I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Ian had brought the villagers to scavenge the stronghold. Loot gathering had become crucial, much more than in the game, as neither monsters nor humans resurrected or respawned anymore.

Once dead, it was final, and the same went for the loot. Looking through the huge stronghold by himself wasn't effective, so he asked for help. Still, he didn't trust these villagers.

“I won’t stop from taking what you need for your village, or a bit of spare change,” Ian met each of the young men’s eyes, as if memorizing their faces.

“But don't miss anything valuable. Bring those to me, especially if you're not sure whether they're valuable or not.”

Ian lightly touched the vigilante captain’s sword, now his.

“And remember, I despise people who repay kindness with betrayal. I can't stand even sharing the same air with such people,” said Ian.

His words were meant to intimidate, but they were not entirely empty threats. Ian looked at the young men, who nervously swallowed, and added, “Got it?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Understood!”

“Then spread out and get to it.” Ian nodded slightly.

The young men scattered with their eyes gleaming like hyenas.

“Don't get too caught up in the treasure. Keep your swords ready. There might still be some alive.” Adding his advice, the innkeeper followed them leisurely.

“Innkeeper,” Ian called him to a halt.

“Yes?”

“Come with me.”

“Alright,” the innkeeper replied.

The innkeeper approached. At first glance, he looked fat rather than muscular, but a more careful look revealed that he was, in fact, quite robust. Ian wondered if he'd have had such a physique if he had chosen a Knight or a Barbarian class.

"It seems like you need some muscle,” the innkeeper remarked.

“You've probably got a better eye for valuable stuff than these hayseeds,” Ian replied as he turned toward the innkeeper.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Weren’t you in the military? You'd be skilled in looting.”

“Precisely, a regular in Bel Ronde's army. You have a good eye.” The innkeeper chuckled.

Ian shrugged. He'd visited inns often in the game for quests, and almost all innkeepers were either thugs or ex-soldiers. It was a simple deduction that this innkeeper, with his demeanor like that of a seasoned sergeant, was the latter.

“We're here,” said Ian.

They entered the heart of the stronghold, the clearing where Ian had decapitated the kobold chieftain.

“Is that the chieftain?” The innkeeper pointed to the center, where a large battle ax lay next to a grayish-black headless body. The broken sword lying in front of the chieftain’s body was Ian's old one.

“Yes. We’ll start with this one,” Ian declared, standing before the remains.

“I've seen kobold chieftains before, but never one this big. No wonder the head was so large,” the innkeeper exclaimed in awe.

The chieftain was massive, comparable to that of the innkeeper himself. Normal kobolds were the size of children, so this was an abnormal growth. The chieftain wore makeshift armor made of leather and was adorned with trinkets, mostly made of beast fangs and claws.

"I think you can tell from his appearance that he was a young one. He would have grown larger by now.” As Ian spoke, he leaned forward.

"I couldn't tell at all. But if he grew any larger, it would have been terrifying," the innkeeper responded.

"Indeed. He would have invaded the village, and most of you would have perished.”

"Well, that might be true, but you seem so certain, as if you've seen it yourself."

"The vigilante was simply too weak," Ian concluded.

Actually, this was a scene Ian had seen in the game. When the game became a reality, the flow of time changed as well. Although it had been over a year since Ian arrived here, it was still much earlier than when he had visited in the game.

In the game, the kobold stronghold, organized into tribal units, dominated the forest and threatened the villages. The kobold chieftain, at that time, was a grand chieftain overseeing other chieftains. Exterminating him before this rise to power was relatively easy, but the reward in experience points was significantly less.

I just hope the loot isn't as disappointing. Ian began inspecting and removing the chieftain's ornaments one by one.

"...There it is.” Ian's eyes sparkled as he found something of value. Fortunately, the loot remained unchanged.

“What did you find?” asked the innkeeper, squatting nearby.

"A valuable item." Ian showed him a necklace

"To me, it looks like a nasty stone with a red eye," the innkeeper observed.

"You've seen it right," Ian replied, donning the Bloodstone Necklace.

A rare ornament that increased Strength and Stamina by one each and Mental Fortitude by three. The chieftain's stolid demeanor was partly due to this necklace.

"You have a unique eye for things. It seems like I won't be of much help,” said the innkeeper, eyeing the necklace warily.

"You will be now. Remove his armor," Ian instructed.

"...So, I end up doing physical labor after all. Understood.".

The innkeeper began lifting the chieftain's corpse. Though he muttered about its extreme weight, he skillfully started removing the ragged armor. Ian touched the armor. He was able to look up the armor’s specs, which didn’t look particularly impressive. It seemed difficult to repair as well.

"You can have the armor. It'll fit you," said Ian.

"Really? I've got a new decoration for the inn, then. Thanks.” The innkeeper's hands became lively as he untangled the armor’s fasteners.

"And take this ax too," Ian added.

"Are you sure? To my eyes, these things seem more valuable than that necklace," said the innkeeper.

Not at all, thought Ian. The battle ax was barely holding together and would shatter after a few hits.

"Don't be mistaken. It's not for free,” Ian added calmly, concealing his thoughts. The innkeeper cocked his head.

"While I’m staying in the village, you’ll find me work," said Ian.

"Like kobold extermination requests?" the innkeeper asked.

"Anything. Big or small, as long as the reward is certain," replied Ian. This was the real reason Ian had brought the innkeeper along.

Before falling into this world, he had seen a list of essential side quests in a strategy guide, but he hadn't read all of them. Even with his improved intellect, he couldn't know what he hadn't seen. And it was impractical to search for every quest himself.

So, he planned to let the jobs come to him. Among them, there would surely be quests, or at least clues. A tattered armor and a nearly broken ax were a fair price for this service. The loot for the village youths followed the same logic.

"That's unexpected," the innkeeper remarked, looking at Ian with a hint of admiration.

"Why, did you think I'd only deplete your food supply? Like those vigilantes?" Ian chuckled.

"I thought you'd leave soon. Someone like you wouldn't stick around in a backwater place like this."

"I will leave. Once my business is done."

If he weren't a ruined character, perhaps it would be different. Ian intended to clear as many quests as possible as he progressed. Even if the outcomes differed from the story he experienced in the game.

"Understood. I’ll gladly take on everything except trivial tasks like finding lost cats," said the innkeeper.

"That's fine too. As long as I can kill and bring the bodies," said Ian.

The innkeeper laughed as he removed the armor, handling it with more care this time. It was his property now. Ian smirked inwardly and turned to look at the corpse. His gaze was fixed on the middle of the chieftain's chest.

"As expected, there it is," said Ian.

In the center of the chieftain's chest was embedded a large black bead. Around the bead, thick blood vessels protruded. This bead was the finest trophy that could be obtained from the chief.

"What is this? A cursed bead?" The innkeeper asked.

"Something like that," Ian nodded in agreement.

"My goodness. Lu Solar...." The innkeeper closed his eyes and murmured the name of God.

"Dagger." Ian reached out his hand.

With a face like he'd tasted something foul, the innkeeper drew his dagger and handed it to Ian. Without hesitation, Ian plunged the dagger into the chief's chest and extracted the bead. The heavy black bead, still shimmering with blood, seemed to contain something ominously wriggling inside.

"What kind of curse is imbued in it?" the innkeeper asked, turning his gaze away.

"It's filled with tainted magic. A lot of it."

"...Are you saying the chieftain used black magic?"

"The one who embedded this used it. It's also their endgame. In time, it would have bound its power to the being that gave it strength."

Now that the chieftain was dead, it was merely concentrated essence of corrupted magic.

"Does that mean someone wants these things to spread?" The innkeeper's eyes narrowed.

"Yes," replied Ian.

"For what purpose? Is it a black mage corrupted by the madness of the Black Wall?".

"That's none of my concern. It's a done deal, so forget about it," Ian responded in a solemn tone.

Besides, that black mage would eventually meet his end at my hands, Ian silently mused, wiping the blood off the essence bead.

A bead of concentrated tainted superior magic. If he had been a black mage, it would have been a valuable artifact to use immediately.

In Aquilonia, every character could choose Corruption. It was an addition in the first DLC, an expansion pack of sorts. Knights became Dark Knights, Barbarians became Berserkers, Mages became Black Mages, Scouts became Assassins, and Acolytes became Ancient Clerics. According to the strategy guide, skills, choices, and quests could all change. Corruption, a choice still available to Ian, carried its own risks.

The main reason Ian avoided it was the penalty it imposed: a reset of his level the moment he embraced Corruption. Additionally, Ian's unfamiliarity with the skills that followed corruption contributed to his decision. The uncertainty about how his relationships with key characters would evolve was yet another factor.

Nevertheless, the current priority was clear. Purifying this essence would enable him to use it anyway. Whether Ian chose to use it directly or craft something from it, it was certain to save his life at least once.

I wonder which priest in Agel Lan has the ability to purify this, Ian thought to himself.

He then placed the essence in his pocket. More precisely, he pretended to do so while actually transferring it to a pocket dimension.

The game's basic 12-slot inventory window had now transformed into a small pocket dimension. It was still small and unable to hold large weapons like polearms, but it served as an absolutely theft-proof personal safe.

"It seems my business with this fellow is done," Ian remarked as he stood up, handing back the dagger.

"So, where to next?" The innkeeper took the dagger back, still looking uneasy.

"Now it's time to raid this guy's house." Ian pointed toward the back of the clearing, at a shack that was somewhat intact.

"Let's go quickly. I'm curious about what the kobold chieftain has hoarded." The innkeeper's eyes sparked to life, and he quickly took the lead.

‘Probably more curious about what spoils would come his way,’ Ian thought. He leisurely followed, also curious about what they would discover.

***

The loot gathered by the village youths filled a cart and still overflowed. It ranged from scrap metal, logs, and unusable military equipment to relatively intact kobold corpses.

Most of it was junk that Ian would not have even glanced at if he had been alone. Of course, he still selected the most valuable items from the heap—a few magic stones and silver coins. Though they amounted to just a handful, it was more than nothing.

"This... isn't too bad," Ian murmured to himself.

Each of these items was more valuable than all the other miscellaneous goods combined. The gain was quite generous, considering he had not invested much time or effort. There were also magic stones found in the chieftain's hut, so overall, it was a successful search.

“Still....” There was more to be checked.

He turned his gaze toward the village youths lined up in a row with their pockets bulging conspicuously.

They've gathered quite diligently, Ian noted inwardly, scrutinizing them carefully.

The youths froze like frogs before a snake under his gaze. Ian's eyes flickered menacingly, a sign he was using his Vision, a magical detection skill. Although it was only level one, it was sufficient to identify objects infused with magic.

...Just like now. Ian halted, noticing a green light shimmering from within a youth's bulging pocket. He didn't know what it was, but it was definitely an object containing magic. Ian gazed at the youth, a simple fellow with a notably pale face. Ian’s frustration was replaced by bitterness. Despite his warnings, they never learned.

"Why so foolish?" Ian asked.

"Y-Yes?" the youth stammered, obviously aware he had done something wrong.

The moment of reflection was brief. Ian drew his sword from his waist. It seemed these medieval fools only learned their lessons through bloodshed.

"Empty your pockets," Ian commanded.

Tension finally showed on the faces of those watching, and their eyes shifted to the trembling youth.

"What, exactly...?" the youth barely uttered.

Ian didn't repeat himself; instead, he raised his sword. Just as he was about to strike...

"...?"

Ian's brow furrowed suddenly. The magic emanating from the youth's pocket intensified. The magic seeping into the youth's body became increasingly vivid. Ian shifted his gaze back to the youth's face and looked again at his pale complexion, trembling lips, and unfocused eyes.

"...You weren’t in any state to talk from the beginning," said Ian.

"That, that thing. Wh-what is th-that..." The youth's voice turned eerie, grating like metal on metal. His eyes, wide open, turned a shade of purple. A purple magical aura enveloped him.

"Ah, ah!"

"This is insane...! Johnson?!"

The surrounding youths recoiled in horror and disbelief.

Crack— Crackle—

With a chilling sound of breaking bones, the youth's arms and shoulders began to contort unnaturally, as if undergoing a mutation.

'Disgusting,' Ian thought. Of course, Ian had no intention of waiting until the transformation was complete.

Swoosh!

Ian's momentarily halted sword flashed again, drawing an arc. Just as the blade was about to sever the youth's neck...

Snap.

The youth's unnaturally twisted hand gripped the blade. The sword penetrated halfway through his hand, but the youth seemed impervious to pain, even smirking. His eyes, swirling with purple magic, stared directly at Ian.

"You're quite hasty. Aiming for the neck right away." An eerie, metallic voice echoed. Ian's eyes narrowed slightly. He had assumed it was merely a possession or a curse.

"There was an uninvited guest, after all,” said Ian.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l