I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain-Chapter 351

"What the hell." Miguel barely clamped his mouth shut.

Ian’s appearance looked almost like that of a corrupted one. It even resembled the time when Lucia received a divine revelation—though that moment had been far more sacred.

In any case, it was thanks to that experience that Miguel didn’t panic and shout.

Since he’s a spellcaster, did the Black Wall ensnare him? But why now, of all times?

As if to calm himself, Miguel exhaled deeply and glanced back. Fortunately, the unsettling changes in the sky distracted everyone else from noticing Ian’s condition.

Quickly, Miguel reached out and tugged Ian’s hood down until it covered his eyes completely. Still, Ian remained motionless.

Why is that happening all of a sudden? Wait, no way.

Miguel swallowed dryly, his thoughts racing.

If that isn’t a seizure. Then could that be—

Before he could finish the thought, a deafening, bone-rattling sound erupted, reverberating across the landscape like a blaring war horn. The sound, like a deep horn, vibrated through him.

Miguel’s eyes darted forward, drawn to the Black Wall’s pulsating crimson ripples. His jaw fell slack.

So erosion has really begun.

Ian’s strange condition was undoubtedly linked to this, but that wasn’t the most pressing issue. The real problem was that they hadn’t reached Karlingion yet. The invasion was starting before they had even assembled their full forces.

"Brother, what do we do now? Huh? We’re doomed! Brother, please!" Miguel whispered frantically, trying to keep his voice low. However, Ian gave no response.

Miguel’s gaze wavered as his trembling eyes lingered on Ian’s unyielding form. Finally, he dragged a hand down his face, trying to steady his nerves. Moments like this called for calm, no matter what. Just as Ian always was.

I don’t know when, but he’ll definitely wake up. I’m sure of it. And when he does, the first thing he’ll do is….

His gaze turned to the troops behind him. Panic and unease were spreading like wildfire among the soldiers and priests. The Black Wall’s ominous wails and the never-fading crimson sky were enough to unnerve even the bravest of them. They’d soon look for orders, and that would mean Ian’s condition would be exposed.

Screw it! There’s no other choice.

Miguel clenched his one remaining fist and raised his voice.

"Entire formation—HALT! This is an order from the Commander! Drop any unnecessary baggage and form battle lines—immediately!"

Thankfully, the soldiers responded with a resounding battle cry instead of questions. They scrambled into action, hastily reorganizing their positions. Amidst the commotion, Kanto emerged from the group of priests, striding toward Ian.

"Hold it right there!" Miguel said, throwing out a hand to stop him. If anyone noticed Ian’s condition, it couldn’t be the priests.

Miguel continued, "Do not disturb him. The Great Warrior is currently receiving a revelation from Karha."

Kanto’s narrow eyes widened in realization. "So, this really is—"

"Yes, the invasion has begun. Now hurry and get the troops ready. We need to reach the front before it’s too late!"

"Understood, Deputy Commander." Kanto nodded sharply, then turned his horse to rejoin the column.

Miguel watched for a moment as the soldiers scrambled to prepare for battle. Then he turned forward again, feeling the tension in his face and jaw drain away for a brief instant.

God dammit. This is insane.

He exhaled a shaky breath, but there was no time to dwell. His gaze landed on Nila, Ian’s white steed, which had continued its steady pace.

"You’re said to understand people, right? Don’t stop, keep going. If anyone sees your master like this, we’re screwed. Got it?"

Nila glanced back at Miguel, snorted briefly, then turned its gaze away. It felt like it was telling him to worry about himself.

Well, we’ll manage somehow.

Miguel turned back toward the column. "Once you’re ready, form up and follow behind the vanguard!" he shouted.

Once again, the soldiers responded with a collective roar of affirmation.

***

BAROO—

The ashen wasteland stretched endlessly underfoot, caught between the Black Wall and the front lines. It was a no-man’s-land, commonly called the Land of Death.

Faint crimson shadows flickered like static across Ian’s unnaturally vivid vision. His surroundings were sharper, clearer, more expensive than normal.

Damn it. Now’s not the time to be stuck watching some cut scene.

Ian struggled to break free from the vision, but it was futile. The vision trapped Ian, preventing him from moving or escaping; he was forced to watch and endure.

Of all times, why now?

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

The phenomenon had overtaken him the moment the notification for quest completion appeared and vanished. The quest hadn’t failed, which meant the army had successfully entered the Valley of Despair. The quest’s objective—reaching the front lines before the invasion began—had barely been met.

What is the legion doing right now? They should be ready to fight immediately.

As Ian thought, his gaze shifted to the side. He realized the Black Wall was much closer than he’d initially realized.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it up close, but this was the first time he’d seen it in this state. Instead of its usual texture—resembling dried, hardened tar—it now roiled with a dark crimson, as if boiling from within.

It wasn’t surging upward into the sky as he’d seen before. Instead, it oozed downward like viscous molten lava, creeping along at a sluggish pace. Wherever it touched, the oozing substance consumed the cracked and barren ground beneath it, inch by inch.

So this is erosion.

However, that wasn’t all. Bubbles seemed to rise and pop across its surface, creating an unsettling churn. Then, shapes emerged—pitch-black figures, walking through the wall.

Squelch, squelch.

Each one was unique in size and shape, grotesque beyond description. These were horrifying beings, their shapes twisted and unrecognizable. One thing they all had in common was their entirely black bodies and the crimson glow flickering ominously in their eyes.

Is that a troll? Those all look like beasts. What is that walking on two legs?

Perhaps it was once human or fairy, but there was no way to know. In truth, it didn’t matter.

Instead, Ian decided to firmly grasp the situation on the battlefield and carefully observed the creatures.

The majority were beasts—creatures that seemed to be grotesque mutations of wolves or bears. Among them, enormous figures emerged, resembling ogres or cyclopes clad in armor. These beings, entirely blackened like the rest, bore horrific appearances as though their armor and weapons had fused into their skin, a grotesque combination of steel and flesh.

"Scr—eeeach!"

"Groooargh!"

The creatures that leaped out beyond the Black Wall each howled before even taking on a few steps. Every time, the crimson-black afterimages that flickered in his vision deepened, and simultaneously, their chaotic thoughts reverberated through his mind—rage and pain, and endless instinct for destruction and madness. Amid that chaos, there was also someone observing their consciousness.

Are they being controlled?

At that moment, Ian’s vision zoomed out as if pulling away. A shadow of wings fluttered at the edge of his sight, and the altitude increased. Only then did Ian realize that birds of prey—eagles or hawks—were flying at a similar altitude around him. Their eyes glowed with shades of violet, magenta, or deep green as they circled in the air.

Ian’s consciousness seemed to be linked to one of them.

They’re all void creatures, aren’t they? Why am I here?

Even as he sighed inwardly, his gaze instinctively turned downward. As his view expanded, the full scope of the beasts and monsters pouring out of the Black Wall came into sight.

I knew there’d be a lot, but this is ridiculous.

The Black Wall was still vomiting monsters. Its output of monsters was dozens of times faster than the speed of its erosion.

The erosion was supposed to last a long time. Does that mean they’ll keep pouring out like this the entire time?

He wondered if the game had been like this as well, though there was no way to verify it. Surely, it couldn’t have been much different. However, the events likely unfolded over a shorter time in the game than they were now. This led to another question: was this happening across all fronts?

It can’t be like this everywhere. It must be luck of the draw.

That explained why defending every front was so challenging. Some areas may see minor monster incursions easily handled by troops, while others could face overwhelming numbers. However, there was no way to predict it in advance.

Of course, Ian had already expected that Karlingion would be the latter. There was no way a quest would guide him to an insignificant battlefield.

Ding—Ding—Ding—

From the rear, bells echoed, and Ian’s gaze suddenly fixed on a corner of the Black Wall. It was a wide section of the wall, bubbling ominously. Around it, there were noticeably fewer monsters and beasts. Even the ones consumed by madness seemed to leave that area conspicuously vacant.

Squish. Squish.

A massive, jet-black winged beast, grotesquely mutated, emerged shortly after. It wasn’t hard to deduce that it was a mutated griffin. However, Ian’s attention was drawn more to the being riding on its back, though the term riding was hardly accurate. The lower half of the figure, shrouded in a pressed-down hood, had fused entirely with the griffin.

That’s... didn’t Thesa end up in a state like that once?

As the griffin trudged forward without a roar, its drooping hood revealed a pair of glowing purple eyes.

Fsshhh—

The glow shifted to red, then back to purple, flickering dangerously, viciously. The creature raised its head, and Ian’s vision was instantly filled with crimson-black afterimages, like static noise flickering before his eyes.

—■... here to ■!... For the ■glory of the great ar...■!

Like a broken radio, fragmented, incomprehensible thoughts tore through his mind. A grotesquely twisted, unrecognizable face appeared beneath the hood.

Even the demons aren’t free from the influence of the Black Wall, huh?

Beings reborn entirely anew through the power of the void or chaos were commonly referred to as demons. Yet, it was clear they couldn’t endlessly absorb the madness and chaos. If they exceeded their limit, they, too, seemed to lose their minds.

With its savage gaze flickering violently, the creature raised both arms outward. One hand gripped something resembling a magic wand.

Zap— Crackle—

From the Black Wall behind, streaks of crimson lightning sparked and struck the creature’s back. The demon neither mutated nor burned away. It merely spewed out an intense burst of light from its eyes, scattering chaotic thoughts and spells in all directions, as if it had lost its mind.

—■■ey...are a■■… ■■d■■...!

At that moment, Ian’s vision shifted skyward. A vortex of dark crimson, flickering with faint streaks of violet magic, formed above the creature, whose arms remained raised.

Boom, rumble!

It was impossible to tell what exactly it was, but one thing was certain—once it was complete, the outcome would not be favorable.

"Screee— Screech!"

"Roooaaaar!"

At that moment, the swarm of monsters gathered suddenly charged forward. There was no need to ponder where they were heading.

Whoosh—

Just then, the perspective shifted rapidly, as if trying to pull away from the source of the ritual. At last, the view expanded to reveal what lay beyond the Black Wall: a steep, narrow canyon divided by a grayish-white barrier.

Dang— Dang—

This was the origin of the sound of bells. To be more precise, the sound was coming from a fortress perched precariously on a cliff ridge behind the barrier.

They too built a barrier to block the path and placed the fortress halfway up the cliff here.

It was likely designed to ensure that even if the barrier fell, the fortress could still be defended. The structure’s layout also made it convenient to transport supplies directly onto the barrier, as one end of the barrier was connected to the fortress’s side.

Soldiers quickly moved military supplies across the barrier. Large cannons lined the wall in neat rows, and soldiers armed with crossbows and spears emerged from the passageways. Knights, who appeared to be commanders, were also visible, each stationed at different points—likely to oversee divided sections.

And not a single one of them looked pleased—understandably so.

The promised reinforcements still haven’t arrived. Not even the commander. Damn it.

It felt like his insides were burning, but there was nothing he could do for now. All he could manage was to try to grasp the situation as clearly as possible.

From behind the regularly spaced ballistas on the walls, red-cloaked mages appeared. There were only four of them, ‌but the crimson glow under their hoods was already vivid. The magic particles swirling around them shimmered with an oddly intense clarity.

Has the concentration of magic increased?

Perhaps this, too, was a side effect of the erosion. There was no way the magic spilling out from the Black Wall could be normal, but it was almost a stroke of luck at that moment.

"We will hold this line!" A thunderous voice rang out just then.

On the front spire of the fortress rising above the cliff, a middle-aged knight with a furrowed brow stood with his sword raised high. Beside him was a soldier holding a signal horn. That man seemed to be the acting commander.

"We will never retreat! Fight as if prepared to die! Open fire!" The moment he brought his raised sword down, the soldier beside him eagerly blew the horn.

As the middle-aged knight muttered a low curse, a massive arc soared into the sky from behind the fortress walls with a resounding crash.

Boom!

With a deafening roar, a massive parabolic soared into the air from behind the fortress walls. There were several catapults positioned behind the walls. The enormous trajectory split into dozens of smaller paths midair, scattering like buckshot. They had likely launched a payload of small stones bundled together.

Whoosh!

Sharp, piercing cries cut through the air as shards of debris rained down indiscriminately, some even streaking toward Ian.

For a fleeting moment, he wished one of those jagged stones would strike him, ending this endless hallucination.

Swoosh—

But against his hope, he quickly shifted his direction. The falling rocks crashed down behind him like a meteor shower.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Explosions of dust and debris erupted amid the monster horde, their chaotic stampede momentarily interrupted. Many were crushed, but it barely seemed to matter.

"Open fire!"

"Open fire!"

On the city wall, commanders swung their swords, issuing orders. Soldiers holding massive crossbows aimed at the advancing monsters.

"Shoot!"

Ian briefly caught sight of the soldiers’ strained faces as they braced their weapons. Nearby, mages with glowing crimson eyes prepared spells, their expressions tense and unnerving.

"Fire! Stay calm and shoot!"

The face of the commander standing at the edge of the fortress wall was unexpectedly familiar. It was Lucas Lamfield, a man who had previously assisted Ian in the North on multiple occasions.

The crimson shadows at the edges of his vision darkened further, and Lucas’s face loomed closer. Ian realized he was trying to pierce through Lucas’s face.

Lucas’s gaze met his. His face, now more seasoned than before, betrayed no trace of panic. Instead, he raised a pale sword, its blade sparking with orange embers.

A sword tempered with sacred fire, huh?

That thought echoed in Ian’s mind as the fiery blade filled his vision.

Crack!