I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

Chapter 336

Garson blinked, seemingly caught off guard, before blurting out, "T-Twenty-three."

With that face?

Ian raised an eyebrow instinctively but replied in a flat tone that didn’t match his reaction.

"You’re younger than I thought."

Images of other barbarian warriors he’d met flashed through Ian’s mind.

... Could it be that all of them are much younger than they look?

It was something he’d never questioned before, but the thought now seemed oddly plausible.

"You must be older than you look, Great Warrior," Garson added as he stared at Ian’s face before breaking into a broad grin.

"Regardless, it’s an honor! I’ve heard of your fame countless times. The true Great Warrior reborn! The Dragon Slayer who achieved what even Karha could not, breaking the chain of curses. A new superhuman!" Garson’s voice brimmed with excitement.

"Haha! That won’t do! Now that I’ve met you, I’m even more eager to have a match!" Garson burst into hearty laughter, his gaze fixed on Ian. "You’re so different from what I imagined. To confirm whether you’re truly the Great Warrior who achieved such legendary feats, I need to trade blows with you!"

Knew it...

Ian muttered to himself internally, then gestured with his chin.

"If I beat you, will the entire village follow my command as promised?"

"Of course! I swear it before Karha."

"In that case..." Ian let out a resigned sigh and shrugged off his bear-hide cloak, hanging it on Nila’s saddle.

As he did so, Garson added with a sly grin, "Would you be fine fighting barehanded?"

"Of course."

Without hesitation, Ian nodded, unbuckling the sheath at his waist and securing it to the saddle. Nila snorted, lifting its head high as if sensing the attention of the nearby warriors.

Meanwhile, Garson smirked and clenched his fist. His fist was so massive it seemed almost the size of Ian’s head.

"Step back, everyone. The sacred duel is about to begin." A hoarse voice rang out from the crowd.

It belonged to an elder with two long scars etched across his gaunt face. At his command, the villagers promptly stepped back, clearing a space.

Meanwhile, the warriors who had dismounted and held their horses’ reins nodded in acknowledgment at Ian’s gaze before stepping back. Their eyes gleamed with a peculiar anticipation—they were clearly expecting a blood-soaked duel.

Too bad that’s not my plan, Ian thought to himself, patting Nila’s neck. The horse snorted again, turning away and strolling toward the retreating warriors.

"Bear witness! Karha!" Garson roared, his voice booming across the clearing. At some point, he had tossed aside his snow leopard hide vest, fully revealing his muscular upper body.

"In your presence, I, Garson, son of Hegar, challenge your Great Warrior!"

He really is doing everything he had wanted to do, huh? And why is he stripping now?

Ian let out a short laugh, but suddenly froze. A wave of heat coursed up his left arm. Of course, it wasn’t surprising for Karha to bestow a blessing during a sacred duel.

What caught Ian off guard was that it felt different from the usual Blessing of Battle. The heat was pooling in his lower abdomen, unmistakably triggering the urge for a battle cry—something typically seen when invoking a war cry.

What, are you saying it’d be boring to only bless me?

Clicking his tongue internally, Ian didn’t resist the surging energy. He knew from experience that suppressing it would only cause unnecessary pain. Letting it erupt was the simplest way to deal with it.

"Ooohhhhhh—!"

And erupt. Ian threw back his head and roared, crimson waves of divine energy exploding from his body like shockwaves.

The villagers instinctively raised their arms to shield their faces, only to widen their eyes in awe moments later.

"This is... the Great Warrior!"

"The Northern Superhuman...!"

Gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd. Some turned to look at the crude statue of Karha, which seemed to resonate with the scene. The hastily cleared snow around it and the sword it gripped downward shimmered with the same red divine energy as if watching over the duel.

"Oh, Northern Superhuman!" A second roar rang out almost simultaneously. This time, it was Garson. Clenching his fists tightly, his entire body was now engulfed in the same crimson radiance.

The fiery light in his eyes mirrored the sheer exhilaration coursing through him.

"This power... it’s incredible!"

It was a natural reaction. His blood boiled, his body surged with inexplicable strength, and an unstoppable urge to fight consumed him.

His glowing eyes locked onto Ian, who had finished his battle cry and spat on the ground.

"This must be the secret behind all your feats, Great Warrior! Now I understand! With this power, I too could kill a dragon!"

Ian frowned slightly at the comment but responded bluntly. "So, when are you planning to start?"

"Right now—"

With a primal shout, Garson launched himself forward. His body was overflowing with strength, the ground trembling under his feet as he kicked off with such force it felt like the earth itself quaked.

Despite the distance between them, he closed in on Ian in an instant. Fixing his gaze on Ian’s impassive face, Garson thrust his fist forward almost instinctively.

Swish—

His punch tore through the air with a deafening sound, as if ripping the atmosphere apart. It felt powerful enough to shatter a boulder.

At the same time, anticipation and excitement mingled within him. He expected the Great Warrior to meet his strike head-on, allowing him to unleash this surging energy to its fullest.

Whoosh—

However, Ian leaned his head back and twisted his body to the side with precision, avoiding the blow almost effortlessly.

He dodged...?

Garson felt his fist narrowly miss Ian’s face, his eyes widening in disbelief. Before he could even process it, Ian twisted his body and sent a punch aimed straight at Garson’s jaw.

Swish—

The punch seemed light compared to Garson’s, but given his momentum hurtling him toward Ian at full speed, and that Ian’s body was also imbued with the same crimson divine energy, Garson knew that if that punch connected, it would knock him out cold.

Without even finishing the thought, Garson instinctively raised his left hand to shield his face.

Thwack!

The sound was like a leather drum splitting. Pain shot through his palm as Ian’s fist connected, and Garson reflexively grabbed hold of Ian’s small but unyielding hand. Crushing it should have been an effortless task.

"...!"

Garson’s brow furrowed almost immediately. Not only could he not crush Ian’s fist, but he couldn’t even push it back. Instead, it felt as though he’d slammed into an immovable wall, and the force of his charge had abruptly slowed.

Crunch—

Ian’s feet slid back slightly in the dirt as he absorbed Garson’s momentum. Garson’s face pressed against the back of the hand he used to hold Ian’s fist. His right hand, still outstretched from his initial punch, remained frozen in midair, forgotten.

I can’t push him back? This doesn’t make sense.

Garson’s teeth clenched as disbelief flickered in his widened eyes. He tightened his grip and mustered more strength to shove Ian away. At the same time, he drew right hand, intending to bring it crashing down on Ian’s neck.

Thunk—

However, before he could, Ian’s left hand darted out, grabbing Garson’s forearm with an iron grip.

Garson’s eyes widened further as Ian pushed upward, forcing his arm high. Garson resisted, bracing himself to avoid being overpowered. Pushing his arm aside would leave his right flank entirely exposed—a fatal mistake for a warrior.

But more than that, it was his pride as a warrior that wouldn’t let him yield.

Crack—Crack...

The frozen earth beneath their feet groaned under the pressure, faint cracks spreading outward. Garson’s arm trembled violently as the pressure slowly forced it upward. He couldn’t break free of Ian’s grip.

Impossible...

Garson’s bloodshot eyes now gleamed with shock. He was giving it everything he had—every ounce of strength in his body—and yet, nothing changed.

Ian’s expression remained similarly unyielding. His jaw and cheek muscles tightened as if he were clenching his teeth, but that was the only visible strain.

As Ian’s left hand pushed higher and his right fist continued to press against Garson’s face, the latter’s right knee buckled under the weight, slowly sinking to the ground.

Crunch—Crunch—

This was far from what Garson had expected. He had imagined a glorious duel where they’d trade blows, blood and sweat flying as they tested each other’s strength.

What he couldn’t understand was why he couldn’t overpower Ian. Ian’s divine energy felt no different from his own, and physically, Ian’s frame wasn’t significantly larger than his.

"How is this... possible...?" Garson gritted out, his voice trembling.

"... I’m just." Ian, staring down at him with steady eyes, replied in a similarly low, constrained tone. "Stronger than you."

Garson’s eyes widened in shock. At some point, both his knees had hit the ground. The sheer effort of holding up against Ian’s strength left him utterly drained, unable to muster any sort of counterattack.

"This isn’t... what I wanted..."

Before Garson could finish his sentence, Ian abruptly swung his right fist to the side. The motion knocked Garson’s left arm away, sending it flailing.

Garson gasped sharply, catching sight of Ian lifting his arm once more.

"When you fight in the future, keep your mouth shut," Ian said, his words landing like a lesson.

As he finished speaking, Ian’s open hand came down.

Swoosh—Crack!

With a sound that seemed impossible to have come from a human neck, Garson’s head snapped sharply to the side. Ian’s hand had struck deep between Garson’s neck and collarbone, delivering a decisive blow.

Garson’s eyes rolled upward as the strength drained from his body, and in that instant, his form went limp.

Rustle—

The crimson divine energy, which had already waned the moment his fighting spirit broke, scattered like dust. Ian released Garson’s right arm, letting him collapse fully to the ground. The unconscious warrior’s face sank into the dirt as his body lay sprawled.

"Phew..."

Ian exhaled deeply, finally letting go of the breath he’d been holding. He flexed his hands, still tingling from the impact, and looked down at the collapsed Garson.

A mixture of blood and saliva dripped from Garson’s slackened jaw, but he was still breathing steadily.

Keeping them alive is always the harder part, Ian mused, snorting softly.

The only reason he’d chosen a contest of strength rather than a straightforward fight was to avoid killing or seriously injuring Garson. Unless it was absolutely unavoidable, Ian didn’t want to lose someone with this level of potential.

I mean, I knew I could pull it off, but still...

Ian glanced at the cracked, frozen ground beneath his feet and let out a quiet laugh.

It turns out I really am stronger.

He had suspected as much after enduring the charge of a mutant ogre, but now it was undeniable—his raw physical strength surpassed that of most barbarian warriors. Even with the same divine blessing, there was a clear gap between them. The same seemed true of his reflexes and reaction speed. While he couldn’t confirm it, his endurance likely exceeded theirs as well.

... I don’t know whether I should be happy about this.

Ian clicked his tongue and finally looked up.

A deathly silence hung over the square, so profound that even a pin drop would have been audible. No one had expected the duel to end so quickly—or so one-sidedly. Even among the warriors who had accompanied Ian, several stood slack-jawed, having never witnessed him fight before. Only Volber and one other warrior wore faint, nostalgic smiles, seemingly recalling past battles.

Ian scanned the crowd before speaking.

"Does anyone contest the result?"

Of course, no one did.

"Great Warrior..."

"We shall follow you, O Superhuman."

The villagers bowed their heads deeply, showing their respect to the Great Warrior of the North.

Nodding, Ian gestured toward the unconscious Garson.

"Take him and let him rest. Once he wakes, prepare to relocate immediately."

The villagers exchanged glances before the two warriors stepped forward, bowing slightly before moving to carry Garson away. Ian watched them for a moment but then paused.

Rustle—

As the divine energy surrounding his body dissipated, a faint sound echoed in his ears, as though someone was clicking their tongue.

It seemed Ian was the only one who heard it. His gaze turned toward the statue of Karha at the edge of the square.

What, are you annoyed I won too easily?

The divine energy that had once surrounded the statue’s sword was already gone. Only the faint glow of crimson light remained in its eyes, flickering briefly as if locking eyes with Ian before vanishing entirely.

No way...

Ian’s expression darkened slightly, his brow furrowing.

... This isn’t going to happen in every village I go to, is it?