I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 397

"Uh, what?" The red-bearded dwarf's smile froze.

His curly-bearded companion seemed equally caught off guard, but Ian paid them no mind and continued. "In the end, you're just saying you'll play around with my gear, spruce it up a bit, and hand it back, right? These are rare artifacts, as you know."

Ian's gaze shifted to the other dwarves gathering behind the pair. "And it's not like you're the only craftsmen here. Everyone seems quite skilled."

"What— did you say?" As the approaching dwarves nodded in agreement, the expressions on the faces of the red-bearded and curly-bearded dwarves twisted into scowls.

Speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, Ian continued, "As you can see, I lack several essential pieces of gear right now. Boots. Chain mail or padded armor to wear underneath. Gloves and even—"

He tapped the hilt of his Truesilver Steel Sword at his waist. "A proper scabbard. On top of that, our priestess' equipment is in dire shape."

Glancing at Lucia briefly, Ian raised a hand to his head. Removing the Black Crown of the Dark Elder Fairy, he held it out for the dwarves to see. "This was a gift from the capital. Apparently, it once belonged to a dark elder fairy."

"Dark fairy?!" A low gasp escaped from Diana nearby, her shock cleart.

Her eyes reflected disbelief, as though such a possibility had never even crossed her mind. Perhaps she hadn't even realized Ian was wearing it—it wrapped around the back of his head, not sitting atop it like a traditional crown, and its dark, dull appearance blended seamlessly with his hair.

"Though it doesn't seem like the dark fairies made this either." With a faint smile, Ian looked over the dwarves slowly, his tone measured. "If you can solve the issues I just mentioned, I'll show you everything. Of course, I'm not suggesting this as payment for the gear."

Ian's gaze lingered on the red-bearded and curly-bearded dwarves as he reached behind his back. From his pocket dimension, he pulled out a small leather pouch and held it up beside his face.

"This contains six finely cut magic stones and one intermediate grade essence bead. If you'd prefer, I could also give you about a dozen Imperial gold coins." As he finished speaking, Ian placed the Black Crown back on his head.

A peculiar hush settled over the gathering, only to be broken moments later.

"Would doing part of that be enough?" one of the dwarves blurted out.

Ian gave an easy nod. "Of course. Everyone has their specialties. My equipment isn't going to wear out just from being looked at or handled."

"In that case—"

"Hold it." The red-bearded dwarf, who had been glaring at his fellow dwarves with a reddening face, cut in sharply.

His gruff voice rang out. "Are you trying to cut in line? We were the first to meet this lanky friend here. We already had our eyes on his gear. I told you that, didn't I?"

So, even dwarves have their code of ethics, huh?

Another dwarf, undeterred, responded, "And that's why we waited here, isn't it? We didn't even talk to him until now."

"Right. Corvo, you've already made your offer, haven't you? The tall one declined. That means it's our turn now."

"Besides, he's the one who set the terms. Looks like there's no problem here."

The surrounding dwarves began chiming in, one after another. The red-bearded Corvo's face, along with his curly-bearded companion's, grew visibly darker.

"Damn it. Bloody hell."

"So, what exactly is this part you're offering?" Ian interjected, his gaze fixed on the first dwarf who had spoken.

The dwarf quickly responded. "I'm quite skilled with leather. I can craft an underlayer for your armor or a scabbard perfectly suited to that fine sword of yours."

"Sounds tempting. What's your price?"

"Just one magic stone. In return, I'd like to inspect your armor and sword as well."

"Okay, deal." Ian nodded without hesitation, then looked around at the other dwarves. "Just to be clear, my sword is only for visual inspection. No tossing it in a forge or hammering at it. As for disassembly, I'll allow it for the armor, greaves, and the obsidian crown—but nothing else."

"I specialize in intricate metalwork," another dwarf quickly volunteered, raising his hand. "I'll fill the gaps in your armor. It might make it a bit thinner, but I'll balance the weight to keep it steady when you move."

"I'll craft you some steel boots, lined with soft leather for comfort—"

"In that case, I'll restore the Priestess's equipment to pristine condition—"

As if on cue, the dwarven craftsmen began enthusiastically pitching their skills.

"I can melt down my materials and forge gloves and bracers tailored perfectly to you!" Even Corvo, visibly agitated, joined the fray.

His voice was sharp and loud as he interjected. "I'll make something exceptional! And for me, there's no need for a magic stone! Let me disassemble your armor, and I'll put it back together exactly as it was—flawless, down to the smallest detail!"

Even for someone unfamiliar with this city’s customs, Ian could tell that was a hell of a deal.

Ian turned to Corvo. "I accept your offer—but you’ll only get my gear after I receive all the items you’ve promised me."

"Eh?"

"If I hand over my equipment first, it's obvious you'll get carried away tinkering with it and neglect the rest of the work."

It was also to ensure they wouldn't rush their work or skimp on quality.

Corvo scratched his nose in thought before nodding reluctantly. "Fine. It works for me. In fact this is perfect. Now I can show you what I can do."

Exchanging a resolute glance with the curly-bearded dwarf, Corvo turned to the others with a fierce grin.

"All these items will end up on him anyway, right? Once he's wearing them all together, we'll see whose craftsmanship truly stands out. Let's settle this once and for all—who among us is closest to being a true master craftsman."

The tension shifted instantly, and the other dwarves' expressions sharpened in response.

"Corvo, your pride's as high as the mountains, huh? Let's see if it holds when we put you to shame."

The commotion carried on for over ten minutes, drawing curious glances from passersby of other races. Eventually, the dwarves seated Ian and meticulously measured every inch of him. Their determination to avoid even the smallest error was clear in their intense gazes. All the while, they couldn't help but steal glances at the gear Ian was wearing.

"We'll start work immediately. Should we deliver the finished pieces to your home?" one of the dwarves asked.

"Tell Diana," Ian replied, gesturing toward her. "She'll come by and pick them up."

Diana nodded. Though her face wasn't visible, her body language didn't suggest any displeasure.

Ian watched the departing dwarves noisily descend the stairs after taking Lucia's gear, his Truesilver Steel Sword, and the leather pouch.

To fulfill the quest conditions, I'll probably need to hand over more, he thought, glancing at the boisterous retreating group.

Diana, who had sidled up to him quietly, asked. "Did you know this would happen when you suggested going to the dining hall?"

"I didn't expect it to go this far," Ian replied with a shrug.

"To think you'd outwit those stubborn little brats."

"I'd say it was a deal that left everyone satisfied." Ian countered with a faint smirk, nodding toward the retreating dwarves. "No one's complaining, are they?"

"True. Although it was a bit of a hassle to you, in the end, everyone came out satisfied." Nodding as she spoke, Lucia looked up at Ian with a smile. "Even I benefited from it."

"Well, don't celebrate too soon. You might end up taking up the hassle instead of me in the dining hall."

"That's fine by me. In fact, that doesn't bother me at all."

Sometimes, you do sound like a proper priestess.

Ian chuckled, then gestured forward. "Let's go get some breakfast."

"Breakfast? You've still got a long way to go to adjust, Ian Hope." Diana followed behind, chuckling.

"A long way to go, huh?" Ian's lips curled into a smirk as he stepped onto the staircase. Below, the group of dwarves had already descended to the lowest level. He glanced at them briefly.

The quest was marked complete four nights later.

***

Creak, creak.

Ian slowly turned the handle of the hourglass placed on the table. It was a small, typical hourglass made of glass and a metallic frame, smaller than his palm. However, its intricate clockwork mechanisms, including a large spring below the handle, extended along the frame. Turning the handle rotated the glass tube slowly, flipping it upside down.

This must be the innovative technology here.

He had purchased it from a dwarf craftsman for two magic stones. It didn't offer any stat bonuses, but it allowed him to track the time through its information window. It took exactly five hours for the sand to run out.

Six hours. No, four would've been better.

Though the time frame was inconvenient, it allowed Ian to make a rough estimate of a day's passage by turning the hourglass about five times.

Ian clicked his tongue softly and turned the handle fully. His gaze shifted to the red marker on the spring below the handle. Each turn of the hourglass moved the marker one notch. It took thirty turns to complete a full rotation, and today marked the fifteenth turn.

Three more days had passed since he bought the hourglass.

Time flies disgustingly fast when you're resting.

Still, it was shaping up to be a peaceful start to the day. Even Yog was asleep. Watching the dark sand begin its slow descent, Ian sat on the floor and pulled on the steel-plated boots resting by the wall.

As he watched the thin stream of dark sand fall, Ian sat on the floor and started putting on a pair of plate boots placed by the wall.

A dwarven craftsman crafted the boots three days ago. Despite being of only rare grade, they offered solid defense and were surprisingly lightweight, likely due to the lining made of monster leather. The only downside was their low durability.

They were already comfortable, but now they feel completely broken in.

Ian wore his newly gained equipment at all times, except when sleeping, to familiarize himself fully with the gear. After securing the boots, he slipped on the plate gauntlets that wrapped his wrists in chains, followed by attaching the vambraces over the thick leather sleeves of his jacket. All of it was newly gained equipment—gear ranging from rare to high-quality, matching the current chapter's challenges.

Thud.

The sound of the door opening broke the quiet. Diana appeared beyond the doorway, wearing a mask and holding a tray laden with food in both hands.

Ian, who had just picked up the White Phosphor Greaves he had propped against the wall beside his Truesilver Steel Sword in its scabbard, spoke. "I thought you'd be late."

"Thanks to Lucy for preparing things in advance."

She bumped the long lever on the wall with her elbow to shut the door and continued, "Your armor has been cleaned and repaired. They reassembled it back to its original state. They just need to finish crafting the scales and attach them. It should be ready soon."

"That's faster than I expected," Ian replied as he secured the greaves to his lower legs.

The greaves, which had regained their silvery-white sheen, shimmered faintly with newly attached steel scales that clinked like tarnished spots.

Though the craftsmanship didn't match the original scales' precision, the repairs were solid, with bent and cracked sections skillfully restored. A glance at the equipment's stats confirmed a significant recovery in durability.

"They've been at it nonstop for days. Those insane little dwarves." Shaking her head, Diana set the tray down on the table and added, "The Black Crown will take longer, though. They still can't figure out how it adjusts to fit perfectly on its own."

"I'd like to know the secret myself. If they ever figure it out, tell them to let me know." Ian fastened his greaves and took a seat beside the table. With the table's short height, sitting on the floor to eat posed no inconvenience.

The tray's contents caught his attention: porridge now thick enough to resemble stew, several thin slices of charred black ham, and a glass brimming with alcohol. A faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

"Looks like Lucy is telling them about the North again."

The meals had grown increasingly plentiful, if not tastier, over the past few days.

Diana, leaning casually against the wall near the table, nodded. "Her audience keeps growing. Well, who wouldn't gather to hear tales of the Dragon Slayer?"

That damn Dragon Slayer again.

Ian clicked his tongue lightly and started eating. Lucia had been visiting the dining hall regularly, recounting the state of the North to the locals. Naturally, her stories included the corrupted dragon and its legion that had risen in the Ahigorn Mountains, as well as the Platinum Dragon and the Dragon Slayer. The tales thrilled almost every villager, especially the two Northerners and the dwarves.

Some villagers had even started planning to sculpt a bust of the Dragon Slayer, despite never having seen him.

"Today, she's recounting the tale of the Dragon Slayer's ultimate moments in the North, just before his return," Diana remarked, flicking her fingers absently before glancing sideways at Ian. "Have you ever met him?"

Chewing on a piece of ham without much interest, Ian replied. "Who?"

"The Dragon Slayer. The Superhuman of the North."

Of course, Lucia hadn't revealed that Ian was the Dragon Slayer, the Northern Superhuman, and the Agent of the Platinum Dragon. Diana, judging by her demeanor, seemed far from suspecting the truth.

Ian's lips quivered into a smirk as he answered, "I thought you weren’t interested in that sort of thing."

"This kind of curiosity isn’t dangerous," Diana muttered, shaking her head slightly before letting out a languid sigh. "He must be a massive, wild-looking man. A lone beast prowling the Snowfields."

"You're completely wrong."

Diana tilted her head, puzzled by Ian's muttered response. Of course, Ian had no intention of continuing the conversation.

"So, when are the Owls expected back?" He asked nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink and adding, "And the Wolves, too. It seems like it's about time for either of them to show up."

"They haven't returned yet, but it shouldn't be long now. The time is drawing near." Diana's voice, which had carried a hint of awkwardness, suddenly grew quieter. "Though there's something else I'm more concerned about."

"What's that?" Ian asked.

"No one has returned to the city since we came back."

Ian paused, chewing thoughtfully as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Since he rarely left his quarters unless necessary, he had no idea who had or hadn’t returned. Even if he had, he wouldn't have noticed; his focus was solely on the location of the Wanderers and the Wolves' arrival.

"Normally, it wouldn't be strange, but I came back much earlier this time—thanks to you two."

Diana continued. "So by now, at least three or four other groups should've returned. It's almost certain that the Wanderers are moving around the rift, setting traps. They don't eat, they don't sleep, and they're fast. The Owls who left later than us— they're probably all gone."

Ian shrugged nonchalantly. "We expected this, didn't we?"

"If too many of the next Owls get taken out, we’ll be severely short on numbers. Until reinforcements arrive from the outside, hunting will be the only thing we can manage."

"I thought you didn't share the stronghold’s location with outsiders," Ian remarked, sounding mildly surprised.

"We don't," Diana confirmed with a nod. "Only a handful of Wolf leaders and Lions know the location."

"Lions?" Ian repeated.

"They're His Highness's elite vanguard, tasked with controlling chaos and madness."

Ian smirked faintly and muttered, "Sounds like something out of Animal Farm."

"Animal Farm? What's that?"

In response to Diana's question, Ian shook his head. At the same time, a memory of something she had once said to Lucia crossed his mind.

Who knows if they're really sane?

And that naturally implied that their leader, Hyked, might be in a similar state. Of course, what kind of secret trait he carried remained a mystery, but the possibility was certainly there.

Ian's eyes narrowed suddenly. He turned his gaze toward the door, instinctively brushing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Anyway, we'll know for sure soon," Diana continued, oblivious to his unease. "Carmiel, that insane monster—wherever he is now—I just hope I can witness his death with my own eyes—"

"I have something I want to ask," Ian interrupted, picking up his glass. "If an intruder enters this place, does the Mantra circuit respond immediately?"