I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 737

"Waaaaaaah—"

"Demigod of the North!"

"Ian Hope! Ian Hope!"

The thunder of cheers and shouts crashed in from every direction.

Even the soldiers lined in two long rows struck the butts of their spears against the ground in rhythm, producing heavy, pounding beats.

Thud— thud—

Yet Ian’s face, as he walked straight through the center of it all, remained utterly expressionless. It was not a mask.

Is this really right?

He was busy suppressing the sigh that kept threatening to burst from him.

The divinity of Karha that had settled over him had at least subsided, but the heat in his left arm remained unchanged. It even flickered as though laughing, scraping at his nerves.

They’re having quite the celebration over there, too.

Beyond them, the sacred flames atop the brazier carts were still blazing fiercely. They radiated such heat in every direction that it felt warm despite the depth of winter.

Whoosh—

Swallowing another sigh, Ian stepped between the two lines of ember priests.

The torches they held aloft burned brighter as he passed, flaring violently, as if resonating with the vibration emanating from him.

Ian did not so much as glance at them.

His gaze was fixed instead on Utrid, who stood waiting beyond, his back to the braziers.

That damned bastard who had dealt him a blow worse than anything he had done to his own father now held the cloak he had been wearing in both hands, removed from his shoulders.

As Ian passed the priests, Utrid dipped his head slightly. "Please, this way, Your Excellency."

Without taking his eyes off him, Ian approached and finally stopped before him.

"I didn’t expect you to take revenge like this."

Ian did not bother to conceal the killing intent in either his gaze or his voice.

Utrid paused, then lifted his head. "Revenge... you say?"

"You knew I had no desire for the archduke’s seat. After all the effort to pave the road, you kicked it away in front of everyone."

As Ian continued speaking, a peculiar smile spread across Utrid’s bearded face.

At last, he lowered his head slightly once more and answered, "I merely fought, in my own way, to reclaim my original life, Your Excellency. The position never suited me to begin with."

"I should have told you sooner that the seat shapes the man," Ian muttered after staring at him for a moment.

He really takes after Olaf, always having the last word.

Instead of replying, Utrid straightened and lightly shook the cloak he held raised to his chest. "Please turn around, Your Excellency. The path of oath awaits."

Ian exhaled slowly through his nose and turned without protest. There was, of course, no clumsy assassination attempt.

Utrid stepped forward and draped the cloak over Ian’s shoulders.

"Only now does my heart feel at ease."

He did not forget to add that in a light, almost relieved tone.

The bridge of Ian’s nose twitched faintly.

"Silence! Silence!"

From beyond them, the bishop’s shout rang out again. The dignity from before was nowhere to be found; his voice was half hoarse.

Fortunately, this time, the cheers and applause echoing in all directions gradually subsided.

"Let the chosen one walk the path of oath." Seras’s solemn voice rang out from the center of the platform.

The sacred flames atop the torches, which the ember priests held angled high, flared violently as though responding to her words.

The heat branded into Ian’s left arm burned hotter, like a searing mark.

I’m going. Stop rushing me.

Cursing inwardly, Ian moved. With every step, the resonance spreading through him rang clearly. It was likely because of the rows of soldiers and the burning gazes of those standing beyond them.

Fwoosh...

The torches lined above him surged upward in rippling waves of flame. Ian did not so much as glance at them this time either.

So this is what you all wanted.

His eyes swept over the platform that was drawing closer. Seras and Cherwyn, Thesaya and Miguel, even the priests lined up behind them, watched him with faint smiles playing at their lips.

It was not only their expressions that bothered him.

No matter what I said, once I receive the crown...

This had already happened. There was no avoiding it. He had to accept reality and consider what came next.

I can’t just kick over the table and walk away as I did in the snowfields. Which means I need to manage this properly.

Multiple thoughts flashed through his mind at once. It was not actually that complicated. He might be hopeless at politics, but he was still someone from the modern world.

Step— step—

Even as he sorted through his thoughts, Ian did not slow his stride. Before long, he began ascending the steps that led up to the platform.

Seras and Thesaya stood before the priests. Cherwyn and Miguel drew closer.

Shimmer...

Only then did Ian notice that crimson divinity had gathered upon the steel circlet resting in Thesaya’s hands. There was no need to think deeply about what that meant. Karha was pleased.

When Ian reached the platform, Seras spoke again. "Let the chosen one kneel upon one knee and receive the guidance of fate."

Ian complied readily, lowering himself to one knee.

Cherwyn stepped forward immediately after.

"As the chosen one, do you swear to fight with your life for the North and the continent as its leader?"

Her divinity-laced voice spread outward.

Ian immediately realized that she was being considerate of him. She had deliberately chosen certain words for their double meaning. Of course, it was likely also for the sake of her own wish.

In any case, this was a question he could answer.

"I swear," Ian said after a brief silence.

Cherwyn continued, "Do you swear to guard against the whispers of the gods and to resist corruption?"

"I swear."

"Raise your head."

When Ian lifted his head, Miguel stepped forward.

Cherwyn took the dish of holy oil from him and muttered, "O heavens, guide the demigod who does not serve."

Thick oil poured over the crown of Ian’s head. His eyes twitched faintly as the resonance within him, which had subsided, suddenly flared vividly once more.

Swoosh—

The oil running down his face evaporated almost immediately. It did not merely dissipate—it scattered in rainbow hues, and a golden radiance shimmered around Ian.

As Cherwyn and Miguel drew sharp breaths, hushed gasps spread from behind them.

"Th-The Golden Demigod!"

"Demigod... of the North!"

It was clear that the gathered crowd could see this miracle as well. To them, it must have felt like undeniable proof that Ian carried divinity within him.

Whoosh—

It truly was the case. Ian could feel a portion of the energy contained within the holy oil seeping into him.

Opening his status window reflexively, he realized that every one of his attributes had increased by one. Even the skill level of Willful Grasp, something that normally could not be raised, had gone up as well.

So this is the quest’s reward.

Cherwyn and Miguel stepped back in retreat. It was not deference to Ian, but to the miracle itself.

Next to step forward were Seras and Thesaya.

"In place of His August Majesty the Emperor, I declare."

Seras waited until the iridescent glow and golden radiance around Ian had fully subsided before speaking, "I grant to Ian Hope, Margarve of the Snowfields, the governing authority of an autonomous territory, and invest him as Archduke of the North."

The words were more than enough to make Ian clench his teeth. Of course, Seras continued solemnly without the slightest hesitation.

"This authority shall include all rights inherent to his existing titles and shall guarantee independence from all forms of external interference, save for Imperial decree."

In the next moment, Seras bowed her head and slowly placed the steel circlet she held in both hands upon Ian’s head.

The circlet burned hot as it touched him, yet there was no change in Seras’s touch or breathing.

Rumble—

Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder roared the instant her hands left the circlet.

Beneath that sound, Ian heard Karha’s laughter brushing past his ears.

Having fun?

His nose twitched.

The divinity of the battle tattoo and the circlet were resonating with each other.

Heat flowed down from the circlet, spreading faintly through him.

"Archduke, please rise," said Seras, stepping back. Her voice carried a low tremor, as though she had been suppressing it all this time.

However, the twitch in Ian’s eyes was not because of that.

Unlike Seras, Thesaya, who had wrapped a strip of red cloth around one arm, strode forward to stand at his side.

"Turn around, Your Grace," Thesaya whispered as their eyes met, the faintest smile curving her lips.

Even as his brow furrowed further, Ian complied and turned. It was a step that had to be done.

"People of the North, hear me." Thesaya straightened her posture and spoke almost at once.

Ian paused slightly when he felt magic woven into her voice.

"The one who stands before you is a paladin of the Stern Goddess, blessed by the Goddess of Prosperity and the Blazing Goddess. He is the chosen one who rejected divine revelation."

Are you doing this too?

Ian clicked his tongue inwardly but straightened his posture. Once begun, it could not be stopped.

"He is the savior of the frontier and the bearer who rekindled the sacred braziers. The final executioner of the Giant Kingdom, and the dragon slayer who pierced the heart of the corrupted dragon."

Thesaya continued without sparing him a glance. Her hand, wrapped in crimson cloth, rested over her chest.

"The executioner of the shadowed vampire clan, the purifier of corruption and plague, and the western adjudicator who slew the fallen duke. The benefactor of the wisest star, the guardian of the northern front, and the godslayer who cut down the avatar of chaos."

Her voice neither rushed nor slowed, never once faltering. At last, Ian’s eyes narrowed again. She was reciting in far too much detail.

"He who returned from the demonic realm of the Black Lands, the guardian of the continent who subjugated archdemons in the jungle, the desert, the deep sea, and the snowfields. The true Great Warrior of both the snowfield tribes and the Southern beastfolk."

Yet Thesaya’s expression and tone were more serious than ever. There was even a distinct tenacity of a fairy in her gaze.

What left Ian most dumbfounded, however, was the fact that it was working.

At some point, the gazes fixed on the platform had shimmered with overwhelming intensity. A few eyes were even reddening with tears. Most of them were barbarians.

So I’m the only one who’s tired of this.

Ian understood the reason easily enough.

Everywhere else he went, people recognized him on sight. In the North, especially among the barbarians, he hardly needed such grand introductions.

"Bearer of the Sacred Blood, benefactor of the fairy race and of Horse Erenos. Heavenly envoy who gave birth to a new holy ground in the frontier. The one and only official Agent of the Great Platinum Dragon. The Demigod who guards the North. And—"

Thesaya paused briefly and slowly swept her gaze over the square and the city, which lay sunk in heated silence. Her eyes lingered on Ian for a moment before she turned forward again and spoke.

"...the ruler of the North who does not reign, His Grace Archduke Ian Hope. Render due honor, and welcome your lord."

"O-Our king! May you reign eternal—"

Before her words had even fully settled, a cry burst from somewhere in the square. The trembling voice was thick with emotion—whether joy or awe, it was hard to tell.

"Eternal!"

"For the Demigod of the North!"

"We will follow!"

"Ooooo—"

As though that had been a signal, the entire city erupted in thunderous cheers. For a moment, Ian felt as if he were being pushed backward by the force of it.

Without realizing it, he drew a breath. A quest completion window appeared before his eyes. The heat enveloping his body sharpened, and the resonance spreading within him grew clearer still.

"Good thing I prepared."

It was then that Thesaya’s voice, tinged with laughter, slipped into his ear.

Narrowing his eyes, Ian closed the completion window and turned to her.

"You could’ve given me a heads-up."

"If I had, you would’ve stopped it." Thesaya swept her proud gaze across the scene before finally meeting his eyes. "Well, I’ll decline your thanks for my consideration, Ian."

Whether the "consideration" meant secretly preparing all this, or refraining from mentioning the White Mage or the Heaven Defier, was unclear. Perhaps it was both.

"I wasn’t planning to thank you in the first place."

"That’s a bit hurtful. Look, Ian. Even the heavens are blessing you."

At her slight tilt of the head, Ian turned forward again. He clicked his tongue softly when he realized she was right.

The dark clouds overhead had split apart as though torn open, and shafts of radiant light were pouring down across the city. A rainbow shimmered faintly in a great arc across the sky.

At this point, it was hardly surprising.

Don’t tell me they’re planning to turn this place into another holy land. Maybe that’s why they keep backing me no matter what I do.

Ian’s eyes drifted down toward the foot of the platform.

Among the centurions and generals raising both hands and roaring their cheers, Mev stood with her fist pressed to her breastplate, looking up at him with blazing eyes.

When their gazes met, she nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks.

Now you’re crying too?

A quiet huff of disbelief escaped him.

Footsteps began approaching from behind, and Thesaya’s voice followed smoothly.

"Shall we descend, Your Grace?"

Ian’s eyes finally shifted to the path stretching out before the platform. Beyond the cheering soldiers and priests, a brazier cart was being brought forward.

His brow twitched. "You’re not about to tell me I’m supposed to tour the city on that, are you?"

"Why wouldn’t I?" Thesaya answered at once, smiling leisurely under his stare. "Don’t worry. We’ll all ride together."

Behind her, Seras and Cherwyn approached. Even Miguel stepped forward.

Catching Ian’s look, Seras quickly added, "Please do not misunderstand. This was planned from the beginning. Truly."

Originally, she had likely intended to ride with Utrid, subtly demonstrating who truly held authority.

Meticulous to the end.

As Ian let out a sigh, Cherwyn said, "Shall we withdraw to the castle?"

"...No." Shaking his head, Ian stepped forward and added, "Let’s go. This works out well enough. Carry out what you originally planned. Diligently."