I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

"...!" Stephan’s one remaining eye, watching from afar, widened in shock.

His body, being devoured by the mycelium, was rotting and turning black, yet his expression showed no pain, as if he couldn’t feel it.

And in truth, he couldn’t.

Since the moment Ian created the explosive wave of fire resembling lava, Stephan hadn’t taken his eyes off him for even a second. Not only because of the tremendous spell that made one forget this was the twilight of magic, but also because the swordsmanship he displayed was nearly divine.

No brave barbarian or battle-hardened knight could have created such a spectacle. Maybe a few sword masters within the Empire, but certainly not a mage. Moreover, the sword he wielded emanated the power of the void.

Is that a cursed sword imbued with the power of the void…?

It wasn’t a mere illusion. Thanks to gaining new sensory abilities, Stephan could see the chaos power swirling along every trajectory.

... Even so, no one could wield it like that unless they were a being of the void. So, does that mean he is a mage with spells rivaling archmages, a swordsman on par with masters, and also wields the power of the void?

It was an absurd thought, but he couldn’t deny it. The proof was right in front of him.

The thought struck him suddenly, and for the first time, Stephan’s remaining eye widened to its limit.

Then, is the sudden commencement of the ritual all because of him?

He wanted to rush and confirm if his perfectly fitting hypothesis was true. Of course, that was an impossible wish. At this moment, he was rotting and unable to move, and the person who could give him answers was in the middle of the swarming mycelium.

Crack, crack, crack—

Endlessly creating trails covered in flames and violet haze.

Ian, half in a trance, continued to wield his sword, cutting through the horde of mycelium creatures. His joints and muscles screamed in agony, and his nerves felt like they were burning, but he couldn’t stop now.

If he stopped, those mycelium creatures would overwhelm him in an instant. They would devour him down to the last bone in a blink. Then, they would probably resurrect him as one of them, becoming part of the endless cycle.

The thought, similar to what he had often considered, crossed his mind again.

Was this really how the boss fight was supposed to be tackled in the game?

Indeed, these mycelium creatures were individually not that significant. In the game, it would have been a hack-and-slash style boss fight, much like fighting regular monsters. Endlessly slicing through the hordes would have been satisfying. Moreover, he wouldn’t have to worry about physical damage or aftereffects.

The corrosive miasma would reduce equipment durability, the decay mist would deal dot damage, and the germ clusters would cause various status effects. All he had to do was manage his character in his own way to keep them alive.

Of course, that was irrelevant now.

Crack—

In any case, he was almost at the source of this endless multiplication. Feeling the resonance of the shard, Ian saw the faintly visible form through the mycelium.

As I thought, a divine statue.

The statue of Della Lu, standing well over two meters tall and visible only as a dark silhouette, loomed ominously. Once the Goddess of Prosperity and Laziness, she now symbolized decay and disease, becoming a vessel for endless greed.

Crack—

The mycelium sprouting like mushrooms on the statue’s surface was crushed.

Clang!

Ian’s sword struck the statue. He could feel the divine and chaotic energies swirling inside it. Simultaneously, a vision flashed through his mind. The source of divinity, now tinged purple, bore an ominous void mark flickering like hieroglyphs at its center. It was likely the mark from the ritual the corrupters had performed.

They tried to corrupt the source of divinity to use it as a power source for the ritual.

Given more time, they would have fully succeeded. As it stood, they had partially succeeded, using it as a power source, though it wasn’t entirely contaminated. Stopping the mycelium’s multiplication seemed straightforward enough: destroying the statue and the mark should suffice. However, the statue appeared quite durable, resisting both his magic and strikes. Nevertheless, repeated attacks would eventually break it.

... But then the source of divinity would be destroyed as well.

He had another option, one normally only possible if he were corrupted. Ian’s bloodshot eyes flared momentarily.

Boom!

An explosion beneath his blade scorched the surrounding mycelium, also engulfing Ian’s lower body. Unblinking amidst the heat, Ian fixed his gaze on the statue in the center of the explosion.

You can thank me with blessings or money. Skill points would be even better.

With this thought, Ian extended his left arm to grasp the hand of the blackened statue. The shard of chaos resonated eagerly.

***

"Oh, Lu Solar…" At the end of the corridor, a blonde priest named Luce crouched near the stairs and sighed. His gaze was fixed at the bottom of the stairs, which seemed to lead deep underground.

He had no choice. Not long after the black-haired knight had descended, loud and small explosions began echoing continuously. Flashes of light illuminated the stairs, and faint heat filled the corridor, trembling with vibrations. From here, he had no way of knowing what lay below or what was happening.

"Are you alright?"

A voice beside him nearly startled Luce to the point of a heart attack. He turned to see Philip approaching. Luce wasn’t the only one who was scared—the undead continued to advance, but the brown-haired paladin dealt with those pitiful, terrifying creatures.

Philip had left Luce here, repeatedly dashing into the corridor’s darkness and returning. Now, the gentle glow that had once surrounded Philip’s sword had faded significantly. Staring blankly at the black blood trickling down Philip’s face, Luce suddenly spoke, recalling the steel gauntlets.

"I-I’m fine. How about you, sir?"

"Oh, I’m used to this. You can relax now. It seems there are no more undead left."

"That’s a relief, but..."

Luce’s gaze returned to the stairs.

"I don’t think we can relax just yet."

"Ah, you’re more worried about that side." Philip also glanced at the distant flickering light from the stairs. Another loud explosion followed.

"Don’t worry. For him, this is routine. Sir Ivan won’t lose."

"You sound certain."

"If he loses, the world might as well end."

"...?"

At Luce’s bewildered look, Philip quickly let out a hearty laugh. "I mean, he’s that strong. Trust me. We’ve fought and defeated countless void creatures together."

"What…"

…Kind of lives are you all living?

Luce barely swallowed the words that reached the tip of his tongue. He knew they would undoubtedly sound rude.

The light from below the stairs subtly illuminated Philip’s face, and Luce realized this paladin wasn’t much older than him. They might even be the same age. Moreover, there was a faint trace of fear in his eyes, though he was overcoming it. Noticing this, Luce found himself speaking without thinking.

"Sir Philip."

"Yes?"

"How did you become a paladin?"

"Well... Actually, I need to be honest with you. I’m not a paladin. I haven’t even been knighted yet."

"...!" Luce’s eyes widened at Philip’s words.

Philip scratched his head and continued, somewhat sheepishly. "My role is that of a squire. I serve a paladin. I’m just a lucky kid who got his hands on a holy relic."

"...."

"I apologize for deceiving you, Father Luce." Philip bowed his head respectfully.

Snapping out of his shock, Luce hurriedly waved his hands. "No, no, there’s no need to apologize. It doesn’t change the fact that you saved my life."

"Thank you for understanding."

"Actually... It’s more impressive. I’ve heard that serving a paladin is incredibly difficult and dangerous."

Philip shrugged with a small smile. "Fortunately, my lords aren’t that demanding. Sir Ivan may seem tough, but he’s actually a kind person. Though the job is indeed very dangerous. Extremely so, most of the time."

"... Then why don’t you quit? Do you have a reason to continue such a dangerous mission?"

"A reason...?" Philip tilted his head in puzzlement and then added, "Helping those who risk their lives fighting the forces of darkness. Why would I need any other reason?"

"...." Luce was speechless once again.

At that moment, a loud noise and a blinding flash erupted from below the stairs almost simultaneously. Luce blinked, momentarily seeing a faint glow around the squire’s head. It was only for a brief moment. As the light faded, Philip’s face returned to shadow. It must have been a trick of the light scattering.

"Perhaps... you are...."

Rumble—

As Luce murmured, the entire corridor started shaking as if an earthquake had struck. Simultaneously, a strange pressure bore down on Luce’s entire body. Philip rushed to him, eyes wide.

"Get down, priest."

"Yes, yes...!" Luce dropped to the ground, and Philip kneeled beside him, raising a round shield over Luce’s body, clearly preparing for the possibility of the ceiling collapsing.

"What’s happening?" Luce shouted, his head pressed to the floor.

Philip’s calm voice responded immediately. "The barrier surrounding the church is collapsing. Or the demonic realm is closing."

"...!" Luce looked up involuntarily, seeing Philip’s face with a gentle smile. He spoke in a daze. "Does that mean...?"

"Yes. Sir Ivan has won."

"Are you... sure about that?"

Philip shrugged one shoulder. "Probably. I’ve been in a similar situation before."

When the Vampire Empress was slain, the dissolution of the Labyrinth Mansion’s barrier felt quite similar. Of course, Philip didn’t provide that detailed explanation. He simply waited calmly, trusting the vibrations, pressure, and strange sensations to pass.

Soon, the vibrations subsided. Philip cautiously removed the shield covering Luce’s head and stood up. The corridor, now much shorter, was littered with mangled, dismembered, and charred corpses. Philip grimaced and glanced back at the stairs that had returned to their original form.

"Is it... over?" Luce’s voice trembled.

Philip, who had helped him to his feet, smiled. "Yes. Let’s go down."

"R-Right now?"

"You heard the noise. We need to check on Sir Ivan. That’s my duty."

"...."

Philip turned and descended the stairs briskly. Luce, after a moment’s hesitation and a glance at the corridor full of bodies, followed without a word.

Soon, the chapel came into view. It was charred black, as if it had been scorched. The smell of burning filled the air, and the floor was covered in ash. It was so thoroughly incinerated that it was impossible to tell what had originally been there. However, Philip and Luce paid no attention to the ash. From the moment they entered the chapel, their eyes were fixed on the same spot.

"Oh, Della Lu...."

On the ruined dais, the statue of Della Lu stood almost intact. Despite numerous large and small scars, it kept its original form and even emanated a faint glow. It had not lost its divinity.

Luce alone was moved to tears by this sight. Philip, however, focused on the area beneath the statue’s knees and began moving through the ash.

"Sir, are you alright?"

Ian, looking as if he had rolled in the ash, was slumped at the statue’s feet.

"... No, not at all," Ian answered in a cracked voice as he staggered to his feet.

Ash puffed from his body as he moved. Luce gaped at the sight of Ian, whose body was covered in the same faint glow as the statue.

"S-sir Ian..." Luce spoke with difficulty. "Have you been chosen by Della Lu...?"

Ian, leaning wearily against the statue, brushed his hair and replied. "I was offered, but I declined."

"...?!" Luce’s eyes widened even more.

Ian, turning his gaze to the approaching Philip, added indifferently.

"She’s just not the right fit for me."