I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 736

Without realizing it, Ian’s eyes narrowed as the bishop stood motionless.

“What?”

“Huh...”

A beat later, sharp intakes of breath and sighs rippled through the priests lined up behind them.

Seras stood stiff as a statue, and Thesaya pressed her lips inward, blinking rapidly. No one had expected such a sudden turn of events.

However, that was not the only reason Ian’s expression twisted.

No way that bastard is...

A grim premonition rose within him that this might only be the beginning.

Utrid’s gaze, when he turned from the platform, had settled on Ian.

“Though he was judged by Karha and paid for his sins, the traces of the crime my father committed have not vanished from the North,” said Utrid.

His gaze swept over the soldiers who had formed a path around him and the crowd beyond them.

“The North has been divided and weakened. Countless northerners have ascended to the Heavens, never to return. And neither my family nor I even knew that a great evil, an archdemon, had invaded our lands.”

His voice spread across the silent square. Now that he had spoken, he seemed to have shed his tension; he did not even stumble over his words.

Even with that ominous feeling weighing on him, Ian did not interrupt or try to stop him, because it would have been meaningless.

Utrid had already detonated the bomb. At best, he might delay him for a moment, but it would be impossible to prevent him from making his declaration altogether.

“Even if we had known, nothing would have changed. Neither my father nor anyone in our house, myself included, would have thought to stake our lives alongside the guardians of the North and fight to defend it.”

Even amid all this, Utrid’s voice continued. The coronation was quietly turning into a speech, yet the crowd seemed too absorbed to notice.

Perhaps it was because the archduke’s heir was openly acknowledging the failures of himself and his family.

“Therefore, neither I nor my house is worthy to rule the North any longer. That is why I refuse to walk this path. And I believe, without doubt, that this too is a choice made for the North.”

Utrid’s head turned back toward the platform.

Then, looking at Ian with his brows drawn tight, he added, “Because there is another who is truly needed to rule the North.”

It was more than enough to turn Ian’s premonition into certainty and end all doubt. As gazes poured toward him, his brow twisted completely.

That bastard really....

He had prepared for everything, yet the very situation he had feared had come to pass at last. And by someone he had not expected in the slightest.

To be honest, he had never once paid any attention to Utrid until now.

“The strength to quell the North’s turmoil and shield it from the coming war. The legitimacy to reunite a divided land. And above all—”

Utrid’s voice rose, growing heated with conviction.

“The true ruler of the North, whom every Northerner, including all of you gathered here, has long awaited!”

After shouting this, Utrid drew in a breath and swept his gaze across the crowd once more. It almost looked as though he could feel the fervor in his own voice spreading outward.

“Then I ask you!” Raising his clenched fist from beneath the cloak, he turned and shouted to those around him. “At this very moment, who is the true ruler of the North that rises in your hearts?”

“I—Ian Hope!”

Someone answered at once. It was a voice that seemed to have burst out reflexively, without a second thought. And that was the beginning.

“Ian Hope!”

“The Golden Demigod! Ian Hope!”

“Our Great Warrior!”

The cries spread through the square like wildfire. Utrid stood with his fist raised, staring back at the platform, and even the ember priests who had halted lifted their torches high above their heads and chanted his name.

Damn it...

Ian finally squeezed his eyes shut. It was a reality he had no desire to accept. But of course, closing his eyes did not allow him to turn away from it.

The resonance that spread from somewhere deep within him, and the faint heat in his left arm, only grew clearer.

When he opened his eyes again, teeth clenched, his gaze naturally shifted to Seras, who stood slightly ahead to his right.

The thought had crossed his mind that this might have been a situation she had orchestrated.

Like the others on the platform, Seras had been staring at him blankly, but she flinched and blinked at his look. Even amid the chaos, she seemed to grasp at once the meaning in his gaze.

Her lips moved urgently. “P-Please do not misunderstand, Agent of the Saint. I did nothing. Truly!”

Even within the thunderous shouts that shook the air, Seras’s voice pierced his ears clearly.

“...Tch.”

Ian clicked his tongue at last. He realized she was not lying.

Her pupils were slightly unfocused, her breathing uneven, and cold sweat beaded across her brow.

“It seems...” A low voice followed immediately from beside him. “No matter how much you try to refuse and struggle against it, it appears you are fated to sit upon the throne, Agent of the Saint.”

It was, of course, Thesaya. Having already regained her composure, she looked at him with a sly smile. She even tilted the steel circlet resting in her hands up and down as if to show it off.

However, the vein that rose along Ian’s jaw was not because of that alone.

Before Thesaya had even finished speaking, a new quest window abruptly appeared before his eyes.

[King of the North.]

And this time, there was not even an option to refuse.

At last, Ian let out a sigh and closed the quest window. Beyond Thesaya, whose brows twitched faintly, Cherwyn and Miguel came clearly into view as they turned to look at him. They, too, wore faint, knowing smiles.

When their eyes met his, and they gave slight nods, Ian finally turned his gaze forward once more. The crowd filling the square and the streets beyond flooded his vision.

“Ian Hope! Ian Hope!”

“Ian Hope!”

“Ooooooo—”

The thunderous chanting continued to shake the air. The residents of Travelga, nobles and citizens from other cities, barbarians, garrisons, mercenaries, priests, even mages, all of them raised their fists and chanted his name.

Even the sacred flames blazing in the two braziers flared fiercely, as though responding to their cries.

Only the former archduke’s family and Mev were glaring stiffly at Utrid or staring at Ian with hardened expressions.

Of course, when their eyes met, Mev also gave him a small nod. He clenched his teeth and held her flickering green gaze for only a moment.

“Q-Quiet! Silence!”

When Ian finally turned his head, the masked bishop shouted, shoulders trembling.

However, the cries did not cease. Even as the flustered bishop waved both arms above his head, nothing changed.

“Ian Hope!”

“Ian Hope! Ian Hope!”

Everyone continued shouting as though they would not stop until Ian himself accepted it.

“Agent of the Saint.” Seras’s low voice reached him then.

The crimson eyes fixed on Ian no longer held confusion. Instead, a strange anticipation and excitement had spread within them.

“It seems you will have to step forward yourself.”

After looking at her for a moment, Ian swallowed a sigh and stepped forward.

“Ian Hope!”

“Ian!”

As he passed Seras, the cheers truly subsided. The entire city fell silent again when Ian stopped before the platform.

Instead, every gaze in the square focused on him. Ian swept over the faces filled with expectation without expression, then finally opened his mouth.

“I do not blindly serve the heavens, nor do I pledge one-sided loyalty to the Empire. Nor do I have the slightest intention of meekly submitting to fate.”

His voice carried far across the square. Even without intending it, the resonance within him bled into his words.

Of course, the widening eyes of several people weren’t because of that.

“Wha...‌”

“What?”

Ian was calmly uttering words that bordered on blasphemy or even treason. The shocked murmurs spreading behind the platform likely stemmed from the same reason.

“That steel circlet will not be able to bind me. I am the Great Warrior of the North, but—”

The air sank as though doused with cold water, yet Ian continued speaking without concern. He had no intention of being pushed onto the throne and having his ankles shackled.

Even if this caused the quest to fail, so be it. That he felt not the slightest regret, unlike usual, was hardly surprising.

“I’m the agent of the Platinum Dragon, and a mercenary who takes on commissions.”

When he finished speaking, a different kind of silence settled over the city.

Ian flicked a glance at Mev. Her lips were slightly parted, and she stared at him in stunned disbelief. Even Mukapa, standing behind her, wore the same expression, a rare sight.

Nasser, with a hand pressed to his forehead, was slowly shaking his head. The only ones wearing faint, peculiar smiles were the centurions standing behind him.

Soon, Ian turned his gaze back toward the square and opened his mouth once more.

“I ask once more the people of the North, excluding the wild tribes. Do you still wish for me to rule you?”

Cheers erupted here and there. However, they were far quieter than before. Most faces still had not recovered from their shock.

As expected.

Just as the corner of Ian’s mouth curled faintly at his unspoken thought, a clear, resonant voice spread from behind.

“The God of Battle neither received nor served the blessings of the heavens in life.”

It was Cherwyn.

Ian faltered because divinity clung to her voice. “He fought solely with his own strength and carved out his fate, building his stature until he finally ascended.”

Ian turned to look at Cherwyn as she stepped forward. As expected, a gentle sacred flame shimmered through her hair. It was then that her divinity-laden eyes met his.

“The newly born demigod of the North must likewise be seeking to reject fate and walk his own path. Battle is the spirit of the North, and I honor that noble will.”

As Cherwyn added her words clearly, meeting his gaze without wavering, Ian’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Furthermore, the demigod has inherited the sacred blood of the First Emperor.”

A bright, ringing voice followed from the side, Seras.

As Ian’s gaze shifted, she continued, “The most exalted blood flows within him. Just as they do toward His August Majesty the Emperor, the people of the Empire ought to pledge their loyalty to the demigod.”

Why are you joining in too?

A silent, incredulous laugh spread across Ian’s lips as he looked at Seras.

The logic was crude, obviously improvised. She had clearly seized the moment to force her way in. Yet Seras faced the square boldly, as if proving her Imperial lineage. And it seemed to work.

“Ah...‌”

“Indeed...‌”

Faint murmurs of awe rippled throughout the square. That Seras was of direct Imperial blood and that she took no issue with Ian’s earlier words was evidently what mattered.

“If my words stand contrary to the will of the heavens, let divine punishment descend upon this place.”

It was then that Cherwyn interjected once more.

“As an apostle of the Blazing Goddess, I shall humbly accept it.”

Spreading both arms wide, she looked up at the sky and slowly closed her eyes.

Of course, no divine punishment fell.

Whoosh!

Instead, beyond them, the sacred flames in the two braziers flared larger and more brilliant.

When Ian looked ahead, he could clearly see the wave of divinity spreading beyond the square and across the entire city.

Are they all in this together?

He clicked his tongue—then froze. The heat in his left arm suddenly surged, spreading through him.

You too?

By the time that thought finished forming, the white ceremonial robe he wore had begun to stain gradually with crimson divinity.

“Karha has acknowledged him as well!”

“Superhuman of the North!”

The gasps rippling through the square only grew louder.

Ian’s eyes twisted fully as he looked down at himself.

“As the official presiding authority of this ceremony, I ask one final time!” Seras’s solemn cry rang out then.

One hand placed before her abdomen, the other extended toward the square, she shouted, “People of the North! Will you follow a demigod who does not reign over you?”

“We will follow!”

The first to shout were, of course, the barbarians. Unlike before, the roar spread in an instant across the square and the entire city.

As Ian watched the surging tide of sound, Seras’s voice cut through to his ears. “He who has been chosen by the North, walk against the path of oath and uphold a new destiny.”

Her voice remained solemn, yet carried a faint note of satisfaction.

At last, a long sigh slipped from Ian’s nose. Only then did it occur to him that from the moment the stage had been set, there might never have been any path of retreat.

At least I am not completely bridled, I suppose...

Thinking that, he clenched his fist tightly and finally began walking toward the steps at the center of the platform.

The resonance deep within him now thundered like war drums, echoing through him as he walked.