I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

The fog became incredibly dense the moment they stepped into the demonic realm.

"Huff... Huff..." There was not a trace of leisure on Philip's face as he led the way.

"My lord. Am I going in the right direction...?" Holding his sword and shield tightly, Philip spoke without turning his head.

"Yes," Ian replied, sounding annoyed.

"How do you find your way here? Even I, a hunter, cannot discern the direction." Miguel glanced at him sideways.

"Well."

"...Is that all?"

"What, got a problem with that?"

"Of course not. It would be a thief's attitude to want to learn such a secret by mere words. Hmph...," Miguel quickly turned his gaze forward after catching Ian's look and muttered.

After all, you wouldn't be able to do it even if you learned. Ian mumbled to himself as he turned his gaze back to the dense fog. What he was looking at was the corrupted magical energy that was heavily mixed with the fog.

The patterns of magic swirling with the fog flickered like a mirage. This was a kind of marker that the tomb would be in its center. Crossing through the patterns of magic would lead them there.

How is all of this maintained? Corruption doesn't mean the magic springs infinite. A question he had never considered before naturally followed. The reason he could afford such idle thoughts was that, in truth, this forest posed no danger from fierce monsters.

It was a dead forest without even an ant. Although the forest was a labyrinth filled with contaminated magic that doomed intruders, knowing how to navigate made it much less of a problem. After a long journey, their surroundings suddenly became clearer.

"Uh...?" Philip, who had stopped in confusion, eventually spoke. He continued, "Could it be... have we arrived?"

"Probably." Ian looked back as he responded. The fog ended as sharply as if cut by a knife, spreading out as a gray curtain. Philip and Miguel almost simultaneously sat down.

"I really didn't think I could do it. Praise be to Lu Solar... thank you...." said Philip.

"I didn't think you'd manage it either. Sounds like life getting shorter, damn it...." said Miguel.

So much babbling. This is only the beginning. Ian snorted and looked ahead again. An ancient fairy ruin was spread out in the clear opening. At its center, a building with half-destroyed stairs leading underground was the entrance to the underground tomb.

"Is that the place...." Mev, with her face mask raised, muttered as she looked at the same spot. She strode forward, exchanging glances with Ian.

Following leisurely behind her, Ian sifted through his memories of the game. The underground tomb was the first real dungeon to appear in the game. As such, it was quite typical. A giant maze connected like an ant nest.

There were two main strategies for navigating it. One involved taking a long route to confront a mid-boss before meeting the dark mage, the standard route. The other was a shortcut, a hidden path concealed by basic tricks, which Ian learned about only after defeating the boss. This time, however, he intended to take the shortcut from the beginning.

There's no reason not to, thought Ian. There were no treasures to miss or extra quests to consider.

Mev stopped in front of the stairs.

"Are you ready to fight?" Standing beside her, Ian spoke, looking down into the darkness below.

"Of course. No matter what happens, I will not retreat." Mev declared firmly.

"There's nowhere to retreat to anyway," Ian smirked.

"My goodness, Lu Solar...."

Then, sighs came from behind.

"Damn, it's one thing after another."

"That's exactly what I'm saying...."

It was Philip and Miguel who had followed. Their expressions were utterly dejected. Ignoring them, Ian stepped forward.

"Then, I'll take the lead now," said Ian.

"Eh? You're going straight in? Maybe we should mentally prepare a bit—"Miguel's eyes widened.

Such talk of preparation was dismissed with a scoff by Ian, who boldly stepped onto the staircase. Philip and Miguel with faces like those being led to slaughter and Mev with a stern look, followed suit. Soon, the darkness of the underground swallowed the group.

***

Thud, Thud.

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs echoed unusually loudly. It didn't take long for the surroundings to turn pitch black. Miguel lit a torch, but it made little difference. The light barely illuminated a few steps ahead. This phenomenon was no longer surprising. The darkness of this world was not just the absence of light.

Moreover, the staircase, contrary to its appearance, seemed endlessly deep. It was evidence of some permanent ancient magic embedded in the tomb itself. Bending and twisting space, making the outside appearance different from reality. To Ian, it seemed like a convenient setup, but regardless, such unbelievable things indeed existed in this world.

The silence was unexpectedly broken by Mev.

"We should pray for a moment once we reach the underground," said Mev.

"Is there a problem?" Ian's steady pace slowed.

"Since entering this place, the resonance of the stigma has weakened." Mev placed her hand on her breastplate.

"Stigma...?" Ian looked puzzled.

Mev, after a moment of looking earnestly at him, realized he was serious and explained. "It's a mark engraved on the soul the moment one is chosen as an apostle. Through it, we resonate with the gods and are granted divinity."

So that was the mechanism...? Ian raised his eyebrows, recalling the image of Lu Solar. He had nearly prayed to her twice, unwittingly risking his soul in the process.

In this damned world, even the gods play tricks.

It was the moment when any lingering want for the title of apostle vanished. While it might be a glorious affair for the people of this world, to him, it was akin to a slave contract.

"However, the divinity does not feel as distinct now. ...Perhaps, this is also an effect of the demonic realm," Mev continued.

"Understood." Ian nodded indifferently.

Even though it meant that he might not be able to receive the support of divine power. Compared to what he had heard earlier, this news did not surprise him much. Divine power was inherently the nemesis of dark magic, it wouldn't have been strange at all if the dark mage had prepared something in advance.

Anyway, it won't affect the clearing of minor mobs. That's good enough, Ian murmured to himself. It would be even better if Mev cleverly excused herself from the boss fight, leaving the confrontation to him, but that seemed unlikely.

As Ian shrugged, Mev's somber voice continued. "Even if the Goddess does not respond, I won't be a burden. Don't worry, Ian."

Ian chuckled and, without looking back, responded, "I've never worried about that."

The stairs ended when the musty taste of the air filled their mouths. Philip and Miguel looked as if they might develop claustrophobia at any moment. The space had widened, but the darkness was still thick enough to swallow them whole. However, not everyone was oppressed by the darkness.

"It seems we can pray now." Ian, scanning the surroundings, suggested. His eyes flickered like those of a predator, clearly perceiving beyond the darkness. The large chamber was littered with the remains of broken statues.

"Understood." Mev drew her sword in reverse grip and knelt on one knee, touching the sword's tip to the ground before closing her eyes. Silent prayers followed, her lips moving slightly.

"How can there be nothing here...?" Miguel muttered, shining the torch around.

"Why is that strange?" Philip whispered in confusion.

"There are supposed to be hundreds of bodies buried here, from what I've heard," Miguel replied.

"And?" Philip asked.

"There's not a single bone. Would you enter such an ominous place to dispose of bodies deep within?" said Miguel.

"Uh... now that you mention it..." Philip's gaze naturally shifted to Ian, puzzled.

"Are you two asking because you don't know?" Ian’s brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?" Philip's retort made Ian realize he had never detailed the dark mage's capabilities to them.

"This mage claimed to be a necromancer.” Ian scoffed.

"Necro...mancer?" Philip asked.

"Necromancy deals with corpses and spirits," Ian replied.

Philip's mouth fell open. His face revealed he had never considered the variety of dark magic. He had vaguely thought of them as merely evil and terrible spells.

Miguel, almost pallid, barely managed to speak, "So you are saying he resurrects the dead and controls spirits?"

"Probably. That won’t be all, though," Ian replied.

"That's impossible... Why would someone with such immense power hide? They could overthrow kingdoms," said Miguel.

"There must be a reason he hasn't." Ian merely shrugged. He had some guesses, but it really didn't matter to him. After all, the villain's ambition would end today.

"So, stop with the pointless thoughts..." Ian paused mid-sentence, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Right. Here it comes." A strangely relieved smile played on Ian’s lips as he looked into the darkness.

"What's coming?" Philip asked, feeling an ominous vibe from Ian’s demeanor.

"The mage knew we were coming long before now," said Ian.

"What?!" Philip explained.

"But it was too quiet, almost annoying." Ian's smile deepened. "Exactly. It wouldn't make sense for this place to be unprotected."

Before Ian finished speaking, a faint light blossomed from beyond the darkness. Philip and Miguel's eyes widened simultaneously. Purple lines, resembling blood flowing through veins, densely engraved the ceiling and walls. Philip dumbly realized they were an endless collection of ancient characters and symbols.

"Ancient language?" Philip asked.

"It's a spell circuit. The tomb's magical mechanism is starting to activate," Ian replied.

"This doesn't look like a spell from the ancient fairies... too ominous, isn't it?" Philip remarked.

"What do you expect from a spell in the hands of a dark mage?" said Ian.

"...Ah,” Philip let out a sigh.

In the game, the magical mechanism activated halfway through the dungeon, revealing the true nature of the underground tomb. If it was like the game, the first thing to start would be...

"Ah?! No, what the hell?" With a loud crash from behind, Miguel jumped.

Turning around, Miguel’s eyes widened at the sight of a giant stone wall rising in front of the stairs. Ancient characters suddenly appeared in the middle of the wall that now completely blocked the entrance, imbued with a dark red glow as if proving the ruin's corruption.

"What is... this?" Miguel turned to Ian, who was not looking at the stone wall. Ian was staring into the darkness beyond with dark, sunken eyes.

Creak, crunch— crunch—

The faint noise continued. Miguel finally turned in the same direction as Ian, toward the still-darkened passage amidst the spell circuit.

Creak— crunch—

The strange noise was getting closer. The darkness swirled as if swarming with maggots. Dozens of purple glows appeared, revealing skeletons moving as if alive. It was the dead resurrected by necromancy.

While Miguel's mouth hung open in shock and Philip froze belatedly,

Creak, creak, creak—

Like a dam bursting, skulls began to squeeze through the passageway and flood in.

"You two protect Sir Riruel." Ian launched himself forward after uttering these words.

"Eh? Wait a minute! Ian! Are you going to fight alone again?!" Miguel's voice chased after the back of his head as he dashed away.

Then, would you like to fight instead? Muttering to himself, Ian crossed the hall, stepping consecutively on the fragments of statues before leaping forward.

Swish—

As the wind wrapped around his entire body, Ian’s eyes, shimmering with magical power, scanned the passageway that unfolded before him. The corridor was filled with skeletons that extended endlessly beyond, with a glimpse of ghouls in between.

There's a damn lot of them, thought Ian.

Simply in terms of numbers, this was the most he had seen since he had fallen into this world. And this wasn't even all of it. Given that the mechanism was activated, almost all the undead from the tomb were likely converging here. However, there was not much sense of crisis in Ian's eyes.

Their armor looks shoddy, and they clearly lack self-awareness. I don't deserve to survive if I'm defeated by such things. Ian murmured to himself.

Of course, the dangers of the underground tomb were not limited to this. But for now, as long as the path was blocked, it was hardly relevant. Gliding into the corridor, Ian swung down his mace.

Crack!

The skull of a skeleton, unable to react to the charge, was smashed to pieces. The glow in its eye sockets faded, and the bones of its body crumbled in an instant.

Whoosh!

A whirlwind burst forth around Ian, sending skeleton fragments flying in every direction. This was the Whirling Barrier, a lower-tier gray magic designed to deflect projectiles and charges, now repurposed for attack. While its lethality was limited, and the undead could reanimate without their heads being destroyed, its efficacy against them was notable.

Crack—

Securing the space was meaningful enough. Ian, landing on a rolling skull, knelt on one knee and raised his mace high.

Snap! Crack!

Rolling skulls burst indiscriminately under his indiscriminate blows. If it had been a sword, the blade would have broken several times. However, the mace was neither broken nor bent.

"Phew..." Ian, having crushed all the nearby skulls, finally stood up.

The undead he had sent flying was already approaching again. A faint magical power flickered in Ian's eyes as he watched them.

Shoosh—

The wind spread rapidly, swirling up along the shaft of the mace. Ian didn't resist the flow, gripping the handle with both hands and swinging it mightily.

Crash!

The charging creatures were smashed against the wall as if hit by cannon fire. Fragments of bones and the mushy flesh of ghouls dripped down. Re-gripping the handle, Ian waited for the undead to approach before swinging his arms in the opposite direction as well.

Bang!

The undead collided with the wall once more, as if hit by a colossal hammer. In reality, that was exactly what happened. The Wind Blade, previously a slender line when utilized as a sword, had transformed into a violently rotating sphere at the mace's end, striking out fiercely. With this tactic proving effective, devising a strategy became significantly easier.

Crash! Bang!

Ian alternated between waiting and swinging, a cycle he repeated a couple of times and stopped the undead’s move until the undead abruptly halted.

Ian narrowed his eyes slightly, then curled one corner of his mouth. He sensed a piercing stare among them, filled with hatred and fury. Identifying the source of the stare was effortless.

"Why, you didn't think I'd bring the relic?" Ian calmly lied.

Whether the creature believed it or not was irrelevant.

"Just hide there like a rat and watch closely. I'll smash all your toy heads with this," said Ian.

The goal was solely to infuriate it. The more rationally and efficiently the creature acted, the higher the chance of someone in the group dying. As Ian flicked the mace in his hand, the light of the spell circuit flickered. The skulls' eye sockets ignited.

"It seems you are really pissed off. Thankfully," Ian said with a grin, his fangs on display. The undead, silent in their roar, surged toward him like predators.

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