I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

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It was Philip who grabbed her arm and helped her up.

On the other side, Miguel, whose arm was supporting her, looked at her.

“Could you be injured again-“

Kookookookoo-

A familiar vibration drowned out his voice.

Philip, Miguel, and Maeve all turned their heads almost simultaneously toward the source of the vibration.

Ian stood at the threshold of the pathway, a stone wall rising before him.

Maeve’s eyes widened.contemporary romance

“Ian-!”

In an instant, Ian’s figure vanished behind the wall.

Almost involuntarily, the ancient language of red letters appeared in her mind.

“Damn lunatic, cursed, dog-like…!”

As Miguel cursed, debris scattered in his exclamation.

While he was doing so, Philip, who had been glancing at the debris, looked back at Maeve.

“Sir! What should we do now?”

Even his stiffness subsided momentarily.

Maeve’s head turned to the left.

The only path left.

“…Follow me.”

Maeve, clutching her sword as if she were wringing it, finally started walking.

Given the situation, there was no choice but to proceed.

Whatever awaited beyond.

***

Ippotranslation

***

“What did you see to make that face…?”

Staring at the stone wall blocking their path, Ian muttered under his breath.

Of all places, he had stopped at a crossroads.

Although he didn’t understand the situation, Ian shrugged his shoulders.

What was done was done.

Besides, if it was Maeve, she would be able to survive with Philip and Miguel for a while.

“…It’ll be over before it’s too late.”

Ian turned his body without lingering.

Beyond the corridor, dozens of skeletal knights with armor worn over them were staring at him.

Of course, now that he was alone, the number of those creatures meant nothing.

Swoosh- thud!

Ian, who had leaned over, suddenly leaped forward.

Kaaang-!

Parrying a sword strike from one skeletal knight with his mace, Ian discarded the weapon’s shaft and lunged forward without hesitation.

Rows of alcoves on either side brushed past him.

Before he knew it, Ian’s gaze was fixed on an obscure pedestal behind the chapel.

A statue of a fairy knight, one knee bent, the sword thrust into the ground.

‘Looks just like the game.’

Having avoided the skeletal knights, Ian dashed toward the statue.

And then, from a suitable distance, he leaped.

Thump-

In midair, Ian stepped on the weight of the sword that the statue had thrust into the ground like a performer executing an acrobatic move.

Slightly delayed, the sword sank deeper into the pedestal.

Clank- kookookoo-

As the pedestal moved backward, stairs leading further down were revealed.

This was the hidden shortcut.

In the game, he had used this path as an exit after killing the dark mage.

The advancing skeletal beings came to a sudden halt.

Glowing eyes in the quiet.

Were they beckoning him to enter?

Ian smiled as if in response and leaped down the stairs.

The stairs ran straight but then took a turn.

When Ian rounded the corner, one of the walls soon disappeared.

His field of view expanded instantly.

A vast underground chamber.

‘I never would’ve guessed King Agellan had a place like this.’

Descending the stairs that continued along the wall, Ian surveyed his surroundings.

A dense pattern of spell circuits stretched far into the distance.

The large columns that rose throughout the area were grand, as if the massive temple had been moved entirely underground.

Indeed, that was the reality.

This was the temple where the ancient fairies worshiped the god of death.

The altar soaring high at the center where the spell circuits converged served as evidence of this.

On the altar, there were half-broken stone statues and a massive chair made of all sorts of bones.

And the one responsible for corrupting the ruins was seated right on that chair.

Clad in a robe that covered even their head, they were imbued with flowing magic power.

“You’ve managed to crawl your way here… I must commend your perseverance, Red Bug,” a voice resonated, sharp as iron.

With streaks of purple light radiating from their eyes, the dark mage slowly rose to their feet.

“But don’t expect your feeble tricks to work here as well…”

The voice that had been leisurely speaking suddenly halted.

A fleeting moment of wavering in the dark mage’s gaze.

Kwaaaaaah—

Flames that could rival a dragon’s breath engulfed the entire altar.

Kwarr—

The flames that had been pouring down with the force to melt the altar gradually subsided after a while.

Amidst the swirling smoke, Ian extended his left hand, revealing his appearance.

Heat akin to a volcano’s emanated from the core of his clenched fist.

“Seems you lack the ability to learn…”

Ian mocked with a grin.

“Th… Know this!”

Breaking through the smoke that covered the altar, the purple light in the mage’s eyes burst forth.

“How dare you interrupt me again!”

The dark mage burst through the smoke, their robe torn to shreds, revealing its true form.

“Don’t think it’ll be the same as before! Your feeble spells won’t work anymore!”

“Such a talker. Just like a true rich person.”

Ian sneered, scrutinizing the mage.

Their face, as well as their whole body, were contorted and twisted like a mirage, with extra bone-made arms sprouting from their shoulders.

It was an eerie and unprecedented sight, although it was more pitiable than Ian’s memories suggested.

In the game, the mage was reduced to nothing but bones, with six arms remaining, and a large gem embedded in their forehead.

“Y-you insect-like creature!”

Enraged, the mage’s voice trembled.

Purple magic spread from behind the altar, and it was sucked into the mage’s magic staff.

A colossal spirit started forming behind them.

Summoning a commander. An assembly of undead with physical forms charged forth. However, Ian was already rushing towards the altar.

“You will understand how insignificant you are thoroughly! Endless torment shall follow!”

The mage clenched their left hand, magic energy forming a bond.

Pewseok— Phusseus—

Skeletons emerged from the ground like a scene from a horror movie.

Skeletons larger and longer than humans.

They were the remains of ancient fairy priests buried deep underground.

Although he found himself surrounded in an instant, Ian’s gaze remained calmly collected.

‘Feels weaker than I remember. Maybe the transformation isn’t complete yet.’

In the game, the sorcerer flew around, using various spells and summons, and their patterns were intricate.

However, that also meant they had low health and were vulnerable to physical attacks.

If one could get close, they could be defeated quite easily. With his current state of imperfection, it might be even easier.

“Are you afraid? You’ve stiffened up already, how pitiful. The real fear is only beginning.”

The mage extended their staff.

All the undead within the barrier started charging at Ian.

“Isn’t it the opposite? Idiot.”

Ian’s pupils turned red again.

With his fist’s core spinning, countless fireballs emerged around him.

Dancing flames.

The inferior level 2 red magic, learned casually for its ease, multiplied as it passed through the core, resulting in an enormous number of flames. Although it was difficult to aim precisely, it didn’t matter this time because enemies were everywhere.

Kwaaagh—

The charging skeletons collided with the fireballs, exploding into pieces.

Intense heat and shattered bone fragments scattered in all directions.

Shwik—!

In the midst of it all, Ian shot forward.

Seeing him rush toward him, the mage muttered.

“You said it wouldn’t work, didn’t you?”

They brandished their staff, radiating purple magic.

As spirits wailed along the trajectory of magic, a barrier formed.

Kweeaaa—

From within the barrier, a mournful sound erupted.

Just after Ian hurled a fireball at the ground.

Fweong—!

The fireball exploded shortly after being launched, creating an explosion.

In the resulting reaction, Ian’s body, engulfed in smoke, shot upward again.

“What…?!”

Perhaps not anticipating this, the mage made a metallic sound.

While jumping over the spirit barrier, Ian twisted his body.

His gray eyes gleamed.

With the wind swirling around his entire body, his spinning form shot toward the mage like an arrow.

Unbeknownst to the mage, a new mace had appeared in Ian’s right hand.

The mage, who had covered their face with their four arms, hastily retreated, but they couldn’t be faster than Ian.

The wind that had gathered around the flail’s head spun fiercely.

Kwajijik—!

Alongside the two bone arms, one of the mage’s shoulders was obliterated by the flail.

“K-aaaah—!”

The mage bent their body back like a bow, letting out a scream.

As Ian rolled over the altar and landed, he murmured, tongue-in-cheek.

“Missed. Darn.”

Translator; ippo

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