I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain Chapter 547

Chapter 547

Wagons lined the roadside like a folding screen as bonfires blazed throughout the encampnt. The low-lying fog couldn't stop the oil-soaked firewood from catching fla.

"Don't spare the at! You have to eat well, especially on a day when you've seen blood."

"Bring more drinks! Surely you're not going to act like misers after a near-death experience, are you?"

Porters diligently carried boxes filled with food, wine, and other supplies. The guards sitting around the bonfires chattered loudly as they tended to their wounds and cleaned their weapons. More than a few fell asleep as if knocked out the mont they sat down.

"Eat your fill."

"We'll be resting here until sunrise, so don't you worry."

The rchants moved among them, constantly offering words of encouragent and directing the situation, all the while not forgetting to occasionally glance toward the carriage at the rear with peculiar expressions.

"H-He's coming!" one of the porters on watch shouted not long after.

That single phrase was enough to silence the bustling area in an instant. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their heads in the sa direction as if on cue.

Clip-clop, clip-clop—

The sound of hoofbeats was approaching from beyond the shadows cast by the bonfires. Through the fog, which was gradually thinning, the figure of a black warhorse clad in armor and the rider upon it beca clear. He wore a deep hood and carried a greatsword with a sharp, fang-like point slung low.

Even as the firelight spread, only the lower half of the rider's face, below his nose, was visible beneath the hood. Not many noticed the gray, branch-like object he carried in front of his saddle.

"He's finally back..."

"Where on earth has he been?"

Everyone was too busy scrambling to their feet. Even those who had been laughing and joking now wore solemn expressions. It was only natural. This rider was the savior who had saved all their lives, and, of course, an apostle of a god.

Clip-clop, clip-clop—

As the rider drew closer, those who had been holding their hands clasped before their chests bowed their heads one by one.

"Glory to the radiant light…"

"May infinite grace be upon the apostle of the god…"

"O light… thank you."

I told you I'm not a paladin.

Despite his thought, Ian gave a casual nod. In any case, it was clear no one yet knew his true identity or na. Which ant Regin had followed his orders well—and so had the rchant of the Lighthouse Trading Company.

—Over there, Apostle.

Ian’s brow twitched slightly at the whisper that tickled his mind. The teasing intent was obvious.

He already knew where Yog was pointing. At the very rear of the line of wagons, next to a luxurious carriage with a roofed wall, a familiar orc warrior stood guard. The group’s horses were also gathered behind the carriage, resting. Moro snorted, veering naturally in that direction.

—A sha. I thought I’d get to see a bunch of bloated corpses.

You’re the only one who’d want to rest next to that slly pile of bodies.

Ian let out a low snort. The campsite was a good distance from the battlefield. They had clearly moved on after cleaning up and found a new spot. Thanks to the fog, even Ian caught almost no trace of the stench.

"…Benefactor."

Soone fell in step beside Moro then. It was a middle-aged Imperial man, his dress marking him as a rchant. Ian didn’t recognize him.

"It is late, but I offer my sincerest thanks. You have saved all our lives."

"I will accept your thanks, but let’s leave it at that. They were enemies I would have had to face anyway to pass through," Ian replied without even a glance.

The Imperial rchant bowed his head low. "Truly… you are noble…"

Not really.

Just as Ian was about to click his tongue inwardly, the rchant put his right hand into his coat and added, "I am ashad that the only reward we could think of is a worldly one. However, though it may be small, it is prepared with our heartfelt gratitude, so please do not refuse."

The rchant pulled out a fist-sized leather pouch from his coat, held it up high above his head with both hands, and offered it respectfully.

A faint arc ford on Ian’s lips. "How could I refuse such sincerity?"

The door of the distant carriage burst open just as Ian took the pouch. Regin, who ca running out, shouted as he approached, "I will escort you!"

It was likely Lucia who had told him, having heard Yog’s whisper.

When Regin sent a pointed look, the rchant’s expression soured. However, in the end, he didn’t ignore the silent pressure.

"It is a sha I do not even know your na. Then, I hope to see you again, benefactor." The rchant bowed and turned away.

Ian, a smile still on his lips, simply nodded. The pouch in his hand was quite heavy. He could tell just from the feel of it that it was full of gold coins. It was likely not just a token of gratitude but also an attempt to open a connection.

Just then, Regin, who had run up, slid to a stop beside Moro. "Well fought… Great Warrior."

Ian looked at him as he added the last part in a lowered voice. Regin’s eyes were still burning with a fiery passion.

He’s going to burn a hole through my face.

"You’ve handled things very well," said Ian.

"I have only done what was necessary. Let us go. Your companions are waiting." Regin gestured toward the carriage with his palm.

Ian, turning his gaze, added, "Your employer has changed."

"Ah, yes, that’s how it turned out." Regin paused and lowered his head slightly.

At the faint sha in his voice, Ian looked down at him and asked, "Did sothing happen to the head of the Windmill Trading Company?"

"No. It is just…" Regin hesitated for a mont before adding, "We have parted ways, Great Warrior."

"Aha."

So he just changed employers.

There must have been so kind of discord.

Ian let out a low snort and added, "A contract is just a contract. There’s no need to be embarrassed about changing employers."

"Yes, thank you," Regin answered a beat late, as if the words had hit ho, then looked up again. "And I am glad you have returned safely. Many in the North will rejoice when the news reaches them."

Ian let out a chuckle. "So I’ve heard. You wouldn’t know, but the barbarians were the first to know of my return."

"Is that so? Karha must have given so kind of revelation," added Regin, who had tilted his head, seeming to understand the situation.

"Well, yeah, sothing like that," Ian replied, tugging on the reins.

They had reached the side of the wagon.

Stepping into the stirrup, Ian looked back at the now quietly bustling campsite and said, "I’m hungry. Could you prepare sothing for to eat?"

"Of course. I will prepare it and bring it to you right after I escort you."

"Bring a piece of at for this one, too. Raw, if possible." Dismounting, Ian handed over the reins.

"Indeed… even the horse you ride has a unique taste. Understood," Regin let out an admiring murmur as he took the reins.

As Moro snorted, Ian, who had picked up the gray branch he had placed in front of his saddle, turned around.

"You have worked hard." Mukapa, who had been looking at him, bowed his head slightly.

"Not at all. Will you be joining us?"

"No. I will remain here on guard. The Elder requested that no one be allowed to eavesdrop on your conversation."

Everyone but seems to be making good use of this guy.

Ian held out the fang greatsword, the blade parallel to the ground. "Then would you mind holding my greatsword for a mont? It’s too cumberso to take inside."

Mukapa imdiately took the sword, supporting the flat of the blade and the hilt with both hands, and asked, "May I wipe it down?"

"I would be grateful if you did."

With a faint smile tugging at his lips, Ian stepped up into the carriage. Inside was a surprisingly spacious cabin with facing seats.

"You’ve arrived!" The head of the Lighthouse Trading Company rose slightly from his seat in greeting.

Nodding, Ian took in the interior. It was as luxurious as its exterior suggested. Along the ceiling’s centerline, straight grooves were etched in rows, and a softly glowing Magic Stone Lamp hung there.

"You took longer than I expected, Agent of the Saint," added Thesaya, sitting across from the rchant with one leg crossed. She even held a pewter goblet in one hand.

Getting quite the royal treatnt, I see.

"I went down to the river," Ian replied, sitting in the empty seat directly in front of him as Mukapa closed the carriage door.

—And it was very boring.

Yog’s comntary followed.

Lucia, sitting opposite Ian, t his gaze. She had set her mask atop her head and was holding a wine cup in her left hand.

Her gaze, which had been observing Ian’s condition, was now fixed on the gray branch he held in his left hand. Her expression was one of complete bewildernt.

Now it’s wine whenever she gets a chance.

Smirking inwardly, Ian leaned the branch at an angle beneath his seat.

"I am glad you have returned safely, Agent of the Saint," a resonant voice followed from the side.

The head of the Lighthouse Trading Company, still half-risen from his seat, was looking at him. The reason for his awkward posture was likely the low ceiling.

As Ian looked at him, he finally bent his knee in the Imperial style. "My apologies for the late greeting. I am Jamal of the Lighthouse Trading Company. It has been a long ti."

"It has been a long ti," Ian replied with a calm nod.

Finally sitting back down, Jamal showed a sowhat greasy-looking smile. "I am pleased to see the master of the golden insignia again like this. I had heard the rumors of your return and had hoped to et you again, but I did not expect it to be today."

"The sa goes for . From the looks of it…" Ian stared at Jamal for a mont and smiled. "Your business seems to have prospered quite a bit in the anti."

Jamal’s attire was noticeably more luxurious and flamboyant than he rembered. He’d never dressed plainly, but it hadn’t been embroidered with gold thread and adorned with dangling gold accessories like it was now. And on top of that, he’d even hired Regin, a man Ian knew wouldn’t have co cheap.

Jamal’s thick lips curved into an arc. "It is thanks to you, Agent of the Saint."

"The only thing I seem to have done is disappear."

"Even so, your reputation did not disappear, Agent of the Saint. In fact, your na beca even more renowned after you disappeared beyond the Black Wall. Just as with the forr Crown Prince, there were many who believed you were still alive. Of course…" Jamal’s smile deepened slightly. "We were among them."

"I am glad I was able to reward your faith."

Though I wasn’t the only one who did the rewarding.

Jamal lowered his voice. "And Her Highness the Princess has also beco a mber of the Alliance."

"You an Her Highness Seras," Ian murmured.

Jamal readily nodded. "I know that the connection was also made through you, Agent of the Saint. The leader ntioned ‌at a regular eting that it was thanks to the Agent of the Saint that Her Highness was able to be issued a golden insignia."

So he went and blabbed about that, too.

Ian, recalling the Imperial rchant who seed to seek out nothing but trouble and shook his head slightly. "Is the head of the Ark Caravan doing well?"

"He should be. He seems to travel between the Northern snowfields and the frontier every season. I don’t think he’s making enough profit to match the risks he’s taking, though…"

"The frontier…" A faint smile touched Ian’s lips. It seed Fael was keeping his promise to Philip. And not just once, but continuously.

"How have you been, Agent of the Saint? Beyond the Wall, I an," Jamal added then.

They all do this the mont they make eye contact.

Ian, once again faced with the reason he didn’t want to reveal his identity, let out an inward scoff and replied, "Many things happened. It doesn’t seem like a story for here."

"You are right. There is another story that must be told now," Thesaya interjected suggestively.

Glancing at Lucia, Thesaya looked at Ian with a playful smile on her lips. "What on earth is that spoil of war you have placed beside you, Agent of the Saint? It looks like a staff."

"It is a thing that can be used as such," Ian replied, picking up the gray branch beside him and holding it up. "This is a fragnt of the enemy I dealt with. As you can see, it’s coral."

As he had said before, it was also a piece of equipnt whose information window he could check.

The Branch of the Abyssal Man-Eating Coral was a rare-grade magic staff. It was an item exclusively for the corrupted, specifically dark mages. It couldn’t even maintain its form like this without being bound by infusing it with chaos.

"You an the coral that grows under the sea?" Jamal said, frowning.

Ian nodded. "This one had taken root on a riverbank and was growing above ground."

A vision of that enormous, ashen coral flashed through Ian’s mind—the way it shimred with ominous purple light, exhaling a briny mist. It had been the very source spewing waves of chaos power.

"Its roots were, of course, human. Several were entangled together. It must have grown in the sea and then crawled up with the drowned corpses to take root."

Jamal’s brow furrowed. He was likely imagining the scene of an enormous coral sprouting from a tangle of corpses, dragging itself out of the water alongside drowned corpses crusted with barnacles.

—As I said, it was a boring one. It couldn’t even put up a proper fight while Ian was cutting it down.

Jamal, on the other hand, seed to instinctively lean back toward the wall, putting more space between himself and the coral.

"I thought so…" Lucia murmured.

Nodding after a glance at Thesaya, she looked back at Ian. "Most of those drowned corpses from earlier were people who were trying to cross the inner sea."