I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 410

"The Bastard King," Mev muttered under her breath.

Sensing her tone, Nasser quickly added, "I’m well aware that you’re not particularly fond of him, my lord. There’s no way you’d look favorably upon the man who allowed Agel Lan to fall."

He stroked the white mane of the horse, Selim, as he continued. "But out of all the cities we’ve passed, none are as prosperous as Orendel."

The frontier they had returned to was in utter disarray—a chaotic mix of monsters, beasts, spreading demonic realms, void creatures, and humans consumed by madness.

The Empire had completely abandoned the region, leaving it to rot like a land forsaken by the gods. The kingdoms, unable to recover from the war’s aftermath, had long since met their end. The surviving lords, seizing the opportunity, proclaimed themselves kings of their respective cities, rallying their people and rebuilding their power.

One such figure was Declan Burchard, former lord of Orendel, also known as the Bastard King.

"There’s no doubt about his capabilities. If luck is on his side, he’ll build a proper kingdom. More importantly—" He glanced up at Mev, who remained silent, deep in thought. "Wasn’t Sir Ian his benefactor? That’s why we were treated so generously. A contract with him wouldn’t bring any complications."

"It’s not because of Agel Lan that I find him untrustworthy, Nasser," Mev finally spoke.

Nasser tilted his head in confusion. "Then why, my lord?"

"He’s overly ambitious. And with that ambition comes a shadow that looms within him. While I recognize his abilities, I won’t support his rise to power by becoming his patron," she said, her voice calm but firm. "If he were to fall into corruption after building a proper nation, who would stop him?"

"Why wouldn’t there be?" Nasser asked, blinking, before quickly adding, "You’d be there."

Mev let out a hollow laugh. "You’re making dangerous jokes again, Nasser."

"I mean it. You’ve grown even stronger than when I first met you. I dare say you’re one of the finest knights on the continent now. And, if I may, you have a rather capable squire under your command."

Nasser’s smile appeared as his eyes gleamed with confidence. "Of course, I understand that the Bastard King isn’t someone to be underestimated. But doesn’t that make it all the more reason to stay close and keep an eye on him?"

Mev hummed softly. While she dismissed much of what Nasser said, his last point struck a chord. Staying close would allow her to monitor Declan’s actions and detect any signs of corruption early. If necessary, she could act swiftly to prevent widespread suffering.

"He’s capable. As I said, he’ll achieve something with or without our help. He already has the overwhelming support of Orendel’s citizens. And if, by any chance, something happens that we can’t handle alone—" Nasser lowered his voice, leaning slightly closer. "There’s always the option of seeking help from Sir Ian."

Mev froze for a moment.

Nasser, noticing her reaction, smiled even more broadly and continued, "The Northern border is relatively easy to cross, isn’t it? If we head to the Temple of Brazier, we’ll likely find out where Sir Ian is. And, while we’re at it, we could also learn about the current state of the Empire—"

"That’s out of the question, Nasser." Mev cut him off firmly, though she softened her tone as she continued, "I’ve already received more help from Ian than I can ever repay. I can’t go to him again. When the time is right, Ian will come to find me—no, us. Until then, it’s best to wait quietly."

"But, my lord, you..." Nasser spoke, but his words trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to say that he knew she longed to see him. Unaware that he had caught on to her feelings, Mev sighed softly.

Nasser glanced at her before bowing his head. "You’re right, my lord. It was thoughtless of me."

"It’s fine. It was a reasonable suggestion. Let’s revisit this matter another time." Replying in a calmer tone, she shifted her gaze forward. "For now, let’s focus on the task at hand." ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

"Yes, of course," Nasser replied, turning his attention ahead.

A small village surrounded by a makeshift wooden palisade was now visible in the distance. It was the kind of dying settlement often found in the frontier, home to those who chose to remain rather than seek refuge in larger cities.

Clip, clop.

Leading the way, Nasser entered the village with the reins of his horse in hand. Two young men, seemingly members of a local militia, stood guard at the village entrance with spears. However, they said nothing upon seeing Mev and Nasser.

"Hmm." Mev looked around the village. About half the houses appeared empty, an ideal spot for lurking undead or minor monsters to hide.

"It’s truly sad. No matter how much they’ve lost faith in the nobility, they should need a lord to protect them." Despite his words, he didn’t drop his guard. In some frontier villages, the entire population took part in banditry.

This village, however, seemed different. A temple-like structure stood well-maintained, and the villagers went about their tasks diligently. While some glanced at Mev and Nasser, their gazes held little hostility or fear—mostly curiosity.

"They must have realized we’re here to deal with the wraith," Nasser remarked casually, walking through the village without hesitation. He slowed the horse slightly and tugged on Selim’s reins. An elderly man with a head full of white hair was approaching them.

"Are you the village chief, by any chance?" Nasser asked, stepping forward slightly.

The elder, bowing politely, replied, "Yes, it’s an honor to have such esteemed guests visit us. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask this old man."

His demeanor suggested he was ready to offer them lodging and meals. It wasn’t surprising—if a knight in full plate armor and an armed squire caused trouble, the villagers would have no way to stop them.

Nasser offered a small smile. "We heard rumors and came to investigate. We heard that there’s a haunted house here, overrun with wraiths."

"Ah, so you’ve come to help us." The old man offered a faint smile as he bowed deeply. "Your words are most generous, but the wraith has already been dealt with."

"The wraith has been dealt with?" Nasser’s brow furrowed slightly as he questioned further.

The old man nodded, clasping his hands in front of his chest. "Yes, my lord."

Nasser blinked, turning to glance at Mev. Problems rarely resolved themselves before their arrival, especially without the backing of a proper lord. And this wasn’t just some monster—it was a wraith, not something wandering mercenaries could handle.

When Mev gave a slight nod, Nasser turned back to the old man and asked, "Could you explain in more detail? Who was it that defeated the wraith?"

"It was yesterday. A quiet individual arrived, wearing a hooded cloak. He was riding a magnificent white horse, much like the one you sir, knight lord is mounted on." The old man gestured toward Selim politely with his hands before continuing. "I only asked a few questions, but it was clear they were an Apostle of the Radiant Goddess."

"A paladin, you say?" Nasser’s brow furrowed further.

The old man nodded again. "I may be wrong, but I saw a brilliant golden light shining from the haunted house when he entered."

"A hooded cloak, a white horse, and a light—" Nasser murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before addressing the old man again. "Where did this Apostle go?"

"Well..." The old man hesitated.

Nasser quickly added, "We mean no harm. The lord I serve is an Apostle of the Stern Goddess. If there’s another apostle here, we wish to meet them and exchange words."

The old man, startled, looked at Mev before finally responding. "The individual is still here, staying in the village."

"Still here? Where exactly?" Nasser asked.

The old man raised an arm, pointing toward a path behind the village. "There’s a small house with a barn at the edge of the village. You’ll find them there."

"Well, that’s convenient. Thank you for telling us. Don't worry, no trouble will come to your village because of us," said Nasser.

The old man bowed his head again.

Nasser tugged Selim’s reins and added, "We’ll leave quietly after meeting them, so don’t worry about us unless you have other needs."

"Shall I have food brought to the house?"

"We don’t want to deplete the village’s supplies without contributing anything. That won’t be necessary."

"You are truly merciful. May the Radiant Goddess’s light and the Stern Goddess’s judgment guide you both," the old man said, clasping his hands before his chest once more as he stepped aside. Nasser nodded briefly, leading Selim forward.

Once the old man had disappeared into the distance, Nasser finally spoke. "From what we’ve heard, he must be a paladin. Could there be another pilgrim like us out here?"

"We’ll know when we meet them," Mev replied softly.

Nasser nodded. "Whoever they are, I hope they’re reasonable. If we align, perhaps we can tackle problems that were beyond just the two of us."

The frontier was a dangerous place, full of unresolved issues like deadly wastelands and demonic realms full of void creatures. Some of these threats loomed far too large for Mev and Nasser to handle alone.

Of course, the kings of the cities couldn’t address such issues, nor did they send troops. There were volunteers with good intentions, but none were skilled enough to be worth bringing along.

However, it was a different story if it involved an Apostle of the gods. If their goals aligned, they could dispel the darkness of the frontier far more swiftly.

"At the very least, they’re not a purifier sent by the Order. The Oder doesn’t have the resources to concern itself with the frontiers right now," Nasser added as he turned to follow the road.

Ahead, near a crude wooden fence, stood an old brick house. Just as the elder had said, it had a small barn attached.

As Nasser approached the house, his eyes narrowed slightly. A white horse emerged from the barn, its glossy coat gleaming. The horse had a lush, sun-gold mane and wore a barding that covered its head and body.

"It seems they didn’t bother tying the horse up. Its bloodline looks quite exceptional—" Nasser’s words trailed off as he suddenly froze. It wasn’t just because the white horse was striding toward them.

Staring at the horse, Nasser furrowed his brow and murmured, "Nila?"

Mev froze in her tracks. "Did you just say Nila?" she asked, barely forming the words.

Nasser nodded uncertainly, turning to her. "I’m certain. The build has changed, so I almost didn’t recognize it, but that head shape and those eyes—it's definitely Nila. It was my horse. I couldn’t mistake it. Look, even Selim recognizes it."

As if to confirm his words, Selim quickened its steps, appearing eager to close the distance.

Mev’s gaze shifted toward the dilapidated house.

"Then does that mean..." As her trembling voice trailed off, Nasser turned his head forward. The rhythmic sound of hooves echoed through the air.

"What happened to you, Nila? Did the goddess herself bless you?" Nila came to a stop in front of him, lowering its head slightly.

Without hesitation, Nasser reached out and wrapped his arms around it. "Ah, right, we haven’t greeted each other properly. It’s good to see you again. If you’re here, that must mean there are more familiar faces waiting. Isn’t that right, my lord?"

Instead of a reply, Selim let out a playful snort. Releasing Nilla from his embrace, Nasser glanced to the side. Left alone, Selim nudged Nila lightly with its head.

Nasser caught sight of a figure walking toward the house, their back turned.

"Come on, Nilla. Let’s give them some time to reunite." With that, Nasser led Selim forward, patting Nilla’s neck as he walked.

"And what’s this scar on your side? Looks like you’ve picked up quite a story."

With Nasser’s voice fading behind her, Mev strode straight to the old wooden door. Just as she reached for the handle, her fingers froze.

Taking a moment to collect herself, she removed her helmet. Her rich red hair spilled down past her shoulders. After running a hand through it, she tucked the helmet under her arm.

Creak—

Mev pushed open the door.

The musty scent of mold wafted out, and the dim candlelight from the wall cast a faint glow across the shabby interior. Her gaze landed on the back of a man wearing a hooded cloak, standing at the table with his back turned. It was clear he had already sensed her presence.

As she stepped inside, her voice came out shaky, almost unsure. "Ian?"

The man’s shoulders tensed at the sound of her voice. A metallic click followed as he sheathed his sword. He had drawn it without her noticing.

"Thought I was about to get robbed." At the voice that followed, Mev froze. The man turned, removing his hood. A rugged face with a thick beard and a scar like a bear’s claw came into view.

"Miguel?" Mev muttered, bewildered, staring at the man.

Miguel offered her a faint, bitter smile. "Sorry to disappoint. I’m not him."