I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

So I guess he really is my aide.

Then again, it made sense—after all, the Saintess of the Temple of Brazier was the Emperor’s sister. Miguel was probably one of the few who could assist him without feeling burdened by Ian’s authority.

Ian gave him a nod. "So I guess you got a bit bored waiting?"

Miguel laughed, glancing at the men sprawled around. "Bored? These idiots are—ugh!"

Just as he spoke, Miguel was suddenly shoved backward as the man beneath him gathered his strength and pushed him off. Miguel hit the ground, and, almost simultaneously, the tavern doors swung open.

"Melin! Your face! You bastard, what the hell did you do—"

Two men emerged, apparently friends of the guy Miguel had been fighting. One of them hurled insults as he charged at Miguel.

The second man, a hulking figure with a thick beard and a bald head, adjusted his spiked leather gloves on his hands. He locked eyes on Miguel, who was regaining his footing, while his friend rushed forward.

Simultaneously, Miguel ducked and slipped his arm under the lunging man’s armpit in one swift move.

The man was forcefully thrown to the ground, letting out a brief scream.

Pinning him down, Miguel turned to Ian. "These guys were mouthing off about Lucy."

"Oh, is that so?" Ian replied casually, moving forward without missing a beat.

"Wha—who…?" The bald man finally noticed Ian, turning his head in shock. That was probably the last thing he would remember.

Whack!

With no warning, Ian’s fist collided squarely with the man’s face, sending his head snapping backward. He toppled like a log.

"Whoa—My brother! Don’t kill him! Just don’t kill him!" Miguel shouted hastily.

Ian snorted. "Didn’t kill him."

Ian had actually held back with that punch, despite how it looked.

Even out here on the frontier, they were still in Imperial territory, and killing someone in the middle of town wasn’t something to take lightly. That was likely why Miguel’s attackers hadn’t drawn any weapons themselves. Of course, for Ian, holding back required far more focus than simply killing them would have.

Thud...

The bald man hit the ground with a heavy thud, blood pooling from his smashed nose and mouth. Ian nudged the man’s head to the side with his foot—no point in letting him drown in his blood. Broken teeth and blood trickled from his mouth. It was likely he wouldn’t be chewing much for a while, perhaps never again if he was unlucky.

Well, as long as he’s not dead, Ian thought, just as Miguel cursed under his breath.

"This son of a—" Miguel was sent sprawling, swearing as he went down—the guy he’d tangled with earlier had come charging at him again. The man Miguel had slammed into the floor was also shakily trying to get back on his feet.

"H-hey brother, can you check on Lucy for me, just in case?" Miguel called, catching his breath. "She’ll probably be fine, but—"

Before Miguel could finish, Ian was already heading toward the tavern door. Miguel wasn’t likely to have any trouble with these lowlifes; Ian was more concerned about whoever was inside.

"You bastard—!"

"Kill him! Kill him!"

As Ian opened the door, the shouts and curses grew louder. He stepped inside without hesitation.

"And who the hell is this?"

The guy standing by the door, chest heaving, turned to Ian with a snarl. Without a word, Ian’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, sending him reeling sideways and collapsing to the floor. Ian didn’t spare him a glance as he scanned the chaos within.

It’s a complete mess here.

A dozen or so drunkards were brawling on every side. Some were already sprawled across the floor, unconscious or writhing. Most of them seemed to be mercenaries or thugs, members of different groups mixed. It was almost miraculous that no one had drawn weapons yet—a testament to the city’s efforts to keep the peace.

Of course, he had no interest in the details of how this mess started. He only took a quick scan of the chaos before focusing on his next steps. His gaze swept over the room until it landed on a familiar face in the corner, her short red hair flickering in the dim light.

It was Lucia—Mev’s cousin and the new ember blessed by Lu Enter. She’d grown taller since he last saw her, and her features had sharpened, adding a fierce determination to her expression. She looked almost like a young adventurer freshly out in the world, dressed in snug leather armor reinforced with a chain, much like Miguel’s.

However, what caught Ian’s attention was not only her appearance.

Looks like she’s been doing more than just studying at the temple.

She was gripping a broken chair leg in each hand, wielding them like clubs. Judging by the splintered wood, she’d already smashed someone with them. Her face remained impassive, yet her bright green eyes sparkled as if she was enjoying herself, completely unafraid. Ian’s worries felt almost absurd at that point.

Right… she became the Apostle of the Blazing Goddess, Ian thought, then instinctively stepped back.

"You bastard, who do you think you’re blocking—ugh

A thug lunged at him from the side, only to catch nothing but the edge of Ian’s shadowed cloak as Ian sidestepped him. Ian casually stuck out a foot, tripping the man as he stumbled past.

Crunch.

The man’s knee buckled, and he collapsed in confusion more than pain. Before he could even register what was happening, Ian’s steel-clad hand descended in a sharp chop to his collarbone.

Snap!

The man’s head lolled to the side, his eyes rolling back as his arm went limp. His collarbone seemed to be shattered. He wouldn’t be able to lift his right arm for a while, if ever again. Ian grabbed the back of his neck and tossed him into a corner, then continued moving forward. He intended to clean up this mess quickly so he could properly greet Lucia.

Crunch—snap!

Ian moved fluidly, delivering precise blows to each thug in his path, chopping them across the neck without hesitation. Each went down with a single hit, and Ian threw their unconscious bodies toward the walls in a rhythm as effortlessly as if he were going through a set of routine motions.

Of course, Ian’s calm demeanor was just a front. Making sure no one died in the chaos felt like walking on thin ice.

The tavern finally fell silent when Ian flung the seventh man against the wall. Everyone stopped fighting, staring at him with dazed expressions as they belatedly realized that someone was efficiently cleaning up the chaos.

Lucia was no different. She was kicking a fallen thug before suddenly noticing Ian. Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked at him.

"Sir Ian…!" Her expressionless face quickly broke into a wide smile, and she raised a hand, still gripping what was once a chair leg.

"Temple life must’ve been stifling, huh?"

Lucia’s grin brightened even more. "Not at all! I had a great time."

"... Good. Glad to hear it. Stand back for now; we’ll talk more in a moment."

Ian’s gaze shifted to the rest of the room.

"Once I finish cleaning this up."

The mercenaries who met Ian’s gaze quickly looked away, their faces stripped of any trace of drunken excitement. It was only natural—they’d just witnessed him knocking people out with a single blow and tossing them aside like toys.

"I heard someone here insulted my niece," Ian said bluntly.

"If you confess now, I’ll let the others go."

The mercenaries exchanged quick glances, the silence breaking almost instantly.

"I-It was him!"

"What?! Not me! I saw him talking trash—I swear!"

"You filthy rat, trying to pin it on me?"

The room erupted again as they began pointing fingers, yelling accusations, and nearly coming to blows.

…They’re about to fight again, Typical mercenaries.

Ian thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"So, all of you are guilty, then."

Silence dropped like a stone. Ian raised his fist from under his cloak.

"Kneel. Or get knocked out."

"D-damn it…."

"Ah…"

The mercenaries’ faces twisted in unease. Some hesitated, crouching slightly, while others quietly reached for the weapons at their belts. A cold tension settled over the room.

Crash!

The door burst open, nearly splintering off its hinges as guards holding spears rushed into the tavern.

"Everyone, freeze! Hands up, and kneel!"

As a line of guards filed into the room, a man who appeared to be the guard captain shouted. The mercenaries promptly raised their hands and dropped to their knees, a look of relief spreading over their faces. Facing a cold prison cell was far better than risking further injury at Ian’s fists.

The only ones still standing were Ian, Lucia—and one other.

"Aw, hell… I’m telling you, I’m the victim here!" Miguel grumbled as he was dragged in, hands bound behind his back. Scowling at the captain, he added, "I’m a priest, damn it! Not a thug or mercenary! Why doesn’t anyone believe me?"

…Honestly, I wouldn’t believe it either, Ian thought with a silent chuckle.

Dressed as he was, Miguel looked every bit the part of a thug or mercenary—especially with the steel prosthetic hand he was wearing.

"He really is a priest," Lucia spoke up before Ian could respond. She’d already discarded the chair leg and was walking forward with her hands open. "Allow me to prove our identities first, and then I’ll explain the situation."

Smiling, she pulled out her identification papers, looking a hundred times more credible than Miguel.

"Understood…" the captain said, taking her identification.

Lucia glanced back at Ian, giving him a quick wink.

They grow up too fast, Ian mused, stifling a laugh as the captain’s eyes widened in realization.

"You’re… from the Temple of the Brazier?"

That was all it took to stiffen the faces of the kneeling thugs once more. Miguel, seizing the moment, held his head high. "See? Now unbind me—before the Blazing Goddess brings divine punishment upon you!"

***

"Thank you for your understanding, Priest," the captain said, bowing his head again.

"Ah, don’t mention it. All’s fine now," Miguel replied, waving it off.

Glaring at the line of mercenaries being hauled off, the captain added cooly, "Don’t worry about those scum. They’ll pay dearly for daring to show disrespect to the Saintess."

Miguel had introduced Lucia as the Apostle of the Blazing Goddess and the future Saintess of the Temple of the Brazier. That alone was enough to make the guards treat her with the utmost respect.

Smiling with calm composure, Lucia spoke, "Please don’t punish them too harshly. Make sure only the guilty are held accountable."

"How merciful of you. Of course. Still, they won’t escape reprimand—they damaged property and caused a public disturbance."

"For that, I apologize as well. The brawl got out of hand—"

Ian tuned out the rest of the conversation and made his way to the kitchen. The situation was handling itself perfectly well without him. Inside, a maid sighed as she gathered the shattered pieces of furniture, while the innkeeper leaned against the wall, staring blankly ahead.

Of course, the lord would compensate them, but the amount likely wouldn’t be nearly enough to replace all the broken furniture and equipment, Ian thought, noticing the innkeeper’s gaze shifting to Ian as he approached.

"Take this," Ian said, extending his hand.

The innkeeper hesitantly accepted what Ian offered, his eyes widening as he realized he’d been given two gold coins. The maid paused her work to glance over, while the innkeeper bowed deeply.

"Th-thank you, sir priest! Such generosity—may the Blazing Goddess bless you."

Priest?

Ian held back a smirk but added, "That covers tonight’s lodging and meals as well."

"Of course, of course! I’ll prepare our finest room for you. Shall I start with dinner?" The innkeeper replied, bowing respectfully.

The maid turned on her heel, dragging an intact table and chairs to the center of the room, pointedly ignoring the departing mercenaries.

"I’d like to have a quiet meal and conversation. Once everything is ready, could you clear the area?"

"Certainly. With all that’s happened, we won’t be taking any more guests tonight anyway. I’ll lock the doors until morning," the innkeeper said, giving a quick signal to the maid before hurrying back to the kitchen.

The maid approached Ian and asked, "Would you like some drinks first?"

"Three mugs of beer and three small cups will do."

"Yes, I’ll get that for you right away."

Ian took another look around the room. The mercenaries had all been cleared out, with soldiers dragging even the unconscious ones outside. The tavern was still a mess, though, and in the middle of the wreckage stood a lone round table with three chairs, creating an almost surreal scene.

As the maid carefully placed the glasses on the table, the guard captain gave a respectful bow.

"Then, I wish you all a peaceful night," he said, turning with his soldiers to leave—no doubt to face a long night shift.

Finally, a calm silence settled over the tavern. However, it didn’t last long, as a chuckle escaped Miguel after he exchanged a look with Lucia.

"Well, that was one chaotic reunion," he said, casting a quick glance at the innkeeper, who was bringing plates of food to the table, before looking back at Ian. "Reminds me of old times, right, my brother? …Ah, my bad, I shouldn’t call you brother anymore."

Ian broke into a grin. "No need for that. Just call me what you always have."

"Are you sure? Heh," Miguel replied, smiling back. "Then you do the same, Brother. I still get all itchy hearing people call me Priest."

"Me too. And they even call me the Saintess," Lucia added.

She’s even learned to joke now.

As Ian chuckled once more, the innkeeper finished preparing the meal, locked the door, and stood by the stairs with the maid at his side.

"Yes, thank you."

"Thank you."

As Ian settled into his seat, Lucia and Miguel responded in turn and took their places as well.

Almost in unison, they both bowed their heads slightly and clasped their hands together. It didn’t seem deliberate, but more like a natural habit ingrained. Soon, Lucia murmured a soft, swift prayer.

Seeing this, it’s feeling real, Ian thought, quietly observing Lucia’s face. The stoic, solitary girl he once knew was no longer there. This change was certainly for the better. For a moment, he could almost see Mev’s face overlaid on hers, though Lucia’s expression was softer.

"Sorry to keep you waiting so long," Lucia said, looking up with a shy smile.

Ian shrugged and picked up the glass before him, his gaze shifting between Lucia and Miguel.

"So… you two are really my aides in this?"

Lucia’s smile faltered for a moment.