I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

Chapter 277

The Count’s hollow cheeks became more pronounced as he smiled at Ian’s gaze.

"I can’t possibly host such distinguished guests in a place that has become a pile of ruins."

Of course. I expected him to say something like that.

Ian’s lips curled up slightly. The Count’s offer was helpful to him in multiple ways, and Ian had nothing to lose from accepting it. The merchants might not want to owe the Count any more than they already did, but that wasn’t Ian’s concern. Still, he didn’t agree immediately.

"I appreciate the offer, but I’m hesitant to leave behind the victims and the carriages. I also don’t want to cause more commotion. I think tonight’s been disruptive enough as it is."

There were a few things Ian needed to clarify beforehand. The Count nodded as if to assure him there was no need for concern.

"I’ll have the soldiers clean up the scene. We’ll restrict access to outsiders, and when dawn comes, we’ll follow the proper procedures for the funerals. There will be no need for you to be troubled. I’ll secure a private guest house just for you, with access limited to your attendants only. However…"

"I humbly request that you honor us with your presence at a banquet tomorrow night. If we fail to properly host someone as esteemed as yourself while you’re visiting the city, we will surely be labeled as uncultured brutes with no regard for courtesy or propriety."

So, this is what it means to be a true noble in the capital.

Ian chuckled inwardly as the Count added, "Please come with me. I will prepare a warm bath and a meal for you immediately."

The Count gestured toward the door with both hands.

Ian glanced over at Elia, then finally stood from his seat, pretending to give in.

"Very well. I’ll accept your hospitality."

***

I had planned to spend some quiet time as a nameless mercenary... but now things have turned out the exact opposite. Is this really alright?

As Ian thought about it over his late breakfast, a small laugh escaped him. After waking up late, taking another warm bath prepared by the servants, and now dressed in clean clothes while chewing on bread and meat, he realized this wasn’t how he intended to handle things. It wasn’t exactly new, though—things rarely went according to plan. In fact, they usually didn’t.

Even the idea that the central region was such a peaceful place where the law was strictly enforced was different from Ian’s memory and expectations.

"Are you sure you’re okay with attending the dinner tonight? I hear not just the Count’s family, but also the city’s nobles and priests will all be there," Philip’s voice came from across the table.

He had already finished his meal and was in the process of strapping on pieces of armor over his thick, quilted clothes.

Ian, still chewing on his chicken, replied, "Where did you hear that?"

"On the way back from with the merchants last night."

Unlike Ian and Elia, Philip had stayed behind at the mansion to help with the aftermath.

Ian nodded and answered, "Well, a promise is a promise. If it feels like too much of a hassle, you can stay behind."

"My presence might help divert some attention away from you. But I am a bit concerned. The count seems like the kind of man who would want to keep you in the city as long as possible. He looked like a proper nobleman to me."

"You’ll be a noble yourself once you’re knighted, you know? Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll handle it." Ian chuckled, picking up his cup as he stood from the table.

Across the room, Ian’s eyes fell on Elia, who was sitting on a bearskin rug. She was meticulously cleaning Ian’s gear with a clean cloth and some sort of oil.

"I can do that myself, you know," Ian remarked.

Elia shook her head. "No, if you want to get rid of the smell completely, I have to do it."

In truth, she was practically dismantling his equipment to clean every nook and cranny.

... Is this some kind of dwarven craftsmanship at work?

"Suit yourself, then." Ian shrugged and sat down on the sofa he had dragged near the window.

As he rinsed his mouth with wine, his gaze drifted over the cityscape outside. The Count’s estate blended into the inner fortress, and if not for the difference in brick color, it could easily be mistaken as part of the castle. The main residence, where the Count lived, had a direct connection to the fortress. The guest house, where Ian and the merchant leaders were staying, merely shared a wall with it.

Their group had the entire top floor to themselves. Despite having enough rooms for everyone, they had all naturally ended up gathering and sleeping in the largest one. Elia had expressed no opposition to this plan, either.

"Is there anything else you’d like me to do?" Philip, now almost fully armored, asked.

Ian, still looking in the mansion’s direction, replied, "They said the Alliance prepared a horse for us, right?"

"Yes, they have scheduled the joint funeral for noon, and after that, they’ll complete the cleanup. Not only the horses but about half of their goods were also damaged. Once that’s taken care of, they’ll likely wrap up the remaining discussions."

Philip had taken it upon himself to lead the funeral service, likely in his role as the Apostle of Lu Solar.

"Once the funeral is over, tell Fael to come see me. We still have matters to discuss regarding the schedule and the request. You can handle the rest."

Since last night, Ian hadn’t had a proper conversation with Fael. The leaders of the trading company had arrived at the guest house much later than Ian and left again early in the morning. Ian hadn’t sought Fael either, figuring he’d give him some time to recover from the shock. However, he wasn’t planning on waiting forever—there was still business to settle.

"Understood. I’ll let him know as soon as I see him." Philip, testing the flexibility of his joints, slung his shield over his back. After putting on his helmet, he finally turned around.

Thanks to Elia’s thorough cleaning, the armor gleamed like new.

"Well then, I’ll be off. Are we leaving tomorrow?"

"Probably. Be ready."

"No need to worry. Who do you think you’re talking to?" Philip flashed a grin through the open visor of his helmet and walked out.

Ian chuckled.

This kid. Your cheekiness just keeps growing.

The brief smile faded as Ian turned his attention back to the task at hand.

"Well, I suppose I should finish what I started."

Ian reached into his pocket dimension.

With a small thud, a leather bag dropped onto the sofa. Elia, who had been cleaning the inside of his shoulder guard, turned her head.

"What’s that?"

"The belongings of the guy who lost his head."

"...!"

Elia’s mismatched eyes sparkled. "The dark mage’s bag?"

"That’s right. Would you like to look at it?"

"... Can I?"

Elia hesitated for a moment before cautiously asking again, her expression growing more careful. The experience from the previous day had left a deep impression on her.

Ian shrugged as he untied the leather strap of the bag. "As long as you’re just looking."

Elia quickly stood up, grabbing the head of the bearskin rug and dragging it over in front of the sofa. It seemed she intended to keep cleaning the gear while watching. Meanwhile, Ian opened the bag and pulled out the first thing he saw—a folded piece of paper he had retrieved from the curse caster’s robe.

"Just as I thought..."

A smirk tugged at one side of Ian’s lips as he unfolded the paper. As expected, it detailed the instructions the corrupted mage had received to prevent the union of the guilds. It also listed the location of the Ark Caravan and some basic information about Fael. Below that were additional scrawls, likely written by the curse caster himself, including notes about Basmut and the meeting schedule.

Initially, they probably only wanted to send a warning by killing Bor...

When the warning didn’t work, the plan shifted to killing all the merchant leaders to stop the union altogether. It was a typical line of reasoning for a dark mage. There were no clues about the client, which didn’t surprise Ian in the least. In fact, if there were any clues about the client, it would have shocked Ian. Setting the paper aside, he reached back into the bag.

"You’ll probably like this one."

He pulled out a thick book, about the size of a small dictionary. As with many of these kinds of books, the ominous gray cover bore no title.

"A grimoire, I presume," Elia remarked.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Most likely. And this..."

Setting the grimoire aside, Ian took out a small leather-bound notebook, about the size of a palm, covered in reddish leather.

"This looks like his personal journal."

"Can I read it too?" Elia asked without stopping her cleaning.

Ian shrugged again. "After I go through it first. If there’s nothing concerning, then sure."

"Okay," Elia nodded without hesitation.

Experience really makes a difference, Ian thought with a faint smile as he pulled out a small leather pouch next.

"This... looks like a magic stone pouch. There’s even an essence bead in here."

Ian’s smile deepened as he looked inside. Several small and medium-sized magic stones were mixed. The essence bead was of medium grade, and none of them were corrupted.

Just in time. I was running low.

Magic stones and essence beads weren’t things you could buy endlessly, even if you had money. Nodding with satisfaction, Ian took out the money pouch as well. Inside were twenty gold coins and several silver coins. Likely for operating expenses or as an advance payment.

Tossing the money pouch into the air and catching it again, Ian reached for a rolled-up parchment that was also inside the bag.

"Well, well..." Unrolling the parchment, Ian let out a short exclamation.

From beyond the parchment, Elia’s voice followed. "What is it, Sir Ian?"

"It’s a spell circuit." Ian lowered the parchment, revealing his face, as he added, "A curse circuit for pain and madness."

"...!"

Elia’s eyes widened in surprise, and she asked cautiously, "How did you read a spell circuit? Every mage creates their circuits differently, so reading a complex one is nearly impossible unless you’re the creator."

Ah, so that’s what surprised her.

Ian shrugged his shoulders. "Just well."

In truth, Ian did not know how to read a spell circuit. He had simply checked the information window. The spell circuit was an installation-type curse that activated with the caster’s magic and was maintained using an essence bead of at least medium grade.

As he rolled the parchment back up, he added, "Anyway, if we ever need to spread curses everywhere, this could come in handy."

"What kind of situation would that be?" Elia asked.

"The worst kind."

"..." Ian looked down at the bag, now containing only a small wooden box.

Reaching in, instead of pulling out the box, he grabbed a small metal object. It was another item taken from the curse caster’s robe. Unlike the paper, this had rolled deep into the bag’s interior. Elia, who had been left speechless by his earlier comment, naturally shifted her gaze to Ian’s hand.

"A badge?" she guessed.

"Probably." Ian turned the object over.

It had a sharp pin and clasp, making it easy to attach to a sleeve or collar. The surface, however, was smooth and polished with no visible markings. But Ian already knew how to reveal its true form.

"..."

Magic shimmered in Ian’s eyes as he channeled it into the badge. A faint light glowed on its surface, and Elia blinked.

"So it’s a hidden symbol."

"Exactly. Designed so only other mages can recognize it."

Ian tilted the badge toward Elia, showing her the revealed design: a long, narrow diamond shape, with intersecting lines extending from each corner.

"The Blue Magic Tower..." Elia sighed, recognizing the symbol, and her expression hardened as she continued, "So the dark mage was from the Blue Magic Tower."

"Either he was, or still is," Ian muttered as he gazed at the emblem on the badge again. It didn’t surprise him at all. He would know for sure after reading the mage’s journal.

"Just in case, do you know where any of the Magic Towers are located?"

"No, unfortunately. As you know, the locations of all the Magic Towers are completely hidden."

"And the entrances used by the mages are also unknown. If you don’t know, that’s fine." Ian nodded indifferently.

In the game, the only Magic Tower he ever entered was the Gray Magic Tower. Even then, they kicked him out almost immediately after discovering him. It was during that encounter that he learned the towers were built downward, not upward.

Of course, he still didn’t know the exact location of the Gray Tower—he had only managed to enter because the Nightmare of the Mage, a place within the Demonic Realm, was connected to it.

If Ian had mastered only one type of magic, he could have become a member of that magic tower, but he belonged nowhere. Now that it’s a reality, it would be fortunate if they didn’t come running to dissect his brain.

"At the very least, with this, I could pretend to be a blue mage."

At least until I get caught, Ian thought, tucking the badge into the pouch with the magic stones.

"…Now that I think about it, you can use multiple types of magic, right?" Elia muttered, almost in surprise.

Ian glanced at her briefly.

"Sounds like you’ve been told about that."

"Yes, I was told you carry many secrets and that I shouldn’t ask about them. Not only would you refuse to answer, but you wouldn’t appreciate it either."

"Well, you’ve done your homework."

Or maybe the Platinum Dragon just talked about me a lot.

Ian shrugged and pulled out the wooden box. It was the last item in the bag. Its surface contained an old spell circuit carved into it and it had a slightly larger size than his palm. Although no light emanated from it, Ian had seen something like this before—a sealing box used to contain dark relics, like the one holding the mark of the void.

He didn’t seem capable of wielding something like a dark relic.

Puzzled, Ian unlocked the clasp and opened the lid. His eyes narrowed as he saw what was inside.

"This is..."

Inside was a glass orb, slightly larger than a walnut. Though Ian wasn’t sure if it was glass, he cared little about the material. What caught his attention was the small, pitch-black chunk inside, about the size of the tip of his thumb.

It looked fragile, like a piece of charcoal that could crumble at any moment. However, it wasn’t charcoal, and it was floating slightly within the orb. Fine dust-like particles swirled around it, likely stirred by the movement of the box.

Swoosh...

The moment Ian’s fingers touched the orb, a faint resonance echoed within him, as if the fragment of chaos was reacting. His eyes narrowed again.

"Ian…?" Sensing something off, Elia cautiously spoke. "Should I… close my eyes?"

"... No need."

After all, it wasn’t the object that would affect the mind just by looking at it. Ian turned the box toward her.

"This is…?" Elia’s brows furrowed as she stared at the orb.

Ian murmured, "I thought you might recognize it immediately. But I guess not."

"...?" Elia tilted her head in confusion, but only for a moment. Soon, her eyes widened slowly, as if they might tear open.

"No way… It can’t be… this is…?" Her lips parted in disbelief as she looked into Ian’s eyes.

"Is this… a fragment of the Black Wall?"