I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Chapter 304

At that very moment, the clouds veiled the sun, making the pillar of light illuminating Philip stand out even more as if he were under a divine spotlight. Just as Ian’s gaze drifted skyward, a sudden stillness fell over the area.

The people who were having conversations, those entering and exiting the gate, even the guards—all froze in place. Their gazes fixated on the pillar of soft light descending onto the avenue, revealing a knight kneeling in its center. And before the knight, they blankly took in the man in uniform, standing still and gazing up at the sky.

"By the radiant light..."

Behind Ian, Seras, pulling her hood further over her head, kneeled down. As if on cue, Asme and Elia also collapsed to their knees, hands clasped together. They had realized that this light was a divine miracle, unconnected to any of Philip's intentions.

And indeed, it was. The light descended from a break in the clouds far off in the sky, coming from a direction unrelated to the sun's position. This wasn’t the eastern part of the city, after all.

Of course, it gives a blessing now, and not when Philip swore loyalty.

Ian mused with a wry smile, tugging one corner of his lips.

Then again, it had been the middle of the night back then, with heavy clouds overhead, hardly the ideal moment for a blessing. Still, for a miracle to happen right in the middle of the capital, and right in front of the papal states, was beyond anything he had expected.

"Praise the radiant light..."

"Oh, merciful light..."

The surrounding crowd, having fallen to their knees, began murmuring prayers. Their words drifted toward Ian, filling his ears with the soft hum of reverence.

Maybe it’s easier for the gods to bestow their blessings in a place like this...

Regardless, what had happened had already happened. Ian turned his gaze back to Philip, who remained perfectly still, his posture unwavering as he knelt with his sword pressed into the earth. It appeared he had slipped into a deep, meditative state, or perhaps he was receiving some new divine revelation.

Whatever the case, all Ian could do now was wait. Not that he’d need to wait long, as the clouds shifted, widening the break and dispersing the pillar of light into a more diffuse glow.

Whoosh—

The surrounding light rippled like a shimmering veil, then scattered into countless golden particles that fluttered in the air.

Amid the fading light, Philip finally let out a breath.

"Oh, Lu Solar..."

He lifted his head slightly, his posture still firm but now illuminated by the faint, glowing specks floating around him. The light that had once focused on him now enveloped his sword, creating a soft, radiant aura that still lingered.

Slowly, Philip retrieved his blade and removed his right gauntlet, revealing his hand.

"... It seems the Radiant Goddess has acknowledged and blessed my vow. Part of my sacred mark has been woven into the pledge and flowed into this."

The light in his hand grew clearer. The source of the glow was a ring on his finger—Saint Damiel's Ring, a holy relic.

"Perhaps the Goddess has chosen this ring as a symbol of my vow," Philip said, removing the ring and placing it in the palm of his hand, which he then held out to Ian.

"This now belongs to you, Master."

The ring, still glowing softly, rested in the center of his palm. Ian raised an eyebrow as he looked down at it before speaking.

"Are you sure about this? This is a priceless artifact, something you can't buy with money."

"Absolutely. I’m certain it will, in some way, help you call upon me again. Or perhaps it will aid me in finding you, Master."

... Who would’ve thought I’d be getting a parting gift from this guy one day,

Ian mused as he reached out and accepted the ring from Philip's hand.

"Thanks to this, parting ways feels a little less bitter."

Philip stood up at last, though the faint gleam in his eyes was still visible through the slits of his visor.

"With the Goddess’s blessing, no one will be able to stop me from returning to you. And that relic... it will serve you well."

"... Of course, it will."

This is a real holy relic, after all.

Ian slipped the ring onto the middle finger of his left hand. The light emanating from the ring gradually dimmed as if absorbing into him.

Philip, noticing Ian’s focus on the ring, chuckled softly. "You always know how to figure things out, Master. Take your time examining it. I’ll finish my farewells."

Philip took a step to the side, turning his gaze behind him. Ian, though still inspecting the ring, briefly smiled to himself.

This kid is finally learning how to read the room

.

Though Ian muttered this inwardly, his gaze never left the ring—or more precisely, the ring's information window.

So, it really absorbed part of his sacred mark...

A faint smile tugged at Ian’s lips. The ring was now bound to him. Just like Swamp’s Resentment, it meant that only Ian could now wield its power.

Moreover, the ring’s durability had doubled from what it originally was, and the amount of holy energy contained within it had also increased. Its original attributes, such as enhanced natural regeneration and resistance to certain status effects, had also improved.

Most importantly, a new skill had been added alongside the Blessing of Light and Barrier of Light—Call of Duty.

"—I’ll stop by the university after I’m finished, Elie. I’ll see you then."

"I’ll give you a tour of the capital when that time comes, Sir,"

"Then I’ll have to dress casually, so I don’t stand out."

Half-listening to their conversation, Ian continued studying the newly added skill. The description only extended to the fact that the ring's holy energy had to be fully charged for it to be activated, and using it would deplete all the sacred power within the ring to fulfill the Call of Duty.

Another skill with a cryptic description...

Ian snorted, as it didn’t surprise him. This skill had existed in the game, and as Philip had suggested, it likely had some interaction that would call him to Ian’s side when needed. It might have been one of those skills obtainable only through specific knight quests or events, perhaps unlocked by fulfilling certain conditions—just like the Blessing of Battle had been.

"... Once your ceremony is complete, carry on as usual. Someone I send will approach you first."

"Understood, Your Highness."

In the meantime, Philip and Seras were exchanging quiet farewells. Seras, with her hood pulled low, spoke in a hushed, quick tone, and Philip’s voice, too, was low and hurried, almost a whisper.

"Have him serve you as one of your aides. I’ll be able to meet you whenever necessary, so feel free to ask me anything."

"I understand. It’s been an honor to serve you, Your Highness. I look forward to seeing you again. Hopefully, with Asme as well."

Philip finally stood before Ian once more, exchanging a glance with Phaden along the way. Phaden simply gave a single nod, and that was all the farewell the two needed.

"Did you feel the mark of my sacred mark?" Philip whispered.

Ian nodded, meeting his gaze. "Yes, though I’m still not sure how it works."

"The Radiant Goddess will guide the way. Hearing that from you puts my mind at ease. I know we will meet again."

Philip slowly lowered his visor, revealing a smile—the kind that now belonged to a knight, no longer resembling the young squire he once was. Ian gave a light shrug.

"So don’t die, either here or at Mev’s side. Not until I call for you again."

Philip’s smile deepened. "As you command... although I feel that’s something I should ask you instead. Please take care of yourself, so I won’t have to become a wandering knight again."

His gaze was sincere. It made sense—Philip likely didn’t see much difference between Ian and Mev. Both constantly sought the most dangerous places, as if they were chasing death.

... I'd like that too, but..., Ian mused inwardly with a dry smirk as he averted his gaze.

"For now, I’d be more worried about getting exposed before we even reach the palace. Thanks to your attention-seeking Goddess, we’ve drawn far too many eyes," Ian remarked dryly.

Philip glanced around and murmured, "I’ve never heard her described that way, but... I understand exactly what you mean."

The fading glow of light was still attracting stares from some citizens who had risen to their feet, many with hands still clasped to their chests. Among those still kneeling, a few were even wiping away tears.

Philip’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he turned back to Ian. "Given the situation, I’ll take care of the rest. Use this moment to slip away."

Raising his visor once more, Philip added, "Oh, and please take care of Nila. It’s a clever one and will serve you well for a long time."

Ian blinked, then spoke, "That horse's name was Nila...?"

Philip, looking a bit surprised, responded, "You only realized that now?"

Chuckling softly, Philip walked away, his voice barely audible as he began reciting a low prayer—a prayer of loyalty and sacrifice.

Whoosh...

A few steps in, a soft glow emanated from his body. The fading light from earlier seemed to react to his divine power, sparking once more and scattering in the air, forming iridescent halos around him.

"Oh... O Radiant Apostle..."

"Such nobility... such grace..."

Murmurs of awe swept through the crowd as they parted like waves, creating a clear path for Philip. Ian couldn’t help but let out another dry laugh.

Ian couldn’t help but smile faintly, shaking his head in disbelief.

He said he just wanted a quiet ceremony and to leave unnoticed...

Given the grand spectacle unfolding, Ian could already picture how much attention Philip would draw in the coming days. By the time he set foot in the Great Church, the entire papal states would likely buzz with rumors.

"... We should get going now," Elia whispered as she hurriedly walked, glancing back at Ian and Seras.

"We can’t let Sir Philip’s sacrifice be in vain."

As Phaden quickly climbed onto the coachman’s seat, Seras and Asme also hastened their steps. Following behind them toward the carriage, Ian took one last look at the retreating figure of the paladin, surrounded by the light and reverence of the crowd.

"That kid..."

It suits him, Ian thought with a brief smile before stepping into the carriage without hesitation. The moment he closed the door, the carriage set off again, leaving behind the paladin and the group of onlookers.

***

Clip-clop. Clip-clop.

The carriage passed through the narrow, web-like alleyways and eventually slowed down as it entered the main avenue again.

It was now on the road leading north through the capital, heading toward the Hillisen River, which cut diagonally across the city.

"... As I mentioned before, even if you only take one bag, make sure you transfer the food packs from the other bags and take them with you," Elia continued, her voice persistent.

Partly because they kept the windows shut, those inside the carriage couldn't see any of this.

"If you only bring one, you won’t last more than a week, even if you’re eating alone."

Elia stood in front of Ian, not stopping her stream of talking. She had seemingly forgotten all about their farewell with Philip the moment the carriage started moving. It made sense, though. For her, there wasn’t much sadness in parting with Philip since they could easily meet again while he stayed in the capital. Her focus was now on Ian, knowing they might not see each other for a while.

I'll come back to the capital once things settle down...

But there was no way Elia could know his thoughts. And, of course, he had no intention of telling her. Plans could always change, after all.

"If you don’t get a chance to meet His Majesty today, hang your clothes properly to avoid wrinkles. While the fabric doesn’t wrinkle easily, the cuffs and collar show creases more," Elia continued, adjusting Ian’s sleeve as she spoke.

Ian quietly watched her as she fussed over him. It had been a long time since someone had looked after him so meticulously, almost naggingly.

"Before you meet His Majesty, make sure to button all your sleeves and stiffen your collar so it fits snugly around your neck."

"... Alright."

While his friends had always supported him in their ways, in matters like these, Ian usually had to take care of himself. Despite the relatively short time they had spent together, Elia’s gaze and actions were filled with concern and worry as she tended to Ian, knowing their parting was near.

"Even if it feels uncomfortable, don’t unbutton anything. It’s considered disrespectful."

"Got it. I’ll keep that in mind."

Seras, who had been watching Ian obediently endure the dwarf nagging with growing amusement, finally spoke up in a casual tone.

"Don’t worry, young lady. Before we meet my father, I’ll have Asme help Sir Ian freshen up."

"Really? You’d do that for him, Your Highness?" Elia asked, her face lighting up.

Asme gave a gentle nod and smiled, while Seras continued, "Don’t worry too much. Sir Ian has a naturally noble appearance, after all. There's even an exotic charm to him."

She glanced over Ian thoughtfully before adding with a grin.

"If he just tidied up his hair a bit, even the royals would think he's the heir of a noble family rather than an Agent of the Saint."

"Oh. I knew I had forgotten something. I didn’t tidy up your hair. I should’ve brought the scissors out last night," Elia sighed.

Do you actually carry scissors with you?

Ian couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

His uneven hair, of course, was his own doing. He often cut it himself when bathing. While many men in this world wore their hair long, Ian preferred to keep his hair short. That he couldn't bathe properly was reason enough to maintain a short haircut. As a result, his black hair was always uneven or messy.

"This won’t do. Sit down for a moment. Let me smooth it out with some oil," Elia insisted.

"... Is that really necessary?"

"It is. You're going to meet His Majesty, after all. It’s going to be recorded in history."

"I think finishing your own preparations should be a priority instead...." Ian sighed deeply but eventually complied, sitting down on the floor.

Elia, having removed her shoes, stepped up onto a chair and took a small vial of fragrant oil from her bag.

"Just look straight ahead."

Ian exhaled through his nose, directing his gaze forward, while Elia began working the oil into his untidy hair.

Seras, watching the scene as though it were an amusing spectacle, suddenly added, "I've noticed this for a while now, but you two don’t seem like an ordinary client and mercenary."

Elia’s hands froze mid-motion as she kneaded Ian's hair. Seras shot her a knowing glance, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"If anything, you seem much closer."

"I... I don’t know what to say about that, Your Highness," Elia stammered, her tone awkward and formal as if she were reciting from a book. "There’s an unspoken rule that mercenaries must keep their client’s identity and business confidential—"

"We are much closer," Ian interrupted.

Elia froze again as Ian glanced up at Seras and added, "Elia is practically my goddaughter."