I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain-Chapter 592

It was enough to make Ian pause.

"To enter, you need the Magic Tower’s…" Ohara trailed off as she fell to her knees. The tattoos along her neck, arms, and beneath the thin fabric of her clothes flickered a searing yellow.

"Kh!" Vomiting an arrow of blood, Ohara collapsed. At almost the same moment, a thick steam mixed with the smell of burning flesh rose from her.

"Ugh, cough, cough—" Ohara coughed up a blood-tinged phlegm, the light from the tattoos shimmering through the steam beginning to fade.

Ian watched in silence, his brow slightly furrowed. It was the best he could do. If he interfered recklessly, the magic might backflow or become entangled, putting her in even greater danger.

"Phew… Phew…"

Fortunately, there were no more dramatic changes. Gasping for breath, Ohara painstakingly pushed herself up with both hands. The tattoos were still red like a brand, and a faint smoke still rose from them.

"If I startled you, my apologies. Agent of the Saint…" she said in a ragged voice, struggling to catch her breath.

Just as Ian was about to reply, his head turned toward the door to his left. Footsteps were rapidly approaching.

A moment later, the door burst open.

"What kind of reckless spellcaster—oh, Ian?" Thesaya, having entered, stopped short upon seeing him. Her gaze then dropped to the floor, to Ohara, who was panting and wreathed in smoke.

Looking at the shimmering tattoos on Ohara’s neck and arms, Thesaya tilted her head. "Was it an assassination attempt? Or a spell’s side effect?"

"Neither," Ian replied and nodded toward the hallway. "It’s fine, so go on back to what you were doing. We need to talk in private."

"You do? Alright. Don’t worry. Sister and I were the only ones who felt it. I slipped out quietly so the game wouldn’t get disrupted." Thesaya shrugged and grabbed the doorknob.

A smile curved across her lips as she pulled the door shut. "Have a good time. And get ready to be rich again."

Should I be thankful she’s a pointy-ear in moments like this?

A corner of Ian’s mouth twisted. She was clearly so engrossed in her gambling that she had no interest in Ohara’s condition or their conversation.

Looking down at the still-panting Ohara, Ian said, "So that’s what happens when the oath breaks."

"Yes," Ohara replied, her voice still ragged. "If I didn’t have these tattoos, I would have died before I could even properly speak of it."

"You looked half-dead anyway."

"Because it’s impossible to remove an oath, or to block it completely." Ohara, with a bitter smile, spat out the remaining blood in her mouth.

"I spent a long time preparing… and it still wasn’t enough. That was close. And as expected, they seem to have lost their function entirely now." Her gaze slowly scanned her arm, where the light of the tattoos was fading.

No doubt, she would be suffering the aftereffects for some time. It wouldn't be surprising if there were other, unseen side effects.

"Then is the oath gone now?" Ian asked bluntly.

Ohara shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. The only way to be truly free from its binds is death."

Clicking his tongue, Ian said, "Shame. Wasting a once-in-a-lifetime chance on me."

"Not wasted at all. I told you because you are the Agent of the Saint. You have the strength to stand against those spellcasters. And you’re not the sort to be bought, or to forgive," Ohara said without a hint of hesitation, looking up at Ian.

"They’ve done something unforgivable, then?" Ian asked pointedly.

Of course, he knew full well what the Gray Magic Tower was up to. He’d seen it firsthand in the game. And now, beside him, stood Lucia, who would have been one of their test subjects, sacrificed to their experiments.

Gray Magic Tower… What a coincidence.

Still, it wasn’t useless information. He had just found a way to enter the Gray Magic Tower without going through the central Larmut family. More time had passed than in the game, so the darkness that had taken root in Larmut and the tower would surely have deepened.

Being able to skip a step was significant in itself. And if he could bring down the tower first, the power of those who had joined hands with them, like Larmut, would also be greatly weakened.

"Yes. They are committing a sin that cannot be washed away even by death. And I am sure they are continuing to do so, even now. Of course…"

Ohara faltered, her gaze dropping.

"I am a sinner as well. With these hands, I made it so that Anna can never feel certain emotions again. Including joy. And even if it was just for a moment, I enjoyed the process."

"It seems you’ve paid the price for that sin yourself. Including the time you spent getting those tattoos," Ian said flatly, after looking down at her for a moment.

As Ohara paused and looked up again, he shrugged. "And the waitress didn’t seem to resent you."

"Thank you for saying so, Agent of the Saint." A faint smile touched Ohara’s lips as she bowed her head.

Ian, who had snorted indifferently, added, "So what, you want to hire me or something?"

Ohara blinked, then nodded. "So the rumor that you were a mercenary is true."

"Not were. I still am."

Ohara took a deep breath and nodded. "In that case, yes. I would like to commission you to see that they pay for their sins."

At the same time, a quest window popped up in front of Ian.

[Guilt and Nightmare.]

As he stared at it, Ohara added, "If only I could promise you a worthy reward. A commission requires proper payment, and in a case like this, it should be paid up front."

Ian didn't deny it. He just thought to himself that, as expected of a resident of a pirate city, she knew how things worked.

"But, all I have is this worthless body and this run-down building, a few handfuls of coins and some shabby magical artifacts I took from the tower long ago..." Ohara trailed off weakly.

"Not much indeed.."

"Pathetic, is it not? But, Agent of the Saint, if you could just pass the information I have given you to another with the proper ability and qualifications—"

"But I’ll take it."

"—I would be most grateful. …Pardon?"

"The latter part of what you offered, of course."

Ohara paused and looked up at Ian with bewildered eyes. "You’ll accept it?"

"As long as you’re okay with your burden of guilt lasting a little longer. I have things I need to do first. A lot of them, in fact," Ian added with a shrug.

"Even if it’s after I’m dead, I don’t care." Ohara, her eyes never leaving Ian, finally smiled again. "As long as you, Agent of the Saint, are the one to bring them judgment."

"In that case, the deal’s struck, Ohara." Ian turned, picked up the cup from the bedside table, and held it out to her.

"Thank you, Agent of the Saint." Ohara took the cup and immediately brought it to her lips.

As she drank the wine slowly, but to the last drop, her eyes suddenly settled with a renewed resolve. "Then, the part I was unable to finish telling you earlier—"

"Stop. We’ve buried enough bodies for one day. I’ll find a way into the tower on my own," Ian cut her off, snatching the cup from her hand.

He had felt the magic in Ohara stir for a moment. It was faint compared to before, but it would have been more than enough to take her life.

As the wave of magic subsided, Ohara blinked, a smile on her lips. "Yes, Agent of the Saint. Instead, as a token of my gratitude…"

She brought a trembling hand to her waist. After fumbling for a moment, she held her hand out. "I will give you this." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

What she offered was a small insignia, likely made of iron. Ian accepted it in silence. A wavy curve ran across it, split by a jagged line through the center. The design was different, yet he had seen something like it before.

"The insignia of the Gray Magic Tower," murmured Ian.

"It will serve as a memento," Ohara said nonchalantly.

A corner of Ian’s mouth twitched. He had realized at once that this was her way of providing a clue without breaking her oath.

He pocketed the insignia and nodded. "I’ll keep it safe."

"Yes. You must. Ah, and what I told you earlier…"

"I’ll keep it a secret. Don’t worry," Ian said, finishing her sentence.

Unless he just wanted to screw with the Gray Magic Tower, there was no reason to spread word of their location before a fight.

"You are truly wise, Agent of the Saint." Ohara smiled faintly and staggered to her feet.

After barely finding her balance, she took a deep breath. "I should ask Anna to clean this up."

"If you’re done talking, let’s go. I still plan on drinking plenty more tonight," Ian said, tipping his cup, and turned.

"Before that, may I give you the payment first? I wouldn’t be surprised if I collapsed and fainted at any moment. I’d feel better if I gave it to you first." Ohara, who had followed him, said with a weary smile on her lips.

"I don’t see why not," Ian said with a shrug, opening the door.

As he stepped out into the boisterous hall, he added, "Then, let’s include some liquor in that payment."

***

Clip-clop, clip-clop—

Moro, who had walked out alone, stopped in front of the open door of the inn. Ian, fully armed and waiting, quickly stepped outside. The air reeked of damp and filth, veiled in a faint mist.

He lightly patted Moro’s neck, stepped into the stirrup, and swung himself up. Moro turned in the opposite direction, as if it had read his mind.

"Agent of the Saint."

The three-horse carriage that had been following approached. Edward, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, bowed his head slightly. He still had a splint on one leg, but his complexion was good, likely thanks to having rested in a separate room.

As Ian rode past, he said, "We’ll follow the road and head northwest."

"Yes, understood," Edward replied.

Ian’s gaze shifted to the back of the carriage. Mukapa and Brennen, each on their own horse, were following.

"I will take the right, Agent of the Saint," Brennen said as their eyes met. His voice was firm, but his face was etched with fatigue.

Ian nodded. "When the Young Master comes out, you get in the carriage. Get some sleep."

"No, sir. I am fine."

"I’m saying this because the monsters of the frontier aren't easy enough to fight while dozing off."

Brennen’s eyes widened at Ian’s words.

As Ian pulled on the reins to stop, he added, "Of course, if you’d rather just watch when they show up, stay in the saddle."

"Never! You’re right—I’ll do as you say," Brennen said hastily, his eyes wide.

As Mukapa skillfully stopped at the rear of the carriage, Ian shrugged and turned his horse around.

"Please get in." Shahin, a leather sack of preserved food slung over his shoulder, was already holding the carriage door open. His face was as haggard as Brennen’s, a result of the gambling game that had lasted until dawn.

"Thanks, Shahin."

Most of the group hadn’t slept a wink, but Ian gave them no slack. He had warned them in advance that they’d be leaving early in the morning.

Lucia climbed in first, looking relatively fine. Behind her, Thesaya bit at her lip as she stepped up.

"Tsk."

She looked sullen, likely because she had been forced to give back half the money she had won overnight. She and Lucia had truly cleaned everyone out.

"Ugh… my head hurts…" Finally, Simon, rubbing his temples, staggered inside. Shahin, the last to get in, closed the door.

Moro, as if it had been waiting, moved to the left side of the carriage.

"Leave? What do you mean, Sir? The Agent of the Saint?"

As Simon’s voice came from inside the carriage, Ian pulled on his reins again.

Sanford, followed by Ohara, being supported by Anna, had come out of the inn.

"I told you to sleep instead of waiting," Ian said, looking down at them.

The sailors were all dead to the world by now, no doubt lost in nightmares after seeing their winnings cut in half.

"How could we, when the Agent of the Saint himself is departing?" Sanford said with a shrug.

Though he looked just as tired as the rest of the group, his single eye was strangely shimmering.

Just as Ian’s brow furrowed slightly, Sanford bowed deeply. "Thank you again, sincerely. If it weren't for you, none of us would have made it across the sea alive. Of course, we would have also become beggars. To part ways so soon… is truly a great shame."

Ian looked down at Sanford’s shaggy head and slowly curled one lip up. "Well, if you’re that disappointed, shall I stay a few more days?"