I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 416

The leader of the bandits, huh? So I just need to take out the boss.

Muttering to himself, Ian closed the quest window and fixed his gaze beyond the murky darkness.

Now that I'm looking at it again, this really is the perfect environment for bandits to operate in.

The misty, hilly landscape was perfect for ambushes and surprise attacks. The distant battle's chaos offered perfect cover.

If not for Yog and the quest window, even Ian might not have noticed the ambush until they were on him.

No. I probably would've sensed them a little earlier than that.

Feeling the low resonance of the bead of chaos essence, Ian snapped the reins in his left hand.

The black horse, which had been scraping the ground with its front hooves, burst forward in an instant. Its acceleration was beyond comparison to any ordinary horse, carrying a momentum akin to riding a charging bison. It even surged ahead as if it had already sensed the approaching enemies.

Not bad. Not bad at all. At least in here.

Ian rose to his feet in the stirrups, keeping his upper body slightly lowered to minimize wind resistance. Amid the rippling mane, his eyes, still locked on the darkness ahead, gleamed with swirling blue magic. And at their center, a small dot of violet shimmered.

Shhh.

Cold energy spread from his left hand, still gripping the reins. Even as he clenched his fist to suppress his magic, Ian never once looked away from the approaching figures.

Rumble—

The figures emerged from the mist, cutting through the dust and fog. As expected, they were the centaur bandits. Charging in disorder, lacking any real formation, their numbers were surprisingly low—barely ten at most.

Plus three more.

Ian's eyes swept over the flanks, quickly picking them out. The ones who had fled earlier, blowing their war horns and leading monsters toward the battlefield, had now regrouped with their main force.

Even so, the total was smaller than he had expected. Then again, considering their nature, perhaps survival in large numbers wasn't exactly possible.

—They look sturdy. Think that sword of yours will do the job, friend?

Yog's whisper slithered into his mind. No doubt, it had noted their equipment. As he saw earlier, the bandits wore mismatched, scavenged gear—looted armor with no consistency. The only common pieces were the horn bows in their left hands and the shields strapped to their right arms.

Even those are different in shape.

Despite the lack of uniformity, they were well-armored. Even the ones wearing leather weren't easy targets—it was likely made from the hide of corrupted beasts, just as tough as chain mail.

—That dragon-forged blade of yours would work better.

Not this time.

Ian replied inwardly, tightening his grip on the black sword in his right hand. He needed to conserve the Truesilver Steel Sword. He had already worn down its durability in the battle against the Wanderers.

Under normal circumstances, that blade should have lasted him years without issue. Its durability suffered considerably from excessive engagements. Since any reckless repairs could affect the Mantra circuits, hammering it back into shape wasn't an option. If he wanted to make it back from here on his own terms, he had to be more selective—only using it when absolutely necessary.

Boom, boom.

By now, the black horse was galloping at full speed. The wind pressure was so intense that his eyes stung slightly, yet Ian didn't so much as blink.

"Hahaha!"

"This bastard's got some nerve!"

"Alright! That liver of his is mine!"

The bandits' jeering voices cut through the wind. Almost at the same moment, Ian's Intuition sent out a sharp warning. He immediately lowered his posture, pressing against the horse's neck.

Swish!

Several dark streaks sliced through the air near him—arrows fired by the bandits. However, the black horse didn't even flinch. If anything, it ran even faster. And Ian was no different. Even with the rising tension, the corners of his lips curled into a faint arc. He wasn't even aware that he was smiling.

Extending his left hand forward, still gripping the reins, he whispered, "Don’t be afraid."

At that instant, the magic he had been suppressing erupted from his grasp. A pulse of blue light rippled outward, sweeping across the battlefield.

Zip, zap—

Massive walls of ice erupted between Ian and the oncoming bandits, rising in a sweeping arc. It was the Glacier Wall, amplified by the power of chaos.

"Magic?!"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me—"

The bandits let out panicked cries.

The ice barrier had risen in a semicircle just a few dozen meters ahead of them, but at their current full sprint, they would reach it in mere seconds. Some instinctively sped up, while others scrambled to come to a halt. Either way, it was enough to throw them into disarray.

Swoosh!

Then, the black horse carrying Ian vaulted over the ice barrier like an obstacle, soaring through the air. By now, a turbulent wind had swirled around him, as if pushing away the surrounding air. Even as the barrier continued to freeze and rise, it barely grazed past the horse's bent legs as it leaped.

The bandits' eyes widened, their heads tilting back as they followed the trajectory of the jump.

The violet haze from the black sword curved out a long, lingering afterimage in the air. Secured firmly in the saddle, Ian's gaze swept over their faces briefly.

They really are revolting to look at.

Their eyes met for only the briefest moment.

Crash!

The bandits who had just passed him crashed into the surface of the barrier, skidding and tumbling wildly. Some attempted to jump, but all they did was slam into a slightly higher section of the wall. Of course, none of them suffered serious injuries or lost their lives.

"You son of a bitch!"

"A relic? He's got some kind of relic, doesn't he?"

"Perfect! We'll rip out your guts while you're still alive, you damned Lion bastard!"

The tangled-up bandits howled in rage, spouting all sorts of misunderstandings, but Ian, having already passed them, didn't even bother to glance back.

Swoosh.

Instead of looking back, Ian snapped the reins again, urging his black horse to an even greater speed. His gaze remained locked ahead.

Anyway, leaders are always so damn relaxed.

The source of the chaotic resonance had finally revealed itself—the head of the cannibalistic bandits. Unlike the others, the centaur moved at a slower, more deliberate pace. It was larger than its kin, with jagged horns sprouting from its head. But what truly caught Ian's attention was the tarnished, full-plate armor encasing its body.

What, was it some kind of bandit knight?

The creature held a massive kite shield in one hand, its lower body protected by overlapping plate barding. Instead of a bow, its left hand gripped a long lance, resting casually against its shoulder.

The moment their eyes met, the creature's lips stretched wide, curling all the way to its ears in amusement, revealing jagged, saw-like fangs.

Ian saw more than he wanted to—scraps of rotting flesh wedged between its fangs. Then, in an instant, the bandit leader surged forward, its lance shifting from its shoulder to point straight ahead. A violet haze radiated from its entire body.

What, you want to play jousting?

Ian smirked in return, pressing his left hand against his horse's neck. A pulse of chaotic energy sank into the black horse.

With a resounding cry, the black horse sped up once more. The bandit knight loomed ever closer, its sheer bulk even more intimidating up close. A direct collision would turn most humans into nothing more than shattered meat.

Its eyes widened in surprise—it hadn't expected Ian to close the distance so quickly. Still, its instincts reacted. The knight thrust its lance downward at an angle, aiming to skewer Ian from above. Of course, Ian swung his black sword a fraction of a second faster.

Swoosh!

Ian twisted his torso back, narrowly dodging the incoming strike. The arc of the black sword he swung to the side bypassed the knight's shield and slashed toward the enemy's lower body.

Clang—

The exchange happened in less than the blink of an eye. Having passed the enemy, Ian straightened his upper body while thrusting the black sword forward. A faint grimace tugged at the corner of his lips.

Yeah, it's definitely tough.

Even with Fangs of Heaven Defier active, his wrist stung from the sheer impact. He hadn't even broken the shield. While the plate armor seemed to have been torn apart, it was unlikely that the body beneath it had sustained deep wounds. The continued sound of hooves behind him was proof of that.

As he pulled on the reins to slow down, Ian turned to look back. The bandit knight had also turned, twisting its upper body to face him.

The black horse made a wide turn, and the knight adjusted its direction in response, mirroring Ian's movement.

Yog's whisper followed.

—Are you sure you're okay, friend? You're bleeding.

Ian muttered, his smile unfaltering, "Just a scratch."

He had dodged the knight's thrust, but the sheer force of the wind pressure alone left a gash along his cheek and ear. It was likely due to the magic imbued in the weapon.

Yog let out a chuckle.

—Yeah, it looks like a draw to me.

After all, the bandit knight's lower body, now visible as it adjusted its direction, bore a long, horizontal slash. Black fluid streamed down from its exposed torso, seeping through the torn gaps in its armor. Clear traces of the Fangs of Heaven Defier marked its raised shield.

My hit was bigger. Calling this a draw is nonsense.

Even as such a childish thought crossed Ian's mind, his gaze looked toward the scene unfolding behind the knight. Beyond the melting ice wall, bandits were charging forward once again.

"Kill him—"

"He won't be a Lion when we're done! We'll turn him into a porcupine, bastard!"

Their shouts rang out as arrows flew toward Ian. Yet Ian made no move to dodge. He simply continued his turn, pushing the black sword into his pocket dimension since his Intuition had given him no warning. Excited as they were, their aim was pathetic.

"Enough—!" Instead, the bandit leader suddenly shouted with a scowl. The purple energy faintly spreading across its body flared violently for a moment.

The bandits immediately fell silent. Their pace slowed, and those who had already drawn their arrows hesitated before returning them to their quivers.

A smirk tugged at Ian's lips.

It’s really serious about playing knight, huh?

Perhaps it had been a knight at some point. Regardless, it worked as a favor to Ian.

His eyes flickered with gray magic as he shrugged. At the same time, his black horse snorted as it paused, likely because the rider’s weight had shifted.

Instead of the black sword, Ian now held a thick, heavy battle hammer, freshly drawn from his pocket dimension.

A greatsword would've been better, but...

With that thought, Ian gripped the hammer's lower handle with his left hand and raised the weapon diagonally. The knight, watching him, bared its teeth in a grin. Then, with a sudden flick, it threw away the shield in its right hand. Gripping its lance with both hands, it charged forward.

Before Ian even gave a command, his black horse let out a growl and surged forward on its own.

Thud, thud, thud!

The knight galloped toward Ian's left side. It was obvious it intended to expose its uninjured side after sustaining damage on its right.

Ian rose from the saddle, pressing his foot against the stirrup. Twisting his waist slightly to the right, he brought his left arm—gripping the lower end of the handle—to a halt just in front of his chin. A stance that would allow him to swing with full force at any moment.

It’s not even worried.

Watching the knight charge forward, Ian's smirk deepened. The knight's confidence did not surprise him. After all, a lance's direct thrust was faster and easier to land than a battle hammer's swing. That is—if this were a duel between ordinary knights.

Swoosh!

Just as the distance between them narrowed, a golden glow spread across the back of Ian's left hand. A golden shield flared to life, covering Ian's left side at an angle. The bandit knight's eyes widened for a fraction of a second.

Yet, it still reflexively thrust its lance toward the opening—it had no choice. The distance between them had already shrunk too much for hesitation.

Fwoosh!

At nearly the same moment, a whirlwind surged around Ian's black horse. It didn't push the knight back, but it was enough to slow its charge and alter the trajectory of its lance.

Clang! Crash—

The lance scraped against the surface of the Platinum Barrier. Ian, his Intuition and Concentration heightened to their peak, twisted his waist the other way and thrust his right arm forward.

Swoosh!

The battle hammer tore through the air as it swung outward. Just as the lance tip finished scraping against the barrier, the hammer completed its long arc and crashed into the knight's side.

Crunch!

Ian saw it clearly—the knight's left arm, crushed along with its shoulder, caving under the sheer impact. Gritting his teeth, Ian swung his waist and both arms all the way through.

Boom—

Ian's body twisted to its limit. The knight slammed sideways as if thrown, flipped over as it rebounded off the ground. Ian's black horse staggered from the impact, momentarily losing balance.

Letting go of the hammer's shaft with his right hand, Ian allowed his body to follow the centrifugal force, pressing his lower half down hard.

Crack.

The dangling hammer scraped across the ground. As the black horse regained its balance, it picked up speed again, adjusting its posture in sync. Had it been an ordinary horse, its legs would have broken, or its body would have twisted. Yet, it merely skidded on its hind legs, plowing through the ground without losing its footing.

As soon as their speed slowed, the beast even kicked at the air, as if preparing to charge again. Only then did Ian lift the battle hammer from the ground once more.

Thud, thud, thud.

The bandit knight tumbled across the dirt, skidding to a halt. A long trench marked the path where it had been dragged. Two of its four legs were broken, uselessly dangling. Its left arm, completely shattered at the shoulder, twitched limply.

Yet before it could even assess its injuries, its head snapped up. The sound of galloping hooves was drawing near once more.

Tap, tap—

However, Ian was no longer on horseback. With the battle hammer raised high, he had kicked off the saddle and leaped toward the knight. A gathering wind surged beneath him, propelling his entire body forward. The knight's violet eyes widened.

With a deep, resonant sound, the battle hammer began its descent. The swirling wind that had enveloped Ian followed the length of the hammer's shaft, surging upward.

The Platinum Barrier that had once shimmered around his left arm had vanished without a trace. The bandit knight, barely able to move its broken body, lifted its right hand, gripping its lance to block the strike.

It spat out a final, enraged cry. "A sacred duel, and you resort to such dishonorable—"

Crunch!

Before it could finish, the hammer came crashing down, pounding its head. It didn't stop at its skull—it crushed everything down to its collarbone. The impact flattened the lance it had raised.

Thud.

Ian landed, arms pressing the hammer down to its fullest extent. Its legs trembled briefly before firmly planting themselves on the ground. A faint crease formed between its brows, the aftershock of impact traveling up its arms and legs.

The black horse passed by a beat later.

"A cannibalistic corrupted one talking about sacred duels? What a joke." Ian muttered under his breath.

He adjusted his stance and lifted the hammer again, like a woodcutter raising an ax. Beneath it, the knight's ruined head came into view. The impact obliterated its horns and drove a crushed lance deep into its face.

His right arm gave one last, feeble twitch.

Crunch, boom!

The battle hammer fell again, slamming down the mushed head one last time with overwhelming force.