I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Chapter 357

I guess I worried about nothing.

Miguel let out a hollow chuckle and turned his gaze forward. The fiery glow of the sacred fire’s veil illuminated the battlefield ahead, flickering like an inferno.

Crackle—snap!

Ian’s figure came into sharper focus, his back turned to the soldiers as arcs of lightning streaked upward from his raised hand.

Ian held a massive greatsword in his right hand, its weight causing it to hang low, while his entire body radiated a crimson divine aura. From behind, he looked less like a mage and more like the avatar of a god commanding thunder and lightning.

Honestly, it wouldn’t be strange if he really was a demigod.

A mage beloved by the gods, chosen as the Superhuman of the God of Battle. Having spent years surrounded by the scent of ink in the temple, Miguel understood better than most how utterly absurd that was.

Even Lucia still clung to the belief that Ian was the mythical White Mage of legend. However, Miguel didn’t question it anymore. Ian was called a transcendent because he made the impossible possible.

Crackle...

At that moment, the lightning Ian had been channeling subsided. Though the storm of bolts still raged in the sky, raining destruction upon the swarm, charred Abyssal Maws continued to plummet to the ground, scattering acrid smoke as they fell.

Rustle—swish!

Despite this, a considerable number of the creatures remained.

"Screech!"

"Graaaaahh!"

Their shrill cries, like claws scraping against one’s mind, grew louder as they drew closer.

Even so, none of the monsters targeted Ian directly. Perhaps they were too late to dive at him, or maybe the radiant light of the sacred fire streaming down like a fountain blinded them.

While Miguel swallowed hard, his throat dry, the legionnaires roared above the din, raising their weapons high.

"They’re coming! Prepare yourselves!"

"Do not disgrace yourselves before the Great Warrior!"

"For the Great Warrior of Thunder!"

The crimson divinity enveloping their bodies flared even brighter. The priests, suppressing their awe, closed their eyes and resumed their prayers.

Lucia, too, extended her right hand higher, fingers splayed wide as she invoked her power. "O flames of passion that burn away the vile darkness within.."

The radiant light of the sacred flame, cascading like a fountain, grew even more brilliant.

It was just then that the swarm of Abyssal Maws reached the veil.

Rumble—whoosh!

The fiercely shimmering veil of flame neither repelled nor blocked the creatures.

"Kreeaaah!"

"Gyaaah!"

Instead, it turned everything that crossed into it into fiery infernos. The shrieking Abyssal Maws flailed their burning wings, their cries echoing chaotically in every direction.

Crash! Crackle! Snap!

The soldiers’ spears, thrust with precision and force, met the gaping maws of the creature head-on.

"Stab them—"

The spearheads skewered the burning monsters like roasting spits. Then, other soldiers lunged in, their blades ripping through the creatures’ bodies with brutal efficiency.

"Keep stabbing until they’re dead!"

"Watch for the tendrils—cut them off!"

"You filthy bastards!"

The Abyssal Maws, cloaked in the sacred fire, were unable to resist effectively. Once a mutilated creature went limp, the soldiers tossed it aside, either into the sacred fire’s veil or out beyond the defensive line like discarded trash.

"Screech—"

Axes and blades rained down, swiftly dispatching those who fell nearby. The legionnaires charged without hesitation, cutting and stabbing until every movement ceased.

Crash! Crackle!

The orange flames consuming the Abyssal Maws never spread to the soldiers. Instead, they seemed to resonate with the Blessing of Battle, intensifying the warriors’ vigor and heating their blood.

"These things die if you skewer them—keep stabbing!"

"Come on, you void demons—let’s end this!"

Between the roaring fire, the flashing storm, and the flailing, burning monsters, the soldiers’ battle cries resounded fiercely.

"Damn, it's bloody." From the driver’s seat of the wagon, Miguel took in the chaotic scene before him, his eyes wide with awe. His gaze shifted forward again—to Ian, who stood just beyond the veil of flames, raising his glowing left hand once more.

Crackle—

Another massive bolt of lightning burst forth, scattering into countless arcs that rippled across the battlefield, adding to the already overwhelming chaos.

"What a sight." Miguel let out a soft, bemused laugh. He couldn’t help but feel out of place here—a mere mortal untouched by the blessings or the favor of the gods.

But that didn’t mean he was entirely powerless. After all, he was here, standing at the heart of it all, witnessing the feats of the Great Warrior of the North, his legion, and the priests led by the next Saintess. He observed it all without being swept away by the ecstasy or fervor born of grace, favor, or blessings.

And after all, all legends and myths began as the stories of unnamed witnesses.

If only I could survive until the end of this battle.

Miguel resolved he would become that nameless witness, chronicling what he had seen. Of course, like many legends, he’d add a bit of spice to the story.

***

The cacophony of roars, flashes, and screams gradually faded.

Rumble—

The storm clouds that had been pouring down lightning dissipated with one final, dying flash.

The Abyssal Maws that had once darkened the skies were gone—not a single one remained.

"It’s over!"

"Ooooh! We’ve defeated the void demons!"

"All hail the Great Warrior of Thunder!"

After a brief, stunned silence, the soldiers erupted into cheers.

At nearly the same moment, Ian let out an inaudible sigh. Ian leaned against the massive greatsword he had planted in the ground, shaking his head lightly. A pounding headache and dizziness surged through him as if someone were driving a spike through his temples. It was the price of exhausting too much magic in such a short period.

That was close. Damn.

The largest drain, of course, came from the Thunderbolt Cloud. It was an advanced level gray magic spell he had learned long ago but had no chance to use. Amplified by chaos energy and the gemstone he wielded, it had evolved into a wide-area spell rivaling high level magic like Thunderbolt Storm.

Maintaining it, however, proved costly. Combined with the repeated casting of Chain Lightning, it was a miracle he hadn’t fallen into magic exhaustion. Still, it had been worth it—the legion had emerged from the battle with almost no casualties.

It looks like I wouldn’t need to explain myself too much.

Ian turned to survey the legion, who were roaring in celebration of their victory. Some of the phrases they shouted—clearly directed at him—were irritating, but their reaction was far more positive than he had feared. They didn’t seem to have noticed that chaos energy had been woven into the magic.

Not everyone was unperturbed, though. As the sacred fire’s veil dimmed, the priests standing around the brazier came into clear view. Their expressions were a mix of shock and confusion as they stared at Ian.

Among them, Lucia’s gaze held a trace of worry, while Miguel wore a knowing smile. When their eyes met Ian’s, both of them nodded, as if to say, Don’t worry—we’ll handle this.

Good. Nila, too, is holding steady.

Ian cast a brief glance at Nila, standing firmly beside the wagon, before finally speaking. "Silence."

The air quaked with his command, and the deafening cheers of the soldiers ceased abruptly, as if cut by a blade. The warriors’ gazes burned with intensity as they turned to him. It seemed the talk of him being a demigod, the son of thunder and lightning, wasn’t just empty words after all.

Another myth about my origin is about to be born, Ian thought.

"Nothing is over yet. That passage in the sky must be closed. So, keep—" He paused abruptly, his sharp gaze snapping forward.

Whoosh, whoosh—

The unmistakable sound of wings came from beyond the swirling black mist. The faint violet glow of Abyssal Maw’s tendrils and wings shimmered anew in the haze.

Ah, of course. Not all of them died.

It appeared that the earlier attacks had paralyzed some. After all, the lightning hadn’t directly hit plenty of them. Ian clicked his tongue in irritation and reached for his greatsword.

"Go ahead, Commander!" Lucia’s urgent voice rang out. She placed her left hand over her chest again and quickly continued, "Just as you said, closing that passage is the priority! I have a bad feeling about it. Do what you need to do—we’ll handle things here!"

"Go, Great Warrior!"

"We’ll cut through everything and follow your path!"

The centurions and soldiers took up her cry, their voices resolute. At the same time, Lucia raised her right hand to the sky.

Fwoosh—

The sacred fire surged upward, once again forming a blazing veil like a fountain. The surging fire was clearly intended to distract the Abyssal Maws and any other creatures still lurking.

Ian’s lips curled slightly in a faint smirk as he muttered, "Fine. But don’t stop—follow me."

Miguel, catching Ian’s gaze, gave a firm nod. As the soldiers readjusted their grips on their weapons, Ian spun around and began sprinting without hesitation.

Tap, tap, tap—

He dashed past the scattered remains of charred Abyssal Maws and those still burning as they struggled to rise and take flight once more.

"Advance! All units, forward!" Miguel’s shout rang out, followed by the resonant blast of a horn.

Thud, thud.

The sound of synchronized footfalls echoed through the mist as the legion began their march, their formation cutting steadily forward.

They say the best training is in the field.

A faint curve tugged at one corner of Ian’s lips. The reassurance of having the legion guarding his back was a unique comfort, different from fighting alongside comrades. Of course, he didn’t let the thought linger.

Ian’s expression returned to its usual impassive state as he pushed himself to run faster. Lucia was right—dealing with the vortex was the priority.

Even after annihilating the swarm of void insects, the sense of foreboding lingering in the air hadn’t diminished. If anything, it had grown stronger.

So, this wasn’t just some reckless portal opening.

He raised his gaze to the swirling violet eye of the vortex above. The sky felt unnaturally close, and the vortex seemed even larger than before.

Swoosh—

Balls of fire emerged from the violet haze streaking across the sky, followed by hordes of grotesque creatures resembling half-formed pterodactyls. They scattered into the distance, heading beyond the valley, likely toward another battlefield.

It was clear these creatures weren’t under any form of control. They were likely residual byproducts of some larger ritual.

"Groooaargh—"

A piercing scream sliced through the mist, and Ian lowered his gaze sharply.

Through the activated Magic Detection, the silhouette of an approaching mutant ogre became clear, along with a horde of other monsters following behind it, running in wild disarray.

Tap, tap, tap—

Ian dropped into a lower stance and dashed past the ogre, narrowly avoiding the wild swing of its weapon.

"Screech!"

"Graaaaah!"

Thankfully, the monsters didn’t change their course to follow him. They simply shrieked and charged onward, their attention locked on the legion behind him. Those were not his problems anymore.

Ian’s focus was clear—he needed to find and eliminate the priest responsible for this chaos as quickly as possible.

Before something worse crawls out of that vortex.

Then this sense of foreboding would disappear as well, Ian was quietly certain. After that, all that would be left was to wait for the erosion to end.

Fortunately, his body was still brimming with strength. At some point, even the pounding headache had significantly subsided.

It wasn’t due to the numbing effects of the Blessing of Battle or his heightened Concentration. It was something else entirely—his magic was recovering at an astonishing speed, far faster than normal.

Is it because of the mist? Or the Black Wall’s erosion?

Either way, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that with each breath he took, magic power was accumulating rapidly. Come to think of it, even in the game, magic recovery speeds had significantly increased in certain demonic realms or beyond the Black Wall.

Of course, spamming skills back then often led to temporary status effects like magic intoxication, confusion, or disorientation.

I used to think it was just an annoying penalty that could get you killed if you weren’t careful.

Now, it seemed more like the aftereffects of absorbing corrupted magic. However, Ian didn’t need to worry about those side effects now.

Thump-thump, thump-thump—

From earlier, the fragment of chaos had been resonating, absorbing magic, only to release it again. Initially, he’d thought it was due to the black wall, but it was clear now—it was reacting to the corrupted magic in the air.

Like some kind of filter.

The thought trailed off into another realization: this might have always been how things worked before the twilight of magic descended. If so, perhaps the madness of those holed up in the magic towers was more understandable—a profound sense of loss and danger had overwhelmed them.

Zing.

That was when a Platinum Barrier flared to life around Ian’s left hand.

Woosh—

A chilling sound of air being torn apart pierced through the undulating mist.

Clang! Spark!

Golden sparks flew as the oblique edge of the Platinum Barrier deflected the blow. A violet tendril had raked across the barrier’s surface, trying to tear through it, but it left not even a scratch.

Knew it would come sooner or later.

Ian’s stance dropped lower and quickened. White flames flickered along the edge of his dangling greatsword. The hazy mist parted just enough to reveal glowing violet eyes and silhouettes, along with the arcs of tendrils streaking toward him once again.

Clang!

Ian twisted his shoulder to dodge one tendril and knocked another aside with the Platinum Barrier. As he drove his heel into the ground, he cast Wind Blade.

Whoosh!

Twisting his torso mid-air, two tendrils sliced through the air from opposite directions, grazing past his body. Raising his greatsword, Ian locked his gaze on the void creature emerging from the mist.

Standing about three meters tall, its body was a grotesque amalgamation of raw, violet muscle fibers, exposed as if skinned. Two legs, insect-like with an additional reverse joint, supported its frame. Four arms, each tipped with elongated bone blades, jutted out from its torso, along with numerous tendrils that grew haphazardly from all over its body.

Where its head should have been, only a mass of short, writhing tendrils squirmed. In the center of its chest, a massive eye blinked vertically, its elongated purple pupil rippling with a sickly glow.

It was a form seemingly designed purely for destruction and slaughter, evoking an instinctual sense of unease and terror.

Well, that's disgusting.

Ian, however, was unimpressed. He had already seen far worse monsters of the void. If anything, it resembled the creature he had faced in the game, though this one appeared smaller.

Abyssal Warden. The name from back then surfaced in his mind as Ian twisted his body further, swinging his greatsword with all his might through the gap between the retreating tendrils.

Whoosh—

The Wind Blade surged along the blade, carving a long, fiery white arc through the air.

The slash seared the mist as it raked the Abyssal Warden, leaving a trail of white flames in its wake. But Ian didn’t let his eyes stray from the advancing creature.

Even while engulfed in the White Blaze, the Abyssal Warden didn’t scream—it couldn’t. It had no mouth.

—■■ ■■!

Instead, it emitted an unsettling psychic wave. At the same time, the creature swung all four of its multi-jointed, blade-tipped arms in unison. However, Ian was faster. More specifically, his left arm was faster, enhanced by the full centrifugal force of his right arm swing.

Thud—

The blade of the Platinum Barrier drove deep into the center of the Warden’s massive eye. Ian extended his arm fully, driving the strike home. The creature’s eye burst with a sickening pop, and Ian’s left fist sank deep into the pulpy remains of its gelatinous surface.

Fuck.

Even amidst the nauseating sensation, Ian spread his fingers wide. His gray eyes shimmered, now swirling with an ominous ash-colored hue.

Boom!

The Vacuum Explosion erupted from within, obliterating the eye and crushing the creature’s chest. Its flailing blades and tendrils went slack as the Warden toppled backward.

Thud.

Ian landed atop the falling body, his left hand still buried in its destroyed eye. Around him, the corpses of other creatures lay strewn about, drained of all their fluids. Had those tendrils impaled him, he too would’ve ended up in such a grotesque state.

However, Ian spared no glance for them.

Whoosh—

A sudden gale burst forth, scattering the white trail into nothingness. The mist rolled and churned, briefly parting to reveal a striking silhouette with its wings fully spread.

Glowing violet eyes shimmered ominously. It was the griffin from the vision, now fused with the priest.

Well, nice to see you again, you bastard.

Despite sensing multiple presences rapidly closing in, Ian smirked, lifting one corner of his mouth. His gaze, locked on the griffin, burned as if lit with a fire.