I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 349

The two merchant leaders couldn't see it, but Ian wore a faint, wry smile on his lips.

I've never even put them through formal military training...

Yet, the barbarian warriors were gradually taking on the structure and discipline of a proper army. Perhaps it was because they were starting to develop a sense of belonging, or maybe it was the grueling pace they had endured together in such a short time.

Of course, they hadn't entirely lost their free-spirited nature.

"What's all this...?"

"I know that man. He's the merchant who used to buy furs in the snowfields."

Even as they stood at attention, they whispered in hushed voices, sneaking glances at the wagons Ian had brought. Since Ian hadn't explained the purpose of his trip to Travelga, the sight of the incoming supplies bewildered most of them.

Still, not everyone was clueless about what was happening.

"The Great Warrior is truly remarkable, always thinking one step ahead."

"I'm almost moved to tears. He doesn't even rest and still takes such care of us."

Centurions and seasoned warriors were quick to grasp the situation, offering their praise.

...This is going to stir things up again, Ian thought, tugging lightly on the reins. His horse slowed to a halt, stopping just before the warriors.

Ian surveyed the group, now looking much sharper than before. Their training and recent campaigns had transformed them into a presentable fighting force.

After a moment, he spoke. "These are the arms you'll be using. Take only what you need—no more, no less. In the end, they'll be for your comrades to wield as well."

The silence was not long

"Oooohhh—"

"The Great Warrior is truly magnificent!"

Thunderous cheers erupted, startling Fael and Joyce, who flinched and exchanged surprised glances. Beside them, Bor and Regin were silent but visibly moved, their reddened eyes betraying the emotions they tried to hide.

My ears are going to bleed...

Ian thought with mild irritation. But he couldn't exactly stop them from cheering. With a resigned sigh, he dismounted.

Volber hurried over to take the reins, his steps quick and eager. Ian handed them off, raising his voice above the noise.

"These men came with me through the night. They're exhausted, so help them with the other centurions and keep everything under control. Make sure this doesn't turn into chaos."

"Understood, Great Warrior. Leave it to me, and thank you for your hard work," Volber responded with a respectful nod, the longsword at his hip catching the light even beneath his simple fur coat. Its triangular counterweight was unmistakable—it was the Kindling's Longsword.

It seemed the soldiers had distributed the weapons evenly and were treating them with the utmost care. Volber's sharp gaze shifted to the caravan staff as they began uncovering the tarps on the supply wagons.

Then, turning toward the gathered soldiers, he bellowed in a commanding voice, "Ten of you who think you're up to it—step forward now!"

Where did he pick that up? Ian smirked faintly as he walked among the warriors.

"Thank you, Great Warrior."

"Your hard work is deeply appreciated. Please rest."

As Ian approached, the soldiers instinctively stepped aside, bowing their heads and clearing a path for him. The respect they showed was almost magical, allowing Ian to continue forward without breaking his stride.

It's like sorcery, Ian mused to himself.

Behind him, the bustling sounds of activity began to pick up. The soldiers who had rushed forward started helping the merchant staff unload the supplies from the wagons. Exclamations of surprise and admiration rippled through the front ranks.

"Oh, Karha... it's not just weapons in there."

"To think this is all ours. It's like the Great Warrior performed some kind of miracle."

"We owe him so much. Not only does he lead the way, but he tirelessly looks out for us."

"The only way to repay him is to fight to the death. No question about it."

Visit freёnovelkiss.com for the 𝑏est n𝘰vel reading experience.

Well, at least there won't be any squabbles over who gets what, Ian thought, continuing forward without looking back. As he finally passed the rear of the procession, he spotted a group of priests gathered in the distance.

Noticing Ian's gaze, the priests placed their left hands over their hearts and bowed deeply in unison. Miguel, however, simply smiled, offering his usual casual acknowledgment.

"You've worked hard, as always. So, you went to the Archduke to fetch equipment after all," Miguel remarked, a knowing look in his eyes.

"It wasn't fetching, it was borrowing," Ian replied with a shrug. "Whatever's left will be returned."

Miguel's smile widened. "And how much do you think will be left in good condition?"

"Probably not much. But something will make it back, probably," Ian said, his tone light.

Sharp as ever, Ian thought, smiling faintly at Miguel before adding, "Where's Lucy?"

"She's at the brazier, lighting the sacred fire. This time, she said she wanted to take it slow, offering prayers for each piece of kindling."

So, no blood this time, Ian noted with a small nod.

At that moment, Fael's voice rang out. "Attention, everyone! May I have your attention for a moment?"

Ian turned to see Fael and Joyce standing atop a wagon. Around them was a space where supplies from the military wagons had been laid out. Large crates with open lids were displayed prominently in the wagon bed where the two stood.

"Northlander warriors, step forward first," Fael announced. "Start by selecting a weapon. Those who don't receive a weapon will have priority when choosing armor. Take your time browsing, and if something catches your eye, let one of our staff know."

"Don't worry about the cost. The Great Warrior has already paid for everything," added Joyce.

The two merchant leaders, who had looked on the verge of collapse earlier, were now practically glowing with energy as they spoke.

"Great Warrior!"

"Praise the Great Warrior!"

The soldiers cheered with arms raised high, their voices booming. Ian, reassured that they wouldn't rush forward in chaos, turned back to Miguel.

"Take me to my quarters."

"You're not going to stay and oversee the distribution?" Miguel asked.

"No need. What I need right now is a meal. Two days with nothing but a few strips of jerky isn't exactly enough."

"What?!" Miguel's eyes widened in alarm. "Lu Entre, for heaven's sake! You and Lucy—always finding new ways to shock me! Don't tell me you haven't slept either!"

"..."

"Gods above, you're unbelievable! Come on. Eat something and rest. I don't care if you're superhuman—you'll burn yourself out at this rate!" Miguel spun on his heel, grumbling under his breath.

Miguel spun around sharply.

This guy, always nagging.

Ian let out a quiet chuckle through his nose but calmly followed him, his steps steady and unhurried.

***

Lucy returned shortly after Ian began eating his meal.

"Maybe because I've done it before, but it wasn't as difficult this time," she said with a smile. "Or maybe it's just because the brazier was smaller."

Lucy, seated beside Miguel, chatted away with an almost tireless energy. Her face showed little sign of fatigue, and Miguel watched her with a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

"You're quick to learn anything, aren't you? Looks like you're getting the hang of it."

Ian, who had been chewing, nodded in agreement.

"Still, be careful. According to the Vice Priest, you need to resist the temptation to take the easier path."

"... You and the Vice Priest seem to get along surprisingly well. You always have."

"He speaks sense," Ian replied plainly.

As Lucy nodded while chewing on her food, a knock came at the door.

"Agent of the Saint, are you still eating?" Fael's voice called from behind the door.

It had been just over an hour since Ian had started his meal, during which he had devoured several plates of wild boar and a hearty stew that was little more than a mishmash of ingredients boiled together. The flavor was lackluster, but his hunger had made it satisfying enough.

"Come in," Ian called.

The door opened, and Fael stepped inside, taking a measured stride forward.

"Still at the table, I see."

"Almost done," Ian replied, swallowing his mouthful before turning to face him. "Is everything finished on your end?"

"Yes, nearly everything," Fael said with a faint smile. Though his exhaustion was clear, there was a palpable sense of pride in his demeanor.

"We prioritized distributing the supplies as evenly as possible. Most of it has already been handed out. The centurions volunteered to oversee the rest, and thanks to the soldiers' cooperation, the process went smoothly."

"Good work," Ian said with a nod. "I appreciate your efforts."

"Thank you. Now, as for the matter we discussed earlier..."

Fael's smile turned slightly mischievous as he stepped further into the room. Behind him, Bor and Regin entered, each carrying one end of a large metal chest. Ian's lips curled upward in recognition.

"My turn now, is it?"

"If you're tired, we could postpone it."

"No need. I'd like to strike while the iron is hot."

He gestured toward the bed, and the two guards carefully set the chest down on it. Its surface, engraved with what looked like spell circuits, gleamed under the light.

Rinsing his mouth with water, Ian leaned over and picked up a sealed chest he had placed beside the dining table earlier.

"Besides, I've got something to give in return."

Carrying the sealed chest, Ian placed it in the middle of the room and opened the lid.

"Lu Entre, for heaven's sake..." Miguel's jaw dropped as he stared at the box's contents.

A warm golden glow spilled out, illuminating the room. Miguel's eyes widened in disbelief, his expression turning dazed. Even Lucy, usually composed, blinked in astonishment at the sight before her. The box was filled to the brim with gold coins.

"I knew you were wealthy, but... I didn't think this wealthy. How many coins are in there?" Miguel asked, his voice faltering as his gaze remained fixed on the box.

Ian answered nonchalantly, "I've used some of it already, but there should still be close to a thousand in there."

"A thousand Imperial gold coins..."

He's about to drool.

But then, to ordinary people, the sheer amount of gold Ian had presented was enough to last a lifetime.

Ian turned his gaze to Fael. "If we factor in the payment for Windmill Trading Company's goods, this might still fall short."

"It's not an issue," Fael replied with a reassuring smile that seemed more generous than businesslike. "The rest will be billed to Her Highness, the Princess. But more importantly..."

His voice lowered, laced with concern. "Are you sure you're comfortable giving all this away? It seems like your entire fortune."

Honestly? Yeah, no kidding. Never thought I'd end up blowing it all in one go like this. Fuck.

Ian thought, but outwardly, he simply nodded. "It's not everything. I kept a little aside."

He had stashed a few coins in the magic box Seras had given him. Nodding, Fael closed the lid of the sealed chest. He didn't bother counting the coins—it seemed irrelevant at the moment. Without hesitation, he turned and approached the bed.

Turning smoothly, Fael moved to the bed where they had placed the metal chest.

"Now then, please take a look," he said, unlocking the latch and lifting the lid.

As Ian stepped closer, a faint smile tugged at his lips. "So this is a rare find..."

Inside was a suit of lamellar armor, crafted from countless small, pristine white metal plates that overlapped like fish scales. Each plate was a meticulously shaped pentagon. Ian had assumed the inner lining would be chain mail, but it was reinforced with a thin plate of metal instead. The armor's design was a masterpiece—lightweight yet sturdy, flexible yet form-fitting.

What lay before him was a suit of lamellar armor, its surface gleaming with countless small, pristine white metal plates that overlapped like fish scales. Each plate was a perfectly shaped pentagon, crafted with exquisite precision.

At first glance, Ian had assumed the lining would be made of chain mail, but to his surprise, it was reinforced with thin plates of metal instead. The armor was a marvel of craftsmanship—delicate, yet remarkably sturdy. The overlapping scales maintained their form while allowing for ease of movement, giving the impression of exceptional flexibility.

How on earth did they attach the scales so perfectly?

Ian wondered, his fingers brushing over the surface. As he examined it, Ian's mind wandered to a similar piece he had seen before. Recognizing the style, he finally spoke.

"Looks like fairy gear."

"You recognized it immediately. It's said to be an artifact once used by an ancient high fairy. They say it's over a century old, but doesn't it look like it was made just yesterday?"

As Ian closely examined the lamellar armor in his hands, Fael continued, his voice carrying a note of pride. "As you mentioned, it's lightweight, yet incredibly sturdy. On top of that, it's imbued with ancient spells."

"Yes, it really is..." Ian murmured, nodding slowly.

Ian nodded thoughtfully as he continued to inspect the armor.

He had already pulled up the information window: White Phosphor Armor of the Noble Fairy. It was a relic grade item, its defensive capabilities, and durability far exceeded what its appearance suggested. Despite this, the armor's usage requirements were surprisingly low, likely due to its lightweight design.

A set item, huh...

The armor was one of five pieces in a rare set. Each additional piece equipped amplified its effects, granting rare bonuses like reduced chances of critical hits and even the ability to damage or destroy weapons upon impact. It also featured an embedded spell, Blessing of White Phosphor, which automatically activated a protective barrier when struck. If all five pieces were worn, the spell evolved into Guard of White Phosphor, a powerful defensive skill.

"They say it's made with a blend of true silver. As you can see, it's lightweight yet exceptionally sturdy. Even if someone slashes at it, the scales won't break under direct strikes," Fael explained smoothly, clearly attuned to Ian's satisfaction.

"Instead, blades will skid off the surface. And if struck from the reverse angle, the edge will catch on the scales. In fact, it's more likely to chip the weapon than damage the armor."

"Impressive."

"If you wear it with the greaves, not even a blade—or even a monster—would be able to leave so much as a scratch on you, Agent of the Saint."

"Seems you couldn't secure the other pieces."

Fael's smile faltered slightly at his comment. "Yes, I noticed from the grooves on the shoulders and sleeves that this wasn't the complete set, but even when I asked the seller, I couldn't get any answers."

After a brief hesitation, Fael glanced subtly toward Lucia and Miguel before lowering his voice.

"The truth is... this is practically a stolen goods."

Miguel, catching the shift in tone, chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. "No need to whisper like that. We're not exactly the type to be sticklers for the rules."

Lucia mirrored his smile, her lips barely curling in a subtle gesture reminiscent of Ian's mercenary grin.

Why do they all act the same?

Ian thought, smirking to himself as he spoke up. "You found this on the black market?"

"There are many noble families in the Empire that were once famous but are now on the brink of collapse," Fael began in a hushed tone, wearing the look of someone sharing a business secret.

"Most of these families made their name during the civil wars or the warring eras. Their secret vaults are often filled with spoils of war or plundered treasures. Naturally, they can't sell such items openly... but as they say, where there's a will, there's a way."

So, they're quietly selling off their family heirlooms bit by bit whenever they run short on funds...

Ian mused, smirking again as he looked down at the White Phosphor Armor.

"Impressive networking. Whatever's missing, I'll just supplement with my existing gear, so don't worry about it."

Fael let out a relieved sigh. "It's a relief to hear you're satisfied. I was confident, of course, but there's always a lingering worry that it might not live up to expectations."

"It was a demanding request, but this exceeds my expectations. You've done well."

A full set would've been ideal, of course. Even so, just these two pieces were more than enough to surpass Ian's standards. With relic grade gear, if he avoided damaging them, there was always the possibility of finding the remaining parts in the future.

If I can hold on to it until I meet Thesa again...

Ian chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the impractical thought.

What am I doing, thinking so far ahead when I haven't even solved the immediate issues?

Dismissing the idea, he moved to place the armor back into the box.

"We'll include the storage case as well," Fael said suddenly, exchanging a glance with Bor.

"It's light for its size and remarkably durable," he explained. "It's also enchanted to resist rust and damage. The engraved magic circuits on the surface ensure its longevity."

There was no reason to refuse such a useful addition. Ian nodded, gesturing with his chin. "In that case, take the chest with the gold coins."

Though he'd used the old sealed chest for years, Ian wasn't particularly attached to it. It had, after all, been a prison he once used to hold Thesaya. With a sturdier and lighter replacement in hand, there was no reason to hold on to it.

Fael bowed deeply. "Understood."

"You've worked hard and must be exhausted. Get some rest. Stay here for a few days and recover your strength before you head back. The villagers will take good care of you."

"We are grateful for your kindness, Agent of the Saint," Fael replied, but after a brief pause, he licked his dry lips nervously before continuing, "However... when do you plan to march out?"

Ian glanced at Miguel and Lucia, briefly meeting their gazes before casually closing the box in front of him. He answered simply, his voice steady and calm.

"Tomorrow."