I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain-Chapter 127

I know, right?

Ian muttered to himself as he dashed up the hill. His senses felt sharper, as if shedding a layer of skin. His body moved as he willed, and he was acutely aware of his limits.

After countless battles in the North, especially the life-and-death struggle at Bellium Fortress, Ian had felt his combat skills advance to a new level. While his raw stats had been significantly higher under multiple buffs back then, this was a kind of growth that couldn’t be quantified.

I’m getting better at using my body.

Swallowing a bitter smile, Ian kicked off the saddle and leaped into the air. For an ordinary person, such a reckless move would have likely resulted in broken bones or a loss of consciousness upon impact.

Crunch!

However, Ian had no hesitation as he rammed into the bandit with his shoulder. Hesitating or fearing injury in such moments would only lead to greater harm.

He also knew his armor would absorb some of the impact and that his body could withstand this level of shock. If anything broke, it would be a chance to test his improved recovery abilities. His opponent, however, was not so fortunate.

"Guh... ugh...!"

The bandit, now sprawled on the ground, coughed up blood. His body was partially embedded in the broken wooden floor. Ian, pinning the bandit down, raised his sword.

Thud.

The blade plunged into the bandit’s chest as if slicing through tofu. The bandit, gasping in pain, quickly drew his last breath.

I should have made his death more painful.

Ian thought as he stood, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene on the other side of the hill. The raided wagon wasn’t the only one.

Several wagons lined the hillside, with bloodied bodies strewn about and others lying on the roadside awaiting their fate. The remaining bandits, who had hesitated at their comrade’s call, finally scrambled to grab their reins or mount their horses when they saw Ian.

"Fuck...! Who is that guy?"

"A knight, perhaps...?"

"Could it be the one from the rumors...?"

As Ian stared silently at the lifeless body of a child, the bandits’ whispers reached his ears. Finally, he turned his attention to them. Unlike the previous three, the remaining eight bandits didn’t charge recklessly. They stood, muttering anxiously, their eyes filled with tension and fear, but one among them seemed relatively composed.

"Sir Knight, we don’t know where you come from, but...." The bandit stepped forward slowly, speaking in a calm voice.

He must have something to rely on for such confidence...

While Ian thought this, the bandit continued speaking.

"These people refused conscription and fled the country. They not only ignored the return order but also raised their weapons against us. Therefore, we are merely carrying out their immediate execution."

"Oh, I see. But you don’t seem like the regular army."

Ian replied nonchalantly, wiping the blood from his face with his palm, which only smeared it more, making him look even more intimidating. Despite this, the man smiled, thinking the conversation was going well.

"We are mercenaries, hired by Count Bellad, the rightful owner of this land, and currently under the command of Sir Elinder."

"Sir Elinder, huh?..."

A peculiar smile played on Ian’s lips. As the mercenaries watched nervously, the man spoke.

"If you wish, you can confirm this yourself. Sir Elinder is camped only a day’s journey from here."

"That’s a very tempting offer. But first, there’s something we need to clear up."

"... Go ahead."

"Are you the leader of these men?"

"Yes, I am."

"Even if your words are true, it doesn’t erase the fact that you attacked me and my subordinate with crossbows and swords in sight."

The leader’s smile froze.

There was no need to elaborate that those who had drawn swords had paid for their lives. It was implied that he had to account for the affront to himself. This was typical knightly logic.

He probably wants some compensation, that greedy bastard. Despite his thoughts, the leader forced a smile.

"Then come with us. Sir Elinder will offer an apology and compensation."

Of course, it was a lie. The moment the knight set foot on their base, he was a dead man. Sir Elinder would never forgive this man.

However, Ian’s response had once again defied his expectations.

"That won’t be necessary. I just want the one who failed to control his men to take responsibility."

Ian gestured with his chin.

"Give me your head, and I won’t hold Sir Elinder accountable for today’s incident." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

The leader’s smile vanished.

Only then did he realize that this mad knight had been toying with him all along. Maybe he just wanted to extract information through their conversation. His eyes turned cold, but only for a moment. He noticed his subordinates staring at him and frowned.

"What are you looking at, you idiots? Don’t you get it? He just wants to fight us!"

He drew his sword with a clang, adding, "Pick up your weapons! Even if you go back empty-handed, you’re as good as dead—"

Thud!

Before he could finish, his head snapped to the side, a dagger embedded under his cheekbone. He dropped to the ground, twitching. The mercenaries gasped.

"Crazy... Captain...?!"

"Again, you’re drawing weapons against me."

Ian, who had already leaped onto the bandit’s horse next to the wagon, turned the horse toward them and spoke. As the sound of hooves from the approaching wagon reached him, he glanced at the frozen mercenaries for a moment before snapping the reins and charging down the hill.

"Damn it! Kill him!"

The mercenaries scrambled to grab their crossbows.

"Shoot!"

Bolts flew toward Ian, who was charging at them. A whirlwind whipped up immediately afterward.

"What the hell was that–-"

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Their questions were cut short as the mad knight, sword extended, was suddenly right in their faces.

"Scatter! Surround him!"

The mercenaries frantically whipped their reins. The closest one turned his horse and raised a round shield.

Boom!

But it was futile. Ian’s sword slashed in an arc, and the wind extending from it shattered the shield. The long blade hovered next to the bandit’s head as he staggered in the saddle.

Slash.

His head flew off, and blood gushed from the severed neck as Ian passed. Cries of terror burst from the peasants cowering on the ground. As they crawled away from the chaos, the remaining mercenaries drew their weapons and shouted.

Ian didn’t listen to them. Charging toward the next target, he drew a throwing dagger with his free hand.

Thud! Screech–-

"Argh?!"

The dagger buried itself in a horse, not a man. The startled horse reared and collapsed, throwing its rider, who screamed as he hit the ground. Ian leaped from his saddle toward the closest mercenary.

"What the—?!"

Slash!

The mercenary, who was caught off guard, raised his sword. Ian twisted his body, taking the blow on his shoulder and retaliating with his own sword. The mercenary’s sword glanced off Ian’s pauldron and broke, while Ian’s blade dug deep into his shoulder.

"Guh... ah...."

Pulling out his sword, Ian ducked instead of pushing the mercenary’s body away. Thud, a bolt embedded itself in the mercenary’s back.

Such faithful comrades, these guys.

Ian thought as he threw another dagger, knocking the slumped body aside.

"Ugh...!"

A mercenary with a dagger in his chest fell from his horse.

Ian, covered in blood, charged toward the next opponent.

"Shit...! What is he...?"

"It’s him... the Red Knight!"

Fear filled the faces of the remaining mercenaries. Seeing their comrades die so quickly, and their attacks not affecting this blood-soaked madman, was horrifying. The man wasn’t even wearing full plate armor or a helmet.

Slash!

Another mercenary fell, blood gushing from his severed body. Two remaining mercenaries looked at each other, eyes wide with realization.

Clip-clop—

Ian was circling his horse. Without hesitation, the two whipped their reins, thinking only of escape.

"I, I... survived...!"

One mercenary, seeing Ian turn toward his comrade, sighed in relief. He had thrown away his weapon, hoping to lighten his load and outrun the monster knight.

But he didn’t realize that the mad knight wasn’t really a knight.

Swoosh.

A searing heat rapidly closed in from behind.

"...?!"

The mercenary’s eyes widened in horror as he glanced back. Four or five fireballs were speeding toward him.

Boom!

Explosions erupted around him. One blast threw his horse off balance, sending it crashing to the ground. The mercenary was flung from the saddle, tumbling through the air. Beyond the upside-down world, he glimpsed the figure of the knight with his sword pointed at him, smoke trailing from the blade.

Magic...?

That thought was his last as his neck snapped upon hitting the ground.

Crack!

The final fleeing mercenary’s head split open immediately afterward. His horse continued running, but Ian didn’t pay it any attention as he reined in his own horse. As the horse carrying the corpse galloped away, Ian turned his horse toward the heart of the raided scene.

"...."

"Please... spare... me...."

A mercenary, crawling on the ground with a broken leg from being thrown off his horse, whimpered as he heard footsteps approaching. Ian walked up without a word and drove his sword into the man’s back.

"Phew...."

He let out a brief sigh, not retrieving his sword. The fight wasn’t over yet; the strongest opponent remained.

"Ian! Behind you!"

Charlotte’s shout echoed from a distance just as Ian calmly turned around, signaling her to stay back with a raised hand. A bulky figure was struggling to rise—a mutating mercenary captain.

Ian clicked his tongue briefly.

Still not fully mutated... What a pathetic creature.

While dealing with the mercenaries, Ian had already sensed the tainted magic emanating from the captain. He had left him alone because the amount of magic wasn’t significant. It was unsurprising; this captain was not a proper minion of the corrupters, just a lackey of a lackey.

Moreover, Ian’s perception of time in combat flowed more slowly and precisely than normal.

His relaxed demeanor and the mention of Elinder’s name made me suspicious. As expected, it’s just as I thought...

Thinking this, Ian gathered his magic.

The mercenary captain staggered to his feet, his face grotesquely twisted, with a dagger still embedded in it. His armor couldn’t contain his bulging muscles, tearing apart to reveal asymmetric, swollen muscles with purplish veins.

Such creatures were not uncommon in the game—sub-bosses or named enemies classified as elite monsters. Their slow mutation speed had made them easy targets, as Ian used to beat them during transformation and drain their blood.

This time, I’ll just kill it.

The already-formed Dancing Flames flickered around him. With an added touch of chaotic energy, they would be even more lethal to that incomplete corrupted creature.

Boom, boom, boom!

Successive blasts of fire struck the nearly transformed captain, bursting his skin and exposing raw, crimson flesh beneath.

"Ugh— Argh!"

Just as the captain screamed, Ian charged, leaping at him.

Crunch—

Ian’s sword cleaved the twisted head in half, stopping just below the neck. It didn’t matter; he hadn’t intended to bisect the captain.

With his red-glowing eyes, Ian muttered. "I’m definitely faster."

Roar!

The roaring flames engulfed the mercenary captain’s entire body. It was the Pinpoint Explosion. Ian kicked the man through the blaze and landed a suitable distance away.

"Scree-eech—"

The captain shrieked horribly, burning up until he stopped moving. Ian waited until he was sure the captain was dead and saw his experience points increase slightly before moving on. He pulled out a cloth from his pocket and wiped the blood and oil from his sword.

Charlotte, watching from the driver’s seat, finally spoke. "That looked like black magic...."

Her tone suggested she hadn’t expected to see such a presence among mere bandits. Ian, puzzled for a moment, remembered she hadn’t encountered many corrupters or mutated creatures. Before meeting him, she likely hadn’t had many opportunities to see their true forms.

"It was nothing significant. Real corrupters or their minions are much stronger." Ian replied nonchalantly, retrieving his sword.

He then noticed the surviving onlookers, who had been observing the situation from a distance. Those who met his gaze flinched and bowed their heads.

"Thank you... my lord...." an elderly man among them spoke.

That was it. Most of them bowed their heads in fear rather than gratitude.

Is this it?

In the game, such situations often triggered quests. Even so, Ian wasn’t particularly disappointed and turned away. These events were happening all over the borderlands, and there would be more opportunities.

"Wait... wait a moment...! My lord! My lord...!"

"...?"

Ian paused as he was about to get back on the wagon. He saw a woman running down the hill, nearly tumbling in her haste. It was the driver of the first wagon they had encountered. She must have regained consciousness after fainting.

"Thank you... thank you, my lord...!"

She panted, collapsing to her knees. Ian glanced at her battered face and responded curtly.

"There’s no need for thanks."

"Aren’t you... the one from the rumors?"

The woman added. Ian stared at her in silence, and she wore an expression that was somewhere between a smile and a sob.

"I knew it...! I recognized you the moment I saw you...! You are the Red Knight... the Agent of Vengeance...!"

"...?"