I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

Through the smoke, Warren’s creased face emerged. Despite his head having returned, the black smoke didn’t dissipate. It spread from his eyes, nose, and ears, and billowed out from between his armor, enveloping his entire body like mist. The smoke even rose along his sword, making it appear as if he held a blade made of mist.

"Come." Warren raised his sword above his head as he spoke, his stance flawless. Anything that came within his striking range would likely be cut to pieces.

"No thanks." Responding, Ian threw his throwing knife.

It was his last one. Now, the only weapon left on his leather strap was the fairy dagger tucked at the very bottom. Warren, frowning, brought his sword down. The trajectory of his blade knocked the incoming knife aside and then surged toward Ian. Ian dodged to the side.

Crash!

The black trajectory left deep marks on the tree behind him before dissipating.

What a predictable pattern.

Thinking this, Ian watched him with Magic Detection activated. The tremendous power burning with intense momentum became clear. It didn’t seem like he could maintain that state for long.

His shallow plan was probably to replenish the expended magic by sucking Ian’s blood. In any case, it meant that time was not pressing for Ian. Of course, that knight didn’t intend to prolong the fight until all its magic was exhausted.

"Are you feeling fear now?" Warren charged as he spat out the words.

His previous nonchalant demeanor was gone, replaced by the movements of a well-trained knight. His earlier claim of recognition wasn’t just empty words. The approaching trajectory lacked the earlier composure.

Swish!

Ian stopped, planting his foot on the ground. The black arc grazed past him. Ian then twisted his body and charged at Warren.

Clang!

Warren easily blocked Ian’s downward strike. The burning mist made deeper scratches on Ian’s sword.

Fuck…

Muttering to himself, Ian thrust his left hand toward Warren’s side. The iron dagger he held tore through the quilted undercoat beneath the breastplate. Warren’s brow twitched slightly, but that was all. He swung his left fist. The black mist clung to his steel gauntlet like fog. Ian quickly backed off, leaning back to dodge.

"You seem to favor flashy tricks. Is that how you made a name for yourself?"

Something like that.

Ian answered only in his mind, adjusting his grip on his sword. The deep notch in the middle of the blade was clear. It had been halfway to breaking since the moment it chipped. It was bound to break soon. A sense of urgency crept in. At the same time, his nerves sharpened, and his Concentration peaked.

Swish!

Simultaneously, Warren charged. The mist on his sword had thinned. It seemed intentional. Warren probably wanted to overwhelm him with swordsmanship.

Looks like he’s gotten competitive.

Even as he thought this, Ian’s body moved accordingly.

Clash!

Ian barely deflected Warren’s downward strike with his blade, then closed in on him.

Bang!

Their shoulders collided. At the same time, Ian’s iron dagger, held with the blade facing outward, stabbed into Warren’s opposite side. Warren, showing no sign of pain, swung his arm to push Ian away.

Whoosh!

The black mist trailing from Warren’s arm lashed Ian’s entire body as he retreated.

Ian raised his arm to shield his face. The sensation of something scraping against his armor followed. But there was no time to hesitate. Warren was already bringing his sword down again.

Ian held his breath and leaped backward.

Shing—

Warren abruptly halted his swinging sword and followed after him.

As the approaching Warren came into focus, a chill ran down Ian’s spine. At the same time, the intuition that usually existed as an abstract sense was fully awakened. Ian could perceive everything around him simultaneously, even while locking eyes with Warren. It felt as if his field of vision had expanded beyond what his eyes could see.

Intuition and Concentration. And the Intelligence and Mental Fortitude to support them. These stats were manifesting their results.

As a result, Ian could closely observe Warren’s movements while also comprehending the situation at the campsite. Shouts, screams, and curses. The warm yet firm feeling that was unique to the holy power of the God of Light. The sounds of weapons clashing and Mev’s war cry. And Charlotte, leaping onto the carriage, her relaxed smile and breath visible.

At that moment, Warren’s presence became crystal clear, as if the focus had shifted. Ian’s mind envisioned Warren’s next attack—an upward diagonal slash.

Whoosh!

Matching his prediction, Ian narrowly dodged the trajectory. As before, recognizing and reacting were separate matters. But now, he was also capable of counterattacking. Warren did not retreat from Ian’s thrust but merely tilted his head to the side to avoid it.

Slash.

The blade imbued with Wind Blade cut deeply across one side of Warren’s face. Yet, Warren’s pitch-black eyes remained unwaveringly fixed on Ian. He was a guy who could regenerate even after being beheaded. Losing one side of his face was nothing.

Warren grinned, exposing the torn flesh of his face.

"Didn’t see that coming?"

With the upward slash completed, Warren’s arm tensed again. The trajectory of the blade etched itself clearly into Ian’s mind once more.

"Out of tricks already, it seems."

Shing!

The black trajectory fell. Instead of dodging or deflecting, Ian raised his sword above his head, assuming a defensive stance.

Clang.

The impact made Ian’s knee buckle momentarily. Warren’s sword was halted by Ian’s blade.

Crack—

At the same time, Ian’s sword, already deeply notched, snapped.

"As expected."

Beneath the falling blade, Ian’s eyes flickered with a red, fiery light.

"A sword alone won’t suffice anymore."

"...!?"

Warren’s confused frown indicated he didn’t immediately grasp the meaning.

Boom.

Yellow flames erupted from beneath Warren’s feet. It was the Pinpoint Explosion. Warren’s entire body was engulfed in the blast with no chance to evade.

"Yaaah—aaaargh!" His scream echoed from within the flames.

The black mist had already been consumed by the fire, leaving no trace. Despite his eyes boiling and skin charring, Warren’s face was filled with shock and confusion.

But Ian didn’t answer his unspoken question. Instead, he let go of his broken sword, drew his silver sword with his left hand, and rose. Switching the sword to his right hand, he leaped into the blazing inferno.

Slash!

The outstretched sword pierced through the burning quilted coat and into Warren’s abdomen at an angle, delving deeper into his chest. Warren’s scream abruptly ceased. His body trembled and stiffened, eyes wide open. As the flames died down, a smoke-laden sigh escaped his lips.

"Magic...?"

Those were his last words. When Ian withdrew his sword, Warren collapsed. Smoke rose from his forehead, and Ian looked down at his body. Like other vampires, his entire body was slowly turning to ash and crumbling away.

Honestly, this is more convenient.

Ian clicked his tongue and shook off his silver sword.

What a hassle. This wasn’t something to do twice.

However, there was some success. Even against a vampire knight, his close combat skills proved effective. If he’d had a better sword, he might have ended it with just his blade.

As Ian retrieved his sword from his waist, he reached for Warren’s fallen sword on the ground.

"Lo, lord! Is it over?" Philip’s shout rang out from a distance.

The surroundings had become quiet. With Warren’s death, his minions seemed to have all perished as well.

"Yes, it’s over."

Ian said, picking up the still-warm sword.

[Bleeding Straight Sword.]

Although the blade was a bit long, it was a surprisingly good sword. It had a minor penalty of slightly reducing Mental Fortitude, but for Ian, that was a minor issue. More importantly, it had a high critical hit chance. Just looking at the blade’s shape was convincing enough.

The rest of the armor was nothing special. Like a typical vampire, Warren hadn’t paid much attention to defense. Ian took only the sword and finally returned to the campsite. The area was a mess, covered in ashes of minions, dead birds, and rotting horse carcasses.

"Huff... huff...."

Philip, sitting in the middle of it all, trying to catch his breath, looked at Ian and spoke.

"I wondered when you’d finish... I thought I was going to die."

Despite his words, there were no visible injuries.

Liar, stop whining.

Ian chuckled as he tossed the captured sword into the carriage and looked at Mev. Her face was slick with sweat beneath her lifted visor.

"How did it go?"

"He really stayed alive even with his head cut off."

"They were nothing special. They tried some crude tricks with that smoke, though." Charlotte added as she jumped down from the carriage roof.

"Sir Riurel cut off all their limbs and left them to roll around. Philip really didn’t spare any holy power, either."

"But I did kill quite a few, my lord," Philip added.

Ian took a swig from his canteen and nodded, then gestured.

"Get ready to leave."

"Right away...?" Philip asked as he stood up.

Ian looked at Mev and spoke.

"The one we just killed was Count Shapiro’s son. He seemed to have received some of the Count’s pure blood."

"...The Count must have learned of his son’s death by now."

"Probably."

"Then, won’t he come after us?"

Philip said, checking the condition of the horses.

Ian shrugged.

"He might seek help from other vampires. We can’t sleep here anyway, so staying will just waste time."

"That’s true."

"We’ll rest after the sun rises."

If he really wants to kill us, he’ll follow us on his own.

Ian swallowed the rest of his words and looked at Charlotte. She nodded slightly and approached the carriage.

"It seems we can’t take this one with us...." Philip added as he patted the horse that had collapsed with a torn side.

Ian exchanged a glance with Mev and clicked his tongue briefly.

"We have no choice. Let it go."

***

The group emerged from the forest just as dawn was breaking. They found a stream running through a shallow valley and stopped the carriage there.

The rest wasn’t long. By noon, they started moving again. Fortunately, the horses had enough water and grass, so they recovered some strength. The ones still tired were the group members themselves. Mev and Philip, as well as Ian and Charlotte, who hadn’t slept at all, were exhausted.

They decided to rest in turns while traveling. Ian and Charlotte, being the most sensitive, had to stay separated. Thanks to Charlotte’s willingness, Ian and Mev were the first to catch some sleep.

The loss of one horse turned out to be a blessing in disguise in this regard. If all four horses had survived, only one person could have slept at a time.

When Ian woke up from his cramped sleep, it was already midnight. They were in the middle of another forest, descending a gentle slope.

"Go inside and sleep. I’ll take the reins."

"It’s not time to switch yet."

"Just sleep," Ian said as he took the driver’s seat.

Philip reluctantly stood up.

"Wake me around dawn. The horses need to rest then anyway."

"Got it. Charlotte, you too, go and sleep. Wake Sir Riurel."

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"I’m fine. Let her sleep for another hour or two." Charlotte replied in a hoarse voice.

She’s learning to be considerate now.

Ian chuckled and nodded.

The quiet journey continued.

By the time Ian finished one piece of jerky and took out a second, Charlotte, who had been yawning, finally brought her horse alongside the carriage. Mev, who had already woken up, was preparing to come out.

"I slept too long. Sorry about that, Charlotte."

"Don’t mention it,” Charlotte replied nonchalantly, leaping from her saddle onto the roof of the carriage without making much noise. The horse snorted briefly but didn’t bolt. Mev easily mounted the saddle.

They all have such good riding skills.

Ian clicked his tongue briefly.

Though he had grown accustomed to riding, his skills were still far from exceptional. In fact, his method of fighting on horseback was full of reckless actions that he would normally never attempt.

"Would you like some jerky?" As Mev rode alongside, Ian tore a piece of jerky in half and handed it to her.

Mev took it without a word and chewed on it. She didn’t refuse the bottle of liquor Ian handed her either. Drinking alcohol right after waking up wasn’t good for health, but there was nothing better for shaking off sleepiness.

After finishing the jerky and sitting silently for a while longer, Mev finally spoke up.

"There’s no humanity left in them."

"What are you talking about?"

"Those minions. They were different from the corrupted ones. All they wanted was to inflict pain and drink blood."

"Well, they’re just empty shells." Ian shrugged.

Mev handed the bottle back to him and asked.

"Empty shells?"

"The resurrected minions have no souls. They only have memories of their previous lives. So they think they are still alive."

The bottle was nearly empty.

Ian took a regretful sip and added.

"In reality, they have no empathy and can’t feel anything. They are driven solely by desires and commands."

"Things that think they’re alive...."

Mev nodded thoughtfully and then looked at Ian.

"You know everything, Ian. At times like this, you really seem like a mage."

"I just picked it up somewhere." Ian shrugged and took another sip from the flask.

What he just said was nothing more than a direct quote from a magician NPC in a game. This NPC was a researcher of demons, and like most mages, he had an insatiable curiosity and a relentless drive for discovery, regardless of the means. He was probably still wandering near the Black Wall, engrossed in his research. Someday, they were bound to cross paths again.

"They shouldn’t be allowed to live. Not for the innocent people of Lu Sard who were killed by them."

"I agree."

"...Except for one," Mev added meaningfully.

Ian, who was gazing into the darkness, shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe."

There was no further conversation. Mev once again fell silent, lost in thought. Ian, nibbling on jerky, enjoyed the quiet.

In any case, it seemed tonight would pass peacefully. Despite the odd sense of dissonance he felt about this, Ian didn’t pay it much mind. After all, nothing would change.

It was only several hours later that he heard the sound of yawning from behind.

"Sleeping in the carriage might become more comfortable than a bed at this rate. I slept so well."

Philip mumbled, sticking his head out toward the driver’s seat.

"It feels like I slept for a long time, but I guess not."

Ian responded indifferently. "You did sleep for a long time."

"It’s still so dark. It must be around dawn now."

"...?"

That can’t be right.

Ian looked up at the sky, which was covered in thick clouds, and frowned. By now, it should have been fully light outside. He had grown so used to the overcast weather that he hadn’t noticed.

Ian eventually let out a dry laugh and muttered.

"Maybe the Empress has realized that I’m here."