I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Chapter 342

"It’s our luck to be in the front. We’ll hear the Great Warrior’s speech up close."

"For now, yeah. But when we march, we’ll be at the back. By then, you’ll probably envy those further back."

"Well, we’ll worry about that when the time comes."

More than a hundred warriors were already lined up in the square, and more continued to enter, gripping spears or axes in their hands. Each warrior wore thick cloaks made of animal or monster hides, fully armed with the best equipment they had.

"Keep the rows straight! No running!"

Riders on horseback patrolled the rear of the square, shouting at the warriors to maintain order. These riders, a mere twenty or so, were the elite captains, including the centurions. With the rest of the horses reserved for pulling supply wagons, the number of mounts was minimal.

Farther back, supply wagons stood in a neat line along the road leading to the main gate, ready to depart.

I thought they’d be a disorganized rabble, but this is more structured than I expected.

It was clear the elders had played a significant role in organizing the troops. Most of them had been conscripted into the Northern Army during the age of war, bearing permanent scars and injuries from that time.

"... The Great Warrior is watching."

"He doesn’t tolerate chaos. Let’s make sure anyone acting out gets a proper smack to the back of the head."

The centurions, sharp-eyed and vigilant, muttered among themselves. A few of them made eye contact with Ian and quickly bowed their heads respectfully.

The centurions had been chosen through arm wrestling matches between the village leaders. Those dissatisfied with the results had their grievances settled through duels. Ultimately, Ian appointed the final six who remained.

"Majestic... Must be what Karha looked like."

"The Great Warrior’s true prowess only shows in battle. To fight alongside him again... I’d die with no regrets."

Meanwhile, the square was more than half full. The warriors, lined up like chess pieces, couldn’t take their eyes off Ian, who stood with his back to the sacred brazier.

It’s overwhelming just to stand here.

Seeing the sheer dedication in their eyes, Ian couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility creeping in—a feeling he’d tried so hard to avoid ever since falling into this world.

"Coming through, coming through! Don’t glare at me, I’m just finding my spot!"

Through the crowd, Miguel emerged, his hooded cloak pulled low over his face. In one hand, he held the reins of two horses, leading them forward.

Following behind on horseback, Kanto cast a disapproving glance at Miguel’s bustling demeanor but said nothing.

"What a sight already," Miguel muttered, clearly unaffected by Kanto’s irritation. His gaze wandered over the gathering warriors, his face filled with awe and excitement. The thought of marching to the most dangerous battlefield didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest—for now, at least.

And that sentiment seemed to be shared by everyone in the square.

Truly, a person born for battle.

For these warriors, the prospect of death after a ferocious fight wasn’t something to fear. Karha himself awaited them in the afterlife. What they truly feared was the slow decay of life without purpose or the chance to fight.

Miguel and Kanto stopped at the far-left edge of the platform. As Kanto handed Ian the reins, he offered a respectful bow.

"You’re out here earlier than I expected, brother."

"Why are you whispering?" Ian asked.

"Ah, well... it just feels like everyone’s watching. Mind if I join you for a moment?"

Miguel clambered up onto the platform with some effort. Like Lucia, he was equipped with new armor beneath his cloak, and the prosthetic arm on his left side appeared entirely natural.

Passing behind Ian, Miguel stopped near the altar where Lucia was deep in prayer, ready to support her when she inevitably collapsed from exhaustion.

"Seeing it from here makes it even more impressive," Miguel murmured, taking in the warriors gathering in the square. Then, in a hushed tone, he added, "I’ve said it before, but just accomplishing this much already makes you a legend, brother."

"Results have to be good for it to count as an accomplishment," Ian replied.

"Well," Miguel said with a sly grin, "if you die, you become a legend. If you survive, you make history."

Since when does he spout such profound lines?

Ian glanced at Miguel in surprise.

Catching his gaze, Miguel awkwardly chuckled. "Maybe it’s because I’ve been spending too much time around those old geezers. I’ve started sounding like a proper priest without even realizing it."

Kanto’s arrival had proven unexpectedly helpful; he had systematically documented and organized everything about the city. These records were intended for submission to the Autonomous Territories, the Empire, and the Order. Assisting Kanto had forced Miguel to run around the elders constantly, gathering precise information.

Unanimously, the council of elders had named the city Hope City, arguing it was only fitting to name it after Ian, who had built it. Although Ian had tried to refuse, his objections were overruled.

"Looks like they’re almost all here... I’ll be quiet now," Miguel said, falling silent.

Just as he said, the assembly was nearly complete. The savage warriors were arranged in neat rows, filling the square and stretching down the road toward the gates. Alongside the road, villagers stood watching, some perched on rooftops to get a better view.

"That should’ve been my spot."

"If you hadn’t coughed, you wouldn’t have been caught."

Most of the spectators on the rooftops were young warriors, their faces filled with envy as they watched the lined-up warriors and Ian. Among them was Askel, looking somewhat sullen. He seemed to have accepted his circumstances, sitting on the edge of a rooftop, but his gaze wasn’t on Ian—it was fixed on Lucia, still praying.

This kid?

Ian’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, but the sound of approaching hooves broke his thoughts.

Clip-clop.

It was Nila, adorned with new, thicker, and more luxurious winter gear that covered it entirely. It looked full of energy after her rest. Beneath its new coverings, flashes of silver armor studded with freshly fitted magic stones gleamed faintly.

Walking beside her was Rigg, just as Ian had instructed, not holding her reins. He and a group of children—presumably his friends—looked at Ian with shining eyes.

Behind them, the elders approached. Today, they were dressed like warriors, a gesture of respect for the warriors heading off to battle.

Whoosh—

Suddenly, a bright light flared from the brazier behind Ian, silencing the murmuring crowd. The brazier cast an even brighter glow, creating an almost divine halo around Ian.

"Phew..." Lucia let out a long sigh and staggered as she rose. Miguel quickly rushed up the steps to support her.

"It’s all ready, Sir Ian," she whispered as she and Miguel descended from the altar.

"Lie down and rest even for a bit," Ian replied flatly.

He could feel the divine energy condensing within the brazier and a faint presence stirring in its core. It seemed the sacred energy imbued in the greatsword served as a seal or conduit.

Lucia and Miguel descended from the platform and made their way toward Kanto. Ian followed them with his eyes briefly before turning back to face forward.

The square had fallen into an expectant silence. Hundreds of warriors stood in formation, their eyes gleaming as they gazed at him. Even the villagers were transfixed, watching him with anticipation.

Suddenly, Ian felt a warm surge from the tattoo on his left arm.

He is surely impatient for a god.

He snorted internally, shaking his head in mild exasperation. Extending his hand, he firmly grasped the hilt of the greatsword resting atop the brazier.

As soon as his fingers closed around it, a wave of warmth traveled through the hilt and surged into his body. At that moment, a quest window appeared before his eyes.

[Apostle of Lu Entre.]

It was undoubtedly a divine mission for sacred acolytes.

They never miss a chance, do they?

Without hesitation, Ian declined the quest. As the wielder of the divine ember, he knew the goddess wouldn't revoke the blessing simply for turning down a divine request.

The heat radiating from the tattoo on his arm intensified slightly as Ian decisively hoisted the greatsword high in the air.

Whoosh—

An intense wave of warmth erupted from the brazier, sweeping outward in all directions. The frigid Northern air seemed to melt into a gentle warmth.

Ian felt a surge of heat settle deep within his core, like an ember flickering inside him. It was a familiar sensation—the divine blessing of Lu Entre, enhancing elemental resistances and bolstering vitality.

"Ohhh...."

"What... what is this...?"

A wave of hushed gasps rippled through the warriors and villagers. The same blessing must have been bestowed upon all of them.

How generous of him.

Ian's lips curved into a faint smile. For a forced march, there couldn’t have been a more suitable blessing. Of course, their awe wasn’t just due to the blessing itself.

"The Northern Superhuman,"

"The Great Warrior..."

The white flames flickering along the blade of Ian’s upraised greatsword captivated everyone’s gaze.

It was the White Blaze, a newly activated divine skill. Beside the information window was a number indicating the remaining divine power—fuel for the skill.

The flames consumed the divine energy embedded within the greatsword itself, burning it as a source. Once entirely depleted, the skill would vanish permanently.

Blaze, huh? Maybe it’s because of the blood.

It wasn’t a question that required immediate answers.

Just as Lucia had mentioned, he wouldn’t be able to use Frost Blade while this skill was active, but that hardly mattered.

Whoosh—

Ian lowered the greatsword slightly, and the flames dancing along the blade subsided. As though that was the signal, a stillness settled over the crowd. The hundreds of warriors and villagers stared at him, their gazes steady and filled with quiet intensity. Ian took a moment to meet their eyes before speaking.

"From this moment on, two laws shall take precedence above all else."

Though his voice wasn’t raised, it resonated deeply, carrying far across the crowd. The divine power emanating from the mark on his left arm imbued his words with weight. It was as if the warriors weren’t just hearing him—they were absorbing his voice through every fiber of their being.

"Fight with all your might to defend the North. And, survive."

With those words, Ian raised the greatsword high, gripping it firmly with one hand.

In a calm yet commanding tone, he asked, "I ask you—will you follow?"

The response came immediately.

"We will follow!"

"We will follow, Great Warrior!"

The thunderous shouts seemed to sweep away the warmth that enveloped the city. Thud, thud—each warrior stomped the ground or struck the shafts of their spears in unison.

The rhythmic roar came to an abrupt halt the moment Ian lowered the greatsword he had raised.

Turning to face the warriors, Ian allowed a faint smirk to curl at the edge of his lips as he added, "Then save your strength and get moving. From now on, it's a race against time."

At the same moment, one of the centurions blew a long note on a horn. The rear guard warriors rushed toward the supply wagons, while all the warriors assembled in the square pivoted sharply and began marching out. The centurions, catching Ian's gaze, spurred their mounts to lead their units in an orderly manner.

Clip-clop—clip-clop—

Nila stepped forward alone, halting just before the platform.

Ian noticed a faint shimmer of heat flickering in the beast’s eyes.

Did he bless the mounts, too? Truly generous, Ian mused, letting out a dry chuckle.

He drove the greatsword into the ground, using it as a lever to mount Nila’s back. Even with Ian's weight and the massive blade in hand, the beast showed no signs of faltering, merely huffing once before striding forward.

"Ohhhh!"

"The Northern Superhuman—"

The young warriors perched on rooftops began leaping to their feet, shouting in unison. Their battle cries spread to the villagers and elders, cascading into a chorus of cheers to send off the Great Warrior and his army.

Ian cast a brief glance back at them before snapping the reins.

Clatter—clatter—

Nila dashed forward as if it had been eagerly awaiting the signal.

"Ugh... it’s exhilarating, sure, but a forced march at my age? My tailbone is already aching," Miguel grumbled, shifting uncomfortably on his saddle.

"Trust in the blessing, Miguel. It’ll keep you going until the very core burns out."

"Not sure that’s what a follower of the Burning Goddess ought to say. Have some passion, Priest Miguel."

The three mounted battle priests exchanged these words casually as they trailed behind the marching warriors.

"However..." Kanto’s brow furrowed slightly, a thought occurred to him only moments later. "Where has the Agent of the Saint placed his greatsword?"

His sharp gaze landed on Ian, who was galloping ahead of the column. The massive blade, which had been in Ian’s hand just moments ago, was nowhere to be seen.

Apart from Kanto, no one else seemed to have noticed yet.

Lucia and Miguel exchanged glances, their silence laden with realization. Without another word, they both snapped their reins, spurring their mounts into a gallop.