I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain Chapter 751

The group passed through the gorge running along the ridge of Mount Nosnel without losing their way. It was a valley they would likely never have chosen to enter, even by accident.

The road was surprisingly well-maintained, but it twisted sharply, climbed steeply, and carried an eerie atmosphere.

Of course, the landscape on the other side of the mountain was no different.

"Good grief... damn it all...."

That was why they had stopped the carriage in a suitably secluded spot before the descent. After tying the carriage to nearby trees, Miguel climbed back onto the driver’s seat and let out a sigh.

"Want to stay here with Nila and guard the carriage? Just say the word," said Ian.

Standing beside the carriage, he casually tossed pieces of removed equipnt into the carriage interior one by one. Nila, who had been standing in front of the warhorses like a barrier, turned sharply at the remark.

"Would you really allow that? Personally, I’d prefer the role of guard over a slave."

From inside the open carriage door ca Nasser’s voice, accompanied by the clatter of armor as he organized their gear.

Miguel clicked his tongue and looked away. "I can’t sit this one out after coming all this way. As I said, I need to see for myself what kind of bastards tried to do sothing so evil to Lucy."

Of course you do.

Ian chuckled quietly and reached for the formal robe hanging by the carriage door.

Nila snorted in apparent disappointnt, then shoved Moro’s head aside as the other horse wandered too close.

anwhile, Miguel added casually, "But I agree with Nasser. I’d feel more comfortable playing the slave than the guard."

"Exactly, Ian. No matter how you look at it, Prosthetic here has zero talent for acting," said Thesaya from the other side of the carriage.

She and v were changing clothes there.

"Just say his hand was cut off as ‌punishnt for so cri."

"I already told you that’s not happening," Ian replied imdiately.

Nasser was planning to wear the relic equipnt Ian had used when he fought the Heaven Defier. The dwarven craftsn had repaired it, though the stats had dropped significantly. Still, the various resistance bonuses remained intact.

It was possible because Nasser’s build wasn’t very different from Ian’s, apart from being a little taller.

"If you’re worried about your equipnt being confiscated, perhaps I could simply wear mine first and—"

Nasser poked his head out of the carriage, but the mont he saw Ian’s expression, he imdiately withdrew.

"...Yes, that would certainly be inefficient. If nothing happens, you’d have to take it all off and put it back on."

"Ugh...." Miguel groaned in resignation and began removing the fur cloak draped over his shoulders.

anwhile, Ian slipped on the formal attire he had brought from Travelga, the set that had originally belonged to Sir Phaden.

—Everyone seems quite busy....

A whisper laced with laughter brushed against his mind.

Yog had awakened as the sun began to set.

—So that’s our destination, my friend?

Ian’s eyes twitched faintly.

Yog’s head slipped out from his sleeve as it spoke lazily.

"Yeah," Ian replied while scanning the area beyond the ridge, covered in skeletal trees.

At its center lay Lake Eldor, the place Ohara had ntioned. Even from this distance, the surface of the lake was clearly visible, still and pitch-black.

There wasn’t a single tree around it.

—Such an ominous place... I like it.

It wasn’t difficult to guess that the magic tower was responsible for the unnatural landscape. They likely hadn’t intended it, but the darkness they harbored had grown too great to conceal completely.

In that sense, the frontier becoming a demonic wasteland might have actually benefited them. To anyone unaware, the place would simply look like another cursed patch of land.

And right now, the lake wasn’t the only thing hiding what lay beneath the surface.

"Save your admiration for Miguel’s neck," Ian said as he fastened the buttons of the robe.

Miguel, who had just finished removing his priestly robes and was equipping armor, grimaced deeply.

—This might be the first ti I’ve disliked the role you’ve given .

Yog clicked its tongue softly and turned into smoke. As the smoke drifted toward Miguel, Ian watched with hollow, sunken eyes.

We’ll talk soon.

It was now certain that Yog would eventually betray them. Once this was over, Ian intended to find an opportunity to probe the creature’s true intentions, without letting it realize he knew.

"Lu Entre...." Miguel’s groan ca from the driver’s seat. Yog had coiled itself around his neck.

After all, Miguel was supposed to act as Ian’s guard. Yog needed to look like a familiar coiled there instead of a set of shackles.

—Being stuck with this idiot who can’t even understand what I say... this is the worst.

Ignoring Yog’s irritated whisper, Ian grabbed the hooded cloak hanging on the carriage door.

As he wrapped it around himself, Thesaya appeared behind the carriage.

"Good heavens. You really do look like a proper spellcaster now, Ian."

She was holding a pile of v’s plate gauntlets, bracers, and other armor pieces in her arms.

"And you look like a convincing slave," Ian replied while tightening the knot of the cloak’s fastening strap.

Thesaya was currently wearing nothing but the undergarnts they had brought from Travelga. Even the sleeves were ragged and filthy. She had clearly dirtied and torn them on purpose.

"I’m not just a slave. I’m a test subject."

"The slaves are and Nasser," v added as she stepped out from behind Thesaya.

She wore the Cloak of the Undying over a set of dirty underclothes. The cloak had been deliberately shredded into rags, no longer resembling anything valuable.

"Enjoy it while you can, Ian. When else will you get the chance to be a spellcaster?" Thesaya stopped in front of him and smiled, holding out v’s armor pieces.

"You seem to have forgotten. I am a spellcaster," Ian replied with a faint bitterness as he began placing the equipnt into his pocket dinsion.

Currently, his pocket dinsion contained only the divine sword and the equipnt intended for Nasser. Everything else had been left inside the carriage to maximize the available space.

"It’s fascinating every ti I see it," Thesaya murmured as she handed him the final item—a jewel.

Ian tied the jewel’s chain around his finger while v, now standing beside her, added, "Will it all fit?"

"I’ll stack it carefully. It’ll be fine. If there’s not enough space, I can always pull out the gear ant for Nasser," Ian shrugged.

Nasser climbed down from the carriage, holding a shield and sword, a coil of rope slung over his shoulder.

"As long as I can keep the shield, I can do without the gauntlets and bracers, my lord."

"Seems like the problem would be solved if we didn’t store the shield," Ian replied, gesturing to Moro.

The beast snorted and trotted over from where it had been standing beside Nila.

Nasser smiled. "As you know, it’s practically part of ."

"Let’s see first." Ian nodded.

Nasser leaned his sword and shield against the carriage wheel as Thesaya walked over to him.

"Your clothes are way too clean, Half-Ear. Co here. I’ll tear them up for you."

"Please be gentle, Elder. It’s cold."

"You’re not the only one who’s cold." Thesaya began ripping at his clothes without rcy.

With a resigned sigh, Nasser stepped toward Moro to tie the rope to its saddle.

"This is the first ti I’ve really felt like you’re a mage, Ian," v said as she handed him the last pieces of equipnt.

One corner of Ian’s mouth lifted. "Not like a dark mage?"

"You don’t look like one at all."

"May I speak honestly?" Miguel’s voice ca from the side.

Ian and v turned at the sa ti as Miguel jumped down from the driver’s seat.

"If you pull the hood down over your face, you’ll look like a dark mage."

"What excellent advice." Ian let out a short laugh and looked at him.

Miguel had simply removed his priest’s robes and put on combat gear, a transformation that instantly took him back to his rcenary days.

"I know it’s strange seeing like this. Only been a few years, and yet... heh." Miguel laughed. He didn’t seem to think so himself.

Ian didn’t bother correcting him.

"Don’t pull any stupid tricks, Yog," said Ian while placing v’s breastplate into his pocket dinsion.

Yog flicked its violet tongue lazily.

—I don’t even feel like it, so don’t worry, my friend.

At least this ti, it was clearly telling the truth.

Ian fought back a chuckle.

"I should probably help them. I’ll get ready," v added before turning away.

She walked toward Nasser and Thesaya, who were standing behind Moro, struggling to tie the rope around their wrists to the saddle.

"Just hold your hands out in front of you."

"Don’t tie it too tight, Redhead. We’re only pretending."

"I know. Don’t worry. Fake knots aren’t exactly a difficult trick. I’ll show you." v skillfully bound Nasser’s wrists.

"Do the mages in the Gray Magic Tower really treat slaves like this?" asked Miguel.

"You’re asking that now?" Ian let out a faint chuckle. In truth, the plan was based on Thesaya’s testimony.

The blue mage who had taught her magic once said that when the towers brought in slaves, they blindfolded them and dragged them in bound with ropes. Of course, anyone brought inside that way would never leave again—not even in death.

"The Gray Tower probably isn’t much different. They won’t rely solely on Larmut’s support. And even if they do things differently, we’ve prepared an excuse."

"Well... I’m sure you’ll handle it." Clicking his tongue, Miguel began unfastening the leather straps securing his prosthetic arm.

Ian placed the prosthetic Miguel had handed over into his pocket dinsion and nodded. "I’ll say it again. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes down."

"I still don’t understand why sothing that simple is so hard for ," Miguel muttered with a low sigh as he turned away.

Ian shook his head and turned toward the carriage.

In truth, it didn’t matter if Miguel looked tense and broke into a cold sweat. To spellcasters, it would only look like fear. To them, a frightened, one-ard bodyguard wouldn’t be worth worrying about.

"...As I thought, no luck."

Picking up Nasser’s shield, Ian clicked his tongue. His pocket dinsion was already so full that not even a single extra sword would fit inside. Soon, he slipped his hand into the pocket dinsion and stepped toward the open carriage door.

Inside, their removed gear and storage chests had been neatly arranged.

Only after placing a pair of relic gauntlets and bracers on the floor did the shield finally fit inside the pocket dinsion.

No matter how I look at it, this is a loss.

Even thinking that, Ian closed the carriage door without hesitation. He fastened Nasser’s sword at the waist of his formal robe and turned around.

A faint, wry smile soon appeared on his lips. Behind Moro, whose reins Miguel now held, the rest of the group stood lined up in a row.

"See, Ian? Looks convincing, doesn’t it?" Standing at the very back, Thesaya lifted her bound wrists and smiled.

Ian walked up beside Moro and nodded casually. "Looks a little tight."

"It only looks that way. If I slip my thumb into this loop and pull, it cos right off. Redhead’s got so tricks."

With one foot on the stirrup, Ian glanced toward Nasser and v standing in front of her. Nasser, in turn, began wrapping the rope around v's wrists.

"Is this how it’s supposed to go?"

"Yeah. You can pull it tighter."

All three of them even wore leather blindfolds pushed up over their brows like headbands.

Ian swung himself onto Moro’s saddle and muttered, "I really feel like a corrupted spellcaster."

"That’s exactly what I was thinking," Miguel added.

Ian then pinned a tal insignia to the collar of his robe. It was the emblem of the Gray Magic Tower that Ohara had given him.

After that, he pulled his hood low over his face and glanced to the side.

Snort...

Nila was approaching.

The horse ignored Moro’s intense stare as if it were used to it.

"Sorry for leaving you behind, Nila." Ian curled the corner of his lips and reached out to stroke its head.

"It might take longer than expected. Guard the carriage and the horses for while we’re gone."

Nila snorted lightly as if to say, not to worry.

Ian patted its head.

"We’re ready," Thesaya said from behind.

Ian looked over the group lined up with ropes binding their wrists, then let out a chuckle. "What a sight..."

At that mont, Miguel began walking forward, holding Moro’s reins. Clicking his tongue, he shook his head as he led them onward.