then tossed the talisman into the empty space of the room. It traced a long arc through the air, scattering golden sparks in every direction as it flashed brilliantly for a moment.

Shaa—

Amidst the shower of bright embers, a Mantra echoed, forming a shimmering veil of light. Without sparing a glance at the process, Ian took a seat, frowning slightly.

Why isn’t it appearing?

There was nothing in the undulating veil of light. The brightness dimmed until a faint silhouette emerged at the last moment. The light flared once more, revealing a pair of glowing golden eyes.

"...You never fail to surprise me, Ian. I didn’t expect you to summon me this soon." A voice—smooth, somewhere between masculine and feminine—followed.

Before Ian stood Archeas, the Platinum Dragon, hands clasped behind its back and dressed in pristine white robes.

A faint smile crossed Ian’s lips. "I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up—wondered if you were taking a nap."