I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain-Chapter 201

The strange sensation of the sword’s hilt taking root in his grip made Ian uneasy. Greedily, the black sword absorbed his chaos energy. The shimmering purple haze spreading from the cross-guard to the blade’s tip flickered, resembling fangs true to its name. The reason it glowed purple instead of black, as it did when used by the dark knight, was because its power source was chaos energy rather than dragon magic.

Fssssst—

The moss and mushrooms filling the hall trembled shortly after. A dense, dark green mist rose. Even at a glance, it was a color that one instinctively knew not to inhale.

Reminds me of the game, fuck.

Ian held his breath and frowned. It reminded him of the toxic mist that rose from various parts of the western lands in the game. Those were each called the Mist of Decay, the Haze of Corrosion, the Clouds of Contagion—each had different names and effects.

Chiiii—

This one appeared to be the Mist of Decay. His steel-clad feet felt as if they were burning away. Poison, germs, spores—whatever the cause, it was dissolving his body from the toes up. Ian quickly stopped and looked around. The altar was still a considerable distance away.

Just as Luce had described, the chapel had expanded to the size of a small stadium, comparable to the throne room of the Vampire Empress. By the time he reached that black mass, his entire body would have melted away.

Though given enough time, he could recover from the injuries, he paused to find a safer path to avoid blinding himself. If he couldn’t end the entity in one blow, he would have to fight the remaining battle blind. Closing his eyes to avoid the mist wouldn’t change the outcome either. Fighting without sight wasn’t impossible, but whether he could do it as adeptly as Charlotte was uncertain, especially against an unknown boss.

Why are all boss fight intros like this?

Clicking his tongue, Ian turned back and retreated. There were patches along the edges where the moss and mushrooms didn’t grow, offering temporary safety.

Creak, crack—

The sound of stone cracking spread just as Ian reached the empty edge of the chapel. Sliding to a stop, he deactivated the Fangs of Heaven Defier and turned his gaze toward the source of the sound.

As expected. Those things weren’t just part of the background.

The priests’ unnaturally bulging backs swelled further. The sound of something breaking persisted, visible through the decaying priestly robes dissolving in the mist.

They’re molting.

The desperate ritual had borne some fruit. Whether this was the reward they desired, Ian couldn’t say.

Regardless, you’ll burn as well.

Ian’s eyes glinted with reddish magic as he stared at the dense green mist and the molting priests. A purple gleam flickered in his irises.

Unless he was in a situation where he couldn’t move at all, there was no reason to stand idly by and wait for this event cut scene to end. Moreover, the Mist of Decay didn’t seem like it would subside anytime soon. Even if it did, it could easily rise again to hinder him.

In the game, he might have found a safe zone or used a defensive skill to counter it, but in reality, he had a much simpler method at his disposal.

Chaos-infused magic surged into the black sword, intensifying its power. The sword whined irritably, but Ian paid no attention to it. He thrust the blade forward, its tip glowing a deep red.

Kwooooosh—

A burst of yellow flame erupted, spreading violently. The dense green mist was consumed by the Flame Tide, along with the moss and mushrooms beneath. Ian spread the flames wide, the writhing moss and mushrooms sizzling loudly as they burned.

Crack, creak—

The priests’ molting finished just before the Flame Tide engulfed them. Creatures covered in sticky mucus emerged, flapping multiple sets of wings like those of dragonflies. The discarded shells lay limply and soon disintegrated in the fiery wave.

"...." Still holding his sword forward, Ian’s crimson eyes scrutinized the emerging creatures. They resembled giant insects. With three pairs of elongated dragonfly wings, the heads, covered in multiple compound eyes, resembled oversized cockroaches with sharp mandibles.

Their bodies, slick with mucus, appeared armored with chitinous plating. Eight pairs of long legs extended from their chests to their abdomens, each ending in claw-like pincers that dripped with venom. At the front, their thick, elongated bodies ended in large, gaping holes lined with fang-like spikes.

What a disgusting sight.

The creatures, seemingly waiting for the mucus covering them to dry, turned their bodies toward Ian simultaneously.

Crack, creak—

The spiked holes opened, revealing faces hidden within. They looked like faces molded from clay. The creatures opened their eyes, completely black with no whites.

"What a pity...."

A voice, resonating like a swarm of buzzing insects and infused with magic, continued, "How can a seeker of truth not accept such an obvious truth?"

"... Bishop Stephan?" Ian spat out, his expression indifferent.

The creature, which had been moving its lips, smiled broadly, revealing that it had no teeth below its lips.

"There was a time when I was called that... but no longer. I have shed the shackles of mortality and become part of the grand and eternal cycle... Now, I, or rather, we, are the evangelists of decay and disease, spreading the truth of the cycle, the true offspring of the Great Father—" The creature’s voice grew increasingly exalted.

The corrupted ones who had become the evangelists of the cycle clattered their pincers together, laughing unpleasantly. They seemed to derive immense pleasure from their transformation into void beings.

Of course, Ian’s gaze remained indifferent as he stared at them. He still couldn’t understand these corrupted beings.

No matter how tempting immortality, power, or forbidden knowledge might be, what was the point if it meant becoming such grotesque forms?

They might consider themselves beings that had transcended humanity, but to Ian, they were just one of many void monsters, nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps most of them were already convinced that the world would soon end. Maybe they were each preparing for what came next in their own way.

"Yes... certainly not an ordinary father." With a slight smirk, Ian finally spoke.

Running his left hand through his hair, he slowly clenched his fist and added, "Putting his children’s faces on their rears, now that’s something."

"Once the cycle begins, no one can stop it.... What did you just say?" Stephan, who had been speaking in a self-absorbed manner, suddenly asked, perplexed.

"I have a question." Ian nonchalantly added, gesturing with his chin toward Stephan. "Where do you guys eat and where do you poop from?"

"What kind of crude—...?!" Stephan started to retort but then halted abruptly. He quickly turned his head, flapping his wings furiously.

Swoosh—

The Flame Tide that had been moving away from the chapel was now returning, roaring more violently than before. The flames converged toward Ian like merging streams, growing fiercer and faster.

Swoosh—

"Aargh—" The rushing flames engulfed several evangelists at the rear. Those who hadn’t yet shed all their mucus screamed grotesquely as they fell. The few just behind them urgently flew upward. Stephan, who had also risen higher, frowned and turned back around, glaring at Ian.

"You scoundrel, truly fitting for a mage—" But his words were cut off again. Ian, now surrounded by a whirlwind, had already charged right up to him.

"You know me well." With those words, Ian activated the Fangs of Heaven Defier once more and swung his black sword down. The flickering purple haze bit into Stephan’s upper head.

Crack—

As Stephan’s head and chest split open, Ian planted his foot on Stephan’s body, pushing against him with the momentum of his charge. Even as Stephan was driven back, Ian continued to thrust his sword down between Stephan’s legs.

Crunch!

The purple blade sliced through Stephan’s lower face, spilling dark green ichor as his body split in half. Ian kicked the divided corpse away forcefully.

"Argh!" Screaming as he was torn apart, Stephan was engulfed by the surging flames and burned away. Ian, having launched himself off Stephan, didn’t even spare a glance. He was already hurtling toward another evangelist.

"Screech—" The next creature opened its lower face, spewing a jet of black bile.

So, you really do poop out of your face.

Muttering to himself, Ian kicked off into the air. The swirling whirlwind twisted his trajectory into a spiral as he surged past the spewed bile. The creature’s eight legs shot out spasmodically, but Ian was faster, slipping through them and diving into its body as if embracing it.

Crunch!

The purple blade Ian held in a reverse grip stabbed into the creature’s abdomen. Planting both feet on its body, Ian straightened his grip on the hilt and kicked forcefully.

Crunch—

The blade sliced through the creature’s side, and the trailing haze tore apart two of its wings.

"Screech—" Screaming in pain, the creature spiraled downward, unable to maintain a balance with its mismatched wings.

Ian was already arcing back toward where he had come from. His gaze swept over the remaining evangelists, who now numbered only five. Their faces, once filled with ease and ecstasy, were now twisted with confusion and shock. Some even closed their orifices entirely, hiding their faces.

A faint smile tugged at Ian’s lips.

I know from experience. Adapting to a new body and power doesn’t happen instantly.

Though they had been transformed into void beings, their essence hadn’t changed. They were priests who had never fought properly. No matter how immense the power, it had to be wielded skillfully to be meaningful, as Ian had learned through countless trials and errors.

"...." Ian’s eyes, tinged with purple amidst the gray, gazed at the raging inferno rushing toward him. Instead of trying to evade, he crouched in mid-air, steadying his stance.

Roar—

Just as the reversing Flame Tide was about to collide with Ian, the Whirling Barrier, amplified by chaos energy, exploded outwards, wrapping around and absorbing the fire. The evangelists faltered, their speed momentarily reduced. The flame-laden whirlwind shot up to the ceiling before dispersing in all directions.

Woosh.

"Aaargh!"

The evangelists were swept away by the fiery vortex. Meanwhile, Ian, who had been propelled to the ceiling, twisted his body and landed feet-first on the ceiling.

Crack, crack, crack—

His entire body was pressed against the ceiling by the pressure, causing cracks to spread out from where his feet were planted.

This is practically no different from the Flame Storm.

Even as he thought of one of the high-level spells he hadn’t mastered yet, Ian quickly redirected his gaze. He wasn’t looking at the evangelists entangled in the flames as they fell. His focus was on the altar, the massive black mass atop it. In a fleeting moment, he perceived all the changes occurring there.

After several unwanted stat allocations, his cognitive abilities and reflexes had reached nearly superhuman levels. In a situation like this, with his Concentration and Intuition traits fully activated, his perception was even sharper. He noted the sticky, burning surface, the vivid purple glow flickering beyond it, the seething shadows between, and the crack spreading rapidly from the top.

The moment Ian noticed the cracks spreading rapidly from the top, he forcefully pushed off with his bent legs. His body, previously pressed down by the pressure, shot out like a cannonball as he shook off the restraint.

Swish!

As Ian pushed through the remnants of the flame whirlwind, he raised the black sword above his head. The trajectory created by the purple haze fiercely blazed and descended.