I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

Chapter 142

When the party returned after just a few hours, the stable master was startled but quickly handed over the horses.

The wagon was still dirty, and the horses hadn’t had proper rest. However, they couldn’t buy new ones. Their horses were the largest and best bred, especially the warhorses from the North. Fortunately, the stable master had fed them well.

Philip drove the wagon a bit faster than usual and finally spoke once they were a good distance from the city.

“We met with Priest Duncan. We didn’t know him before.”

This wasn’t particularly relevant to Ian.

In Menere, there was a priest who had helped track down corrupted ones, dying in the process. Mev and Philip had gone to deliver his belongings and last words to a former colleague.

"...So, the priest provided several helpful pieces of information. He even knew about someone named Priest Jurd. Apparently, he was once part of the Great Church of the system. Hmm, I seem to have digressed."

"You did from the very start." Ian, leaning back in his seat, scratched his head.

Philip continued nonchalantly. “Here’s the main point. He warned us that Stoneville is currently assembling an expedition. Viscount Calderdale has quietly amassed a substantial fortune. Considering he expanded his territory under Marquess Rumcopa from his days as a baron, he must be quite capable.”

“Just north of here is a lawless region. He plans to subdue it and bring it under his control. He might have bigger ambitions. Anyway, he’s hired many free knights and mercenaries, in addition to soldiers.”

“...So among them, there are some who have issues with Sir Riruel.”

At Ian’s words, Philip shrugged. “It’s more about grudges. My lord always tried not to harm unrelated people while dealing with corrupted ones. But there were many mercenaries who lost their employers and knights who lost their lords before getting paid. It was unavoidable.”

“They should be grateful to be alive. Humans....” Charlotte clicked her tongue.

Philip smirked. “Not all are like that. Only those who refuse to accept that their lord was corrupted or are trying to recover their losses. Priest Duncan mentioned seeing several who said they would kill the Red Knight with their own hands.”

“Yeah... So it’s a matter of honor.” Ian nodded, his mouth dry.

Honor was one of the virtues knights especially valued in this world. From what he had observed, the less honorable a person was, the more they clung to it. It was similar to how gangsters talked about loyalty.

In contrast, truly honorable people sometimes willingly bore dishonor, like Mev in the past.

Charlotte added, “It seems this isn’t just a local issue. It’s going to be annoying.”

“Well, it’s occasional. Anyway, it seems we got through this one safely.” Philip concluded calmly.

Mev, who had been silently driving, spoke with a bitter smile. “Their desire for revenge is justified. Any honorable person would feel the same. But it’s my burden to bear. I apologize for dragging you into this.”

Ian responded calmly, “I suggested leaving this time as well. As long as you don’t force your ways on me, I don’t mind.”

“Even if I tried, you wouldn’t listen, would you?”

“Glad you know that.”

As Ian chuckled, the wagon started climbing another gentle slope.

Before they knew it, they were on the third hill. It was then that Charlotte suddenly looked back at Ian. Ian met her gaze with just his eyes and subtly began to speak.

“So, if someone with a grudge comes after you, what will you do? Just let them?”

“Of course not.”

Mev laughed dryly.

“I will fight. Just as their desire for revenge is justified, I believe my actions were right. If I’m wrong, the Goddess will punish me.”

Ian nodded and met Charlotte’s gaze again. Her eyes and ears perked, gleaming meaningfully.

Ian smirked and spoke. “Then prepare for a fight.”

“...!”

“There’s a pursuit.”

“Already?!” Philip’s eyes widened.

Ian stood up from his seat and said, “Not already. It’s been over an hour since we left the village.”

“How many are there? Are there many?”

“Hard to say. Slow down a bit, and conserve the horses’ energy. We can’t outrun them anyway.”

Then he climbed onto the roof of the wagon, closing his eyes to heighten his hearing. The sound of hooves pounding the ground grew louder. There were easily more than a dozen riders.

“Good, we were short on a horse” As he muttered, riders began to appear over the hill behind them.

They wore various armor, from full plate to chainmail with surcoats.

Mev, looking back, narrowed her eyes.

One of the riders, spotting the wagon, shouted loudly.

“You there! Stop right now and face us, or suffer the consequences!”

"Where are you running to, Red Knight? I am Vilhelm, a knight of Jacob who served Lord Blanfor! I will honor the lord’s spirit and reclaim my honor with your blood!"

"I am Orlando, a knight of Naslan—"

As the shouts of other riders continued, the knight who finished his declaration first began leading his men down the hill. The other knights did the same, each bringing their own followers. There were only about four, at most five, knights worthy of the title.

What a mess.

While thinking this, Ian took note of the group that was the last to ascend the hill. Those faces were familiar.

"Do you see, Ian? It’s that pointy-eared one from before." Charlotte, standing in the driver’s seat and looking back, lowered her voice.

She smiled, baring her fangs. "I’ll take care of that one. This time, I’ll rip off those ears—"

"No. I’ll take care of that one."

"What...?" Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Ian shrugged. "The truth is, I have business with that pointy-eared one, too. You assist Sir Riurel. No matter how skilled she is, she can’t handle all of them alone."

"...I guess it can’t be helped. Just make sure he suffers a painful death."

"That depends on him."

Ian slowly drew his longsword and looked at Findrel. Findrel was also staring back at him. Though there was quite a distance, it seemed to pose no problem for that elf knight.

Seeing the smile spreading across his face, Ian thought that perhaps he was the one who had brought these knights into the fray.

Considering how quickly rumors could spread in a town they had only stayed in for a few hours, this seemed more plausible. Not that it mattered whether it was true or not.

Schwing—

Mev turned his horse and halted, raising her sword high above her head. Her loud shout emerged from beneath the visor she had lowered at some point.

"I am Knight Mev Riurel! I accept your declarations! I will not pursue those who flee, so if you wish to live, turn your backs and leave at any time!"

Knights, indeed...

As Ian shook his head in exasperation, the leading group of knights continued shouting as they drew closer.

***

"Split into two groups. Half help those idiots, the other half overturn the wagon."

"Got it. Let’s go!"

The subordinates whipped their reins and charged forward. The knights who had rushed in were already engaged in battle.

Leisurely descending the hillside, Findrel took in the scene of the battlefield.

How fortunate.

Recognizing the Red Knight was purely by a coincidence. If he hadn’t listened to the other fools’ chatter at every opportunity, he wouldn’t have recognized her immediately.

Of course, he bore no ill will toward the Red Knight. His interest lay solely in the insolent beastwoman from earlier and the black-haired mercenary who had humiliated him.

Skin the beast to decorate... and throw the black-haired one’s head into the pigsty. And of course, retrieve the relic.

The knights’ spoils would suffice with the Red Knight and his squire’s heads. Without him, they wouldn’t have been able to track the Red Knight, so there would be no complaints.

There’s no way we can lose. No matter how skilled they are, we have over twenty heavily armed men.

Findrel watched the Red Knight engage in mounted combat. Contrary to rumors, she wasn’t scattering red divine power, but her skill seemed impressive. She tore through chainmail in one strike and moved freely atop her horse despite the heavy armor.

"A beast?! A mo, monster—ugh?!"

The beastfolk was quite impressive too. She attacked the horses like a wild animal, causing the riders to fall. Then she attacked them mercilessly.

What a disgusting beast...

"What’s with that lunatic?! Kill him!"

The commotion near the wagon arose shortly after. Turning his gaze, Findrel saw one of his subordinates having his head split by a sword. The one holding the hilt was the black-haired mercenary.

"...?"

Judging by his posture, it seemed he had leaped from the wagon toward his subordinate. It was a crazy act even for elves, but that guy pulled it off. He even kicked the dead man away, seizing the dead man’s sword and horse.

"What the..."

His mad antics didn’t stop there. Dodging attacks from the other approaching subordinates with clumsy movements, he stood on the running horse’s saddle. Then he leaped once more.

I thought he was a strange one... but he’s truly insane.

Amazingly, the crazy stunt succeeded again. Though blocked by a subordinate’s shield, somehow the shield exploded, causing the rider to fall. Black-haired Ian clung precariously to the horse like hanging off a cliff.

Findrel’s eyes narrowed.

What kind of relic is he using?

He didn’t think it was magic. No matter how crazy a mage was, they wouldn’t pull such stunts. Moreover, completing spells that quickly was nearly impossible. Even for lower-tier magic, a few seconds were needed.

Perhaps he was wearing some kind of magical artifact.

Crackle—

The shimmering golden light from the carriage caught his eye at that moment. One of his subordinates was thrown off his horse, entangled in the faintly glowing veil of light. The awkwardly standing squire and the sword he had thrust out finally came into view.

A relic?!

Findrel’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across his lips, almost tearing them. Looking around, it seemed the other knights were too engrossed in battle to notice. This meant he could steal the relic from that squire as well.

I’m incredibly lucky. Thank you, Great Mother... but, why hasn’t anyone died yet?

As he observed the battlefield, now much closer, Findrel tilted his head in confusion. The Red Knight was still fighting, entangled with the other knights.

Her armor was stained red with blood, but it wasn’t her own.

It was likely due to the beastwoman circling around her, dismounting riders. Her battle ax, despite being against plate armor, eventually tore through it.

Still, she’s definitely getting tired.

Hearing the labored breathing, Findrel nodded. It didn’t matter if the knights he brought along all died. Finishing off the exhausted ones himself would be a delightful conclusion. Of course, he had no intention of sending them off without pain.

"A—no...? Stop him!"

The urgent shout pierced his ears at that moment. Findrel snapped his head up, his eyes narrowing. Ian, covered in blood, was charging toward him. He saw his subordinates aiming crossbows at his back.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh—

The bolts cut through the air in unison. To the elven knight’s eyes, the trajectories were clear. Most were aimed accurately at Ian.

At least the training wasn’t in vain.

Ian, without even looking back, seemed to hang off the side of his saddle, making it appear he might fall. The bolts sliced through the air, and Ian, unharmed, was back in his saddle. He looked directly at Findrel, his lips moving.

Findrel could clearly read the shape of those words.

Run away now...?

Findrel’s smile deepened. He drew his sword from his waist. It was a thin, long rapier. Despite its appearance, it was a sturdy and lightweight masterpiece made from Imperial steel.

Ian climbed atop his saddle right after.

He’s gotten quite bold after pulling off a few crazy stunts.

Findrel let go of the saddle and steadied himself, taking a stance to face the enemy head-on. But this was a trick. Mounted combat was one of the elves’ specialties. He could maneuver his horse as he wished. When that lunatic lunged, he planned to swiftly turn his horse to make Ian tumble to the ground.

After that, he would circle around, making Ian bleed plenty. Given that Ian was undoubtedly using some sort of relic, there was no need to fight him head-on.

Swish!

Ian jumped at that moment. Despite the considerable distance still between them, he seemed unfazed.

Findrel prepared to turn his horse while pretending to thrust his sword.

If Ian fell at that speed, he would tumble all the way down the slope. There was no way a human could survive unscathed. Even if he broke his neck, it would be a spectacle worth watching. Just then, he noticed Ian’s eyes glowing a faint gray.

Magic...?!

Thud.

An invisible whirlwind surged in front of him. Findrel immediately recognized that it was a spell. It was an invisible barrier. It didn’t hit him, but it was enough to startle his horse into stopping instinctively.

Almost simultaneously, something flew at him. The elven knight’s keen eyesight identified the projectile even in that chaos.

It was a dagger, designed for throwing. And it wasn’t aimed at him, but at his horse.

This lunatic!

It was a psychological blind spot created by constantly targeting the rider. He hadn’t considered that the opponent might not intend a direct confrontation either.

With a crunch, the dagger lodged in his horse’s neck, causing it to collapse. Fortunately, they were climbing uphill, giving him time to react.

Findrel immediately kicked off the saddle and leaped.

Whoosh—

A gust of wind whipped around, altering Ian’s trajectory as he fell. Unlike Ian, Findrel couldn’t change direction mid-air.

Crash, he rolled across the ground, kicking up dust. The noise was loud, but the impact wasn’t as severe as expected. He had reflexes far superior to those of a human. But the situation was far from good. He could clearly hear Ian landing and stopping ahead of him.

By the time he finished rolling, Ian would be upon him. Findrel realized then that Ian was well-practiced in such insane maneuvers. But that didn’t change what he had to do. Rolling across the ground, Findrel’s eyes gleamed with a bluish light.

Contrary to human prejudice, most elves could wield magic. Only a chosen few could accumulate more than a minuscule amount.

Still, with effort, most could manage a lower-tier spell once or twice. Findrel was no exception. He had learned blue magic: Chill Wave.

It was the only spell he knew, but he was as proficient with it as any mage. That wretched human wouldn’t expect him to be preparing a spell at this moment. As he felt Ian’s footsteps approaching, Findrel smirked and finished his roll. Raising his head, he swiftly thrust out his left hand, imbued with blue magic.

Whoosh—

A surge disrupted his spell. Worse, the expelled mana backfired through his bloodstream.

"...!" Findrel froze, gasping for breath.

Ian, now charging at him, wiggled his left fingers with a smile.

"I told you, I know that your magic is worthless."

"You...!"

Findrel’s words were cut off as Ian lunged into his space. A sharp pain pierced his side, through the links of his chainmail.

"...?!"

Amid the distant shouts of his subordinates, Findrel’s expression turned puzzled. The pain wasn’t as deep as expected. He glanced down to see a crude dagger lodged in his side.

The paralysis set in immediately after.

"...!"

As Findrel’s eyes widened, Ian, who had extracted the Venomous Fang of the Cave Spider Queen and placed it back in his pocket dimension, smoothly retrieved the Meteoric Dagger and whispered.

"Everyone will think you’re dead. Just rest."

The Meteoric Dagger scraped against Findrel’s side. Already paralyzed, he couldn’t even scream. Ian quickly reached out with his left hand and forced his eyes shut.

In the darkness, Ian’s shout rang out clearly as he shoved Findrel aside and stood up.

"Your leader is dead! If you don’t want the same fate, retreat!"

The cry of I’m not dead echoed only in Findrel’s mind.

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