I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy
Chapter 427

Chapter 427

"Maybe," Ian replied without pausing, hands still moving. "Though we won't know for sure until we meet him."

It wasn't exactly a surprise that Lucia had reached the same conclusion. She'd always been sharp, and after meeting Valten, there had been more than a few moments that made things obvious. Everything they'd been wondering since meeting the other survivors finally seemed to click into place.

"From what I know, something like that would only be possible if someone's already broken free from the limits of mortality," Lucia whispered. "The Son of Light ended up becoming something born of darkness."

Ian said nothing. He simply gave a shrug and bent down to adjust the fit of his steel boots and greaves. That part was always the most important—tight enough to hold, loose enough to move.

"But even so," she continued, softer now, "His Highness still seems noble. Everything we've seen points to that. Maybe he's..." Her voice trailed off as she looked away. "Maybe he's in the same state as you, Ian."

"Could be," Ian replied, giving a small nod. It was a fair assessment. "Though unlike him, I'm not exactly noble."

Lucia watched him flex his ankle once, then shook her head. "That's not true. You haven't been corrupted by the void or driven mad by chaos. Instead, you've learned to control it. You haven't lost yourself—and you're not trying to run from what you are, either."

"Well..."

It's not like I had a choice. Whether I wanted it or not, I think I've already become a candidate for transcendence.

Straightening his back, he reached down to adjust both sides of his greaves as Lucia continued, "Maybe that's the case for His Highness as well. Maybe that's why the Black Knights can still think clearly. And maybe, his innate ability helped with that."

"Well, I can't say for sure, but he doesn't seem to serve any of the ancient gods."

If he had, their influence would've slowly twisted his soul. A full decade would have transformed him into a monster.

Ian recalled the aura Valten had emitted—inky and unnatural, yet not quite monstrous. Something shaped and controlled, not imposed by an outside god. It was chaos drawn from the void, refined and reshaped into something personal, like what the Heaven Defier had done. And that was the first time Ian realized—that maybe a human could do the same.

Still, there was always the chance some unknown god was behind it.

"The real problem comes after the wall falls," Lucia said quietly, a sigh slipping into her voice. "It's clear the royal family and the Order won't accept His Highness or the survivors on this side. They'll label them as corrupted, no doubt. And judging by how Sir Valten reacted, it doesn't look like they hold much love for the Empire or the Order, either."

"Why would they?"

"Exactly. They've got every reason not to." Lucia didn't just look worried. She looked resigned like she was staring down a problem with no way out. And at this rate, even if the wall came down, it would just be the start of another war.

Ian exhaled quietly through his nose. "Well then, I guess His Highness will end up being known as the Dark Prince."

He simply didn't care. After all, he couldn't spend the rest of his life here, worrying that the Empire might split in two. Besides, he was just one man. There was no way he could redirect such a massive current. Killing Hyked wouldn't change that either.

If anything, killing the man would only elevate him.

After all, Ian was the Northern Superhuman and the Agent of the Platinum Dragon. If Hyked died by his hand, Hyked would become a martyr, a saint, and maybe even a god in the eyes of his followers. They would carry on his will with even more conviction—more intensity than ever before.

Sure, that can be prevented if I wiped out every last survivor in this land...

But that wasn't really an option. And honestly, it wasn't something Ian wanted to do. Being known as a skilled killer was one thing, but becoming a butcher—someone capable of cold-blooded slaughter—was another.

Besides, he saw them more as victims than villains. With his focus on taking down the Wall and getting out, there was no reason to stand in their way. Risking the collapse of everything just to oppose them, especially for the sake of the Empire or the Order, made even less sense.

"The Dark Prince... unbelievable," Lucia murmured, turning to him. "So you think the Empire really will divide?"

"Not exactly." Ian adjusted his belt with a final tug, the leather settling snugly at his hip. "I just don't see the point in worrying about things I can't change."

He gave a small shrug. "For now, bringing down the Wall comes first."

And in that regard, learning that Hyked was not only competent but possibly someone he could reason with, was a win.

Ian didn't know what kind of situation the man was in now—but if things played out well, he might end up facing Hyked not as an enemy, but as someone who owed him a favor.

"You're absolutely right. And for that, we'll need His Highness's help."

"More precisely, we'll need their help. If we're going to bring down the Wall in the time we have left, we'll need to act pretty rapidly. And for that—" Ian twisted his arms and legs, then turned to look at Lucia. "We need to keep working with them as equals and not as subordinates taking royal orders."

Lucia nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Yes. I understand what you mean now—clearly."

Her voice was quiet, steady. There was nothing divine about her in that moment—no awe, no light. Just a calm, grounded reason.

She's been around me and Miguel too long, Ian thought.

Then he asked, "Where's Diana?"

"She went with Sir Seren to prepare for departure. I came to find you."

"Right. So I'm the last one left."

"I'm sure everyone's still preparing. You don't have to rush."

"It's fine. I'm already done."

Ian rolled his neck from side to side, a low crack echoing with each shift. His gear settled in with its familiar weight—heavy, but grounding. Maybe it was the bit of rest he'd managed, but his thoughts were sharp, and his body felt light.

"Makes me wonder," he muttered as he pulled his cloak down over his arm. "Would even a beastfolk archdemon behave if you cut off their tail?"

A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced at Lucia. "So let's go find out."

"Okay!" Lucia immediately turned on her heel.

Didn't she just tell me to take my time? Ian thought, shaking his head with a chuckle.

***

Lucia took the lead, striding confidently through the dim, twisting corridor. As they neared the exit, the number of Wolves increased. Each time they passed one, the soldiers halted what they were doing and stepped aside, pressing a fist to their chest plates.

It wasn't the casual nod of a comrade. It was formal—respectful. The kind of gesture reserved for honored guests. Word of his conversation with Seren had clearly spread.

"See you around. And thank you for the talisman," said Lucia.

Unlike Ian, who walked past without a glance, Lucia gave a nod of acknowledgment to each person they passed. The Wolves responded with brief nods of their own.

She acts like she's not, but she's pretty sociable, Ian thought.

The massive gate they'd entered through now stood wide open. Outside, several figures waited near the edge of the clearing. Ian turned to Lucia, who was slipping her mask over her face.

"I thought you said they were still getting ready?"

"We're already late," Lucia said with a shrug, pulling up her hood. "A few more minutes won't make a difference."

Ian let out a short laugh and looked ahead. Two riders were approaching, side by side. One, silver-blonde and masked, was unmistakably Diana.

"Looking good," said Ian as he looked at Diana.

Most of the gear she wore looked brand new—leather reinforced with thin metal plating, protective wear lined with intricate spell circuits etched into the inner fabric. For someone who'd insisted she didn't want to come, she'd cleaned out the armory more thoroughly than anyone else.

"They just happened to fit me really well, okay? I mean, if it fits that well, I have to wear it." Diana mumbled her excuse, glancing away.

Ian smiled. "No one's complaining. Just saying—you look good. Guess I made some good picks."

"You've got an eye for this sort of thing. Been watching me all along, have you?"

"Well, I have eyes, you know."

Diana's eyes widened behind her mask, and then she turned away abruptly, pulling the horse along with her.

What was that about? Ian blinked, tilting his head slightly.

Lucia was hurrying up to join Diana. It looked like they were planning to ride the horse together.

With a small shake of his head, Ian turned toward his own steed—a black warhorse waiting patiently by the gate.

"You really didn't have to see us off in person," said Ian.

The one holding the reins was Valten. He turned the horse sideways to make it easier to mount and gave a polite nod.

"I simply wanted to express my regrets," Valten said. "It still weighs on me that I failed to escort the two of you safely to His Highness."

"No need for apologies. Thanks to you, the trip was smooth." Ian replied with a smile.

The contrast between Valten's intimidating appearance and his courteous manner was still striking. It was the kind of dissonance Ian typically only encountered when dealing with orcs.

His eyes drifted to the warhorse at his side, then back to Valten. "Wait, did you saddle it yourself?"

The black steed was clad head to hoof in the armor Ian had chosen—dull, dark-hued plates that shimmered in the dim light. Multiple layers of plate armor covered the head, torso, and even the legs.

"It wasn't too difficult," replied Valten.

Ian studied the horse more closely. It had only been half a day, but the beast was already snorting and stomping with energy. That wasn't what stood out, though.

"This is still the same horse, right?" Ian asked, his gaze narrowing.

The frame was familiar—large, muscular—but the sheer mass was different now. It had grown.

And then there were the horns. From the bridge of its nose to the crown of its skull, two blade-like horns jutted out, piercing through the chained metal helm. They looked like they were still growing.

"Yes. The same one," Valten confirmed. "To be honest, I was surprised too. I've never seen a steed evolve so quickly. At this rate, it won't be long before it becomes a true demonic warhorse—one that serves no one but you."

"Then I'd better keep it alive until then," Ian muttered.

Is it because of the chaos power?

Ian wondered as he placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted the saddle. The steed's body beneath his thighs felt noticeably heavier and more solid than before.

Handing over the reins, Valten added, "It'll be your greatest companion. Just as my Elizabeth is to me."

"Your warhorse's name is Elizabeth?"

"I usually call her Liza."

Huh, what a fancy name.

Ian chuckled and tugged at the reins. The black steed stepped backward, unnervingly obedient.

"I pray you reach His Highness safely—and return just the same, Agent of the Saint," Valten said, pressing a fist to his chest.

Ian gave a nod. "I'll do my best. And since this might be the last time—-"

He paused as the warhorse turned its head, then looked down at Valten. "Don't let the darkness consume you."

Behind the slits of his visor, the yellow gleam of Valten's eyes widened ever so slightly. Then he bowed his head deeply. "I'll do my utmost."

The black steed turned away and moved on, hooves ringing hollow against the stone. Only then did Ian lift his gaze past the open gate.

At the rear of the gathered force, Lucia and Diana sat atop their shared mount, waiting quietly.

The procession comprised about ten heavily armed Wolves, clad in thick armor. Each of them bore a long scratch etched across one eye socket of their masks, a mark of their elite status. These were top-tier Wolves, likely of commanding rank.

Each of their warhorses had a supply bag tied to either side of the saddle. It seemed they were accompanying the group more for supply transport than combat. And at the very front of the column, mounted atop a fully mutated warhorse, was Seren.

When her eyes met Ian's, she raised her left hand high. Then, with a deep rumble, the fortress bridge began to lower.

Moments later, Ian drew up beside Lucia and Diana.

Having looked over the Wolves and then Ian in turn, Seren finally spoke. "We'll be riding straight to the rift without rest. Don't fall behind."

Ian and Lucia both gave a nod, almost in unison. The only one to let out a sigh was Diana.

Seren tightened her grip on the reins of her beast mount and turned it around. "Then, let's move out."

Her steed galloped ahead. The Wolves followed, and not far behind, Lucia—who had grown fairly adept at handling her mount—fell into line.

Ian glanced up at the sky, a chaos of clashing colors, then finally brought down the reins.

Neigh—

With a sharp cry, the black steed reared slightly, then launched forward, hooves tearing into the ground. It was as if it had been waiting for this very moment. And so they charged—into the land of archdemons, where madness and chaos reigned.

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