I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 359

Could someone summon something like that, even at the cost of their life?

Ian’s mind was filled with questions.

Is it even possible for an ancient god to descend to a place that isn’t a demonic realm? And through such a narrow passage, no less?

The flood of doubts felt less like rational thought and more like an unconscious effort to cling to reason in the face of madness. Yet, amidst the chaos in his mind, one clear thought surfaced—Lucy, Miguel, and his legion.

Ian, captivated by the vortex's increasingly deep violet color, tore his gaze away. His Mental Fortitude and Resistance, honed to superhuman levels, allowed him to resist.

Anyone else would have already lost consciousness or gone mad, ensnared by the vortex’s pull. However, Ian focused his senses on the legion beyond the mist. Thankfully, he could still sense their presence. As of yet, they hadn't fainted or fallen unconscious.

The sacred flame's protective veil must still be in effect. That’s a relief.

The Blessing of Battle didn’t enhance Mental Fortitude or Resistance, so their survival was likely thanks to the sacred protection. That meant Lucy and the other priests were also likely safe—though Miguel might be an exception.

Either way, Ian needed to return to them and order a retreat immediately. Whatever was approaching now was something no legion, even one blessed by the god could face. However, Ian’s feet refused to move. The moment he took just one step forward, he felt a gaze pressing down from above.

The weight of the gaze crushed his entire body. Incomprehensible, ominous symbols and patterns crackling with violet noise overwhelmed his vision.

It felt like the world was flipping upside down. Unfathomable whispers clawed at his mind, and Ian realized his physical sensations had vanished entirely. An unstoppable madness enveloped his consciousness.

Thump... Thump...

It was a faint pulse that pulled him back from the brink. He recognized it immediately—it was the resonance of the fragment of chaos he carried.

The sinister noise that had been tearing through his mind faded under the pulse’s steady rhythm. Ian’s disintegrating awareness snapped back as though he’d woken abruptly from a nightmare.

Of course, that was only a feeling. The nightmare wasn’t over. It was ongoing, rooted firmly in reality.

Fuck.

Amid the static-filled vision, Ian saw primordial runes and the shapes of transcendent beings. He caught glimpses of the void and the cosmos, their forms too overwhelming to comprehend, flashing before him without pause.

Whispers, which he knew he must ignore, accompanied the sensation of endlessly falling.

Would the laws of this world really allow a being with such overwhelming power to cross over?

One of the countless questions that had stormed through his mind earlier resurfaced. And this time, his subconscious provided an immediate answer.

No, they wouldn’t.

The laws of this world wouldn’t allow such a transgression. Even if the entity forced its way in, bending the rules of reality, it could only manifest briefly. And even if it did fully descend, the celestial gods wouldn’t simply stand by and watch.

If that happens, they’ll intervene directly, not indirectly like before.

If this was an event that had existed in the game, Ian’s reasoning seemed plausible. After all, they weren’t even in Chapter Three yet.

It was far too early in the narrative to face a transcendent being. True, at the end of Chapter Three, there had been the battle against the Heaven Defier, but that had been a boss fight—one he had consciously chosen to engage in.

Outside of that, Ian had never encountered a direct confrontation with a transcendent entity. Not even once—not even until the point where the game’s story had come to an abrupt halt, leaving him unable to progress any further. Even the Corrupted Dragon had not been encountered until this world became a reality.

To begin with, Ian doubted whether the game developers ever intended to fully implement battles against ancient gods. Such beings would undoubtedly be unbeatable—just as no ant, no matter how strong, could ever defeat a human.

Through the chaotic noise that filled his mind, Ian suddenly felt a gaze pierce through. Before fear could even register, a whisper slipped past the resonance of the fragment, drilling into his consciousness.

It wasn’t language—it was a thought. Yet Ian immediately understood its meaning.

The entity was commanding him to submit. It wasn’t a demand but a condescending offer of mercy, as if serving it was the only path to survival. Amidst this, one thing stood out sharply—a system window. A choice quest window filled his vision.

[Servant of the Greedy Abyss.]

Completing the quest was as simple as accepting it. The rewards listed were a Seed of the Sunken Abyss and two mysterious question marks.

Seed of the Abyss?

It seemed connected to the fragment of chaos. Even as the thought crossed his mind, Ian rejected the quest without hesitation.

Perhaps accepting it would end this ordeal, but making such a pact was not a choice. Becoming the apostle of a celestial god was bad enough; aligning with a void deity was the worst possible choice.

As the prompt disappeared, the oppressive weight of the gaze bore down on him once again. Yet Ian didn’t lose consciousness this time. Perhaps it was because he had already teetered on the brink of losing it and found himself unable to fall further.

Now that I think about it, this gaze feels familiar somehow. Had I encountered it before?

As if reading his thoughts, the presence receded, its gaze withdrawing as if it had acknowledged his refusal. The sensation of falling vanished, replaced by the faint return of physical sensation.

Whoosh—

The whispering in his mind subsided, overtaken by the deafening roar of storm winds. This wasn’t an illusion. Ian could feel the crushing force of the wind bearing down on him, his body surrounded by the weight of terrible pressure.

The chaotic noise that had filled his vision faded, and Ian realized he was looking up at the sky once more.

What the hell...

The swirling, dark-red vortex above was spinning violently, the center boiling and bubbling as if it were alive.

Whooom—

Long, violet tendrils writhed out from the vortex’s edges, pulsating with a malevolent energy.

As Ian’s vision sharpened against his will, the details of the tendrils came into focus. Their surface was slick and gelatinous, almost oozing. These weren’t tendrils forcing their way through the violet veil—they were the veil itself, shaped into grotesque appendages. It was as though a monstrous entity was trying to force its way out of an amniotic sac.

The veil likely served as a medium for a formless entity to shape itself.

Is that like some kind of ectoplasm?

The thought was absurdly out of place, but Ian’s gaze remained fixed on the churning vortex, its writhing tendrils, and the eye-like center. Not that he had a choice—he couldn’t move his body at all. The overwhelming presence beyond the boiling veil still held him captive.

The Greedy Abyss—the ancient god of the void, its true name unknown, was still watching him.

Whoom—Crash!

The static clouding Ian’s vision pulsed in and out, blending with the whispers and the wind to form a chaotic symphony. Though the entity’s gaze continued to bind his body, Ian realized he had not lost his sanity.

So, it really can’t descend directly, huh?

Despite the primal fear gnawing at his senses, Ian found himself eerily calm. Even in the face of such overwhelming terror, his mind remained focused.

That clarity allowed him to notice two crucial things: the ancient god was failing to manifest beyond its current form, and the eye of the vortex was still shrinking, moment by moment.

This overwhelming display was, in some ways, the god’s desperate struggle.

Whoooom—

The writhing tendrils that swayed and coiled suddenly converged, folding together like the petals of a grotesque flower. The violet glow emanating from the tendrils intensified. At their center, a thick, viscous mass of energy condensed.

The lump expanded rapidly, its form chaotic and disturbing, resembling a malformed creature—or perhaps a concentrated embodiment of chaos itself.

Squirm—

A line appeared down the center of the mass, slicing vertically before opening wide. A single violet eye emerged. It moved, scanning the ground below as if seeing the world for the first time. The massive blob with its singular, unblinking eye and the encircling, spiked tendrils formed a hideously harmonious image.

That thing looks disgustingly ominous.

The only relieving thing was that the vortex's eye was closing fast. It had shrunk to a size Ian could easily cover with his hand. The roots of the tendrils around the eye’s edge were drawing closer and closer together.

The gaze fixed on Ian grew suddenly intense, as though pouring all its focus on him. It was a fleeting moment, just before the vortex’s eye was about to shut. Ian’s vision blurred, and his body went numb once more. Yet this wasn’t driven by hostility. The emotions radiating from the gaze were strangely devoid of malice—in fact, they felt almost the opposite.

Gurgle—

As the entity’s massive form loomed over the land, a thick, elongated arm suddenly jutted out of the central blob. Its texture resembled sticky, oozing clay, but solidified rapidly into a stable form. Below, long tendrils slithered outward like grotesque roots, coiling and writhing unnaturally.

Is it shaping its body based on the forms it sees around it?

At the moment the vortex’s eye was sealed shut, the tendrils finished transforming. The presence of the ancient god vanished abruptly, as though snuffed out. The tendrils surrounding the mass collapsed like punctured water balloons, splattering into violet droplets that scattered in all directions.

Whoooom—

Yet the crushing pressure and howling winds remained, their intensity unabated. The mass, now hovering in the air with tendrils spread wide, finally turned its gaze directly to Ian.

Another eye opened next to the first, swiveling toward him. For a moment, its gaze sharpened, and then its eye ridges curved slightly, almost mockingly. The fragment of chaos resonated with a thunderous pulse, sending vibrations through Ian’s entire body.

Before he could react, a quest window appeared before his eyes.

[Incomplete Avatar.]

Ian didn’t have time to check the quest details. The avatar spread its grotesque arms wide, its massive hands unfurling.

Whoosh—

The scattered violet droplets reversed course as if time itself had rewound, converging into glowing spheres around its hands. Within moments, dozens of violet spheres of varying sizes hovered ominously in the air.

The avatar’s gaze shifted past Ian, focusing on the space behind him. A thin line appeared beneath its eyes—a mouth. Its lips curled upward in a smirk, and then its extended right arm flicked its wrist with an almost casual motion.

Whoosh—

The dozen or so violet orbs that had been floating to the entity’s right shot out in sharp diagonal trajectories. There was no need to think too deeply about what awaited at their ends—the legion.

Fuck!

Ian, who had been struggling to move ever since the quest window appeared, finally opened his skill menu.

Boom, boom, boom!

The moment he reflexively maxed out the Primeval Resistance, a deafening explosion shook the air and the ground behind him. The shockwave sent Ian staggering. Blood vessels burst in his eyes as he struggled to even twitch his fingertips.

Swish!

Fixated on a point beyond him, the avatar surged forward like an arrow. What remained of the scattered orbs rained down upon Ian below, leaving no room to escape.

Swoosh—

Just as a faint Barrier of Light rose around him, Ian’s widened eyes filled with the onrushing violet glow.

***

Lucia’s eyes snapped open.

The rough texture of dirt pressed against her face. She realized she had blacked out for a moment.

"Cough—" She spat out blood with a hacking cough.

As she blinked, fragmented memories from just moments ago flashed through her mind: The storm winds tearing through the battlefield mist, the overwhelming presence that dominated everything, the tendrils writhing in the sky.

And at the center of it all—a sinister entity taking shape, raining down deadly beams like a meteor shower. Even the veil of sacred flame hadn’t been able to block the ensuing chain explosions completely.

"Miguel." Her fleeting recollections ended, and Lucia propped herself up with trembling arms.

Dizziness and tinnitus overwhelmed her, nearly sending her toppling again. The ringing in her ears refused to fade.

Just before the explosions and shockwaves broke through the veil, she had thrown herself over Miguel, pulling him down to shield him with her body.

Her current state was the price she paid for absorbing the brunt of the blast with her back. It had been her only choice. Miguel had lost consciousness, unable to withstand the presence emanating from beyond the vortex.

If not for the veil of sacred flame, he might not have survived at all. Even Lucia had felt her vision blur under its influence, the dizziness threatening to overtake her entirely.

"Oh, Lu Entre." Fighting back the dizziness, Lucia surveyed her surroundings, her breath catching in her throat.

Through the haze of dust, she saw the legionnaires sprawled across the ground, their faint red divine energy flickering weakly.

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Only a few were standing.

"----!"

The upright soldiers were shouting unintelligibly, their voices drowned out by the ringing in her ears as they dragged their fallen comrades to safety.

Many had broken limbs or crushed bodies. Those whose crimson divine energy had vanished entirely were dead. Overwhelmed by the void's presence, they had been too slow to react.

Even the protection of the sacred flame couldn’t fully neutralize the influence of such a transcendent being.

The sight was more than enough to weigh Lucia down with guilt. If only she had burned the sacred flame brighter, offered her blood as a sacrifice, and held out to the very end, fully prepared to die, perhaps things would have turned out differently.

Those thoughts vanished completely the moment her eyes took in the battered figure lying before her.

"M-Miguel. Miguel?" Staggering as she crawled forward, Lucia wrapped her arms around the motionless Miguel.

Though he was unconscious, he wasn’t dead; his breathing remained steady. She let out a brief sigh of relief—one that didn’t last long. Her eyes widened as she placed Miguel down and turned, her body immediately shielded by a flickering veil of sacred flame.

Shweeek—Boom!

The sound of something tearing through the air and the shockwave that followed came almost simultaneously. The sacred flame surrounding Lucia and Miguel wavered precariously under the force.

The shockwave threw back the legionnaires carrying the wounded. Through the ringing in her ears and her growing dizziness, Lucia turned her gaze toward the epicenter of the shockwave.

There, near overturned braziers and the bodies of dead horses, a massive creature was landing amidst the flames that had spilled from the broken brazier carts.

With its arrival, an overwhelming presence seemed to crush the surroundings. Its long, tendril-like legs sprawled grotesquely, supporting a torso that looked like a crude lump of sticky clay haphazardly shaped together. Two disproportionately large, thick arms extended from its sides.

Atop its grotesque frame, a bulbous mass jutted out like a tumor, writhing with unnatural motion. Unnatural violet eyes and a jagged, gaping mouth writhed and shifted across its surface.

Even amidst this grotesque motion, its gaze locked directly onto Lucia. The moment their eyes met, its lips curled upward into a twisted smile.

"Heh heh."

The sound of laughter pierced through the ringing in her ears, sharp and clear. Rows of serrated black teeth gleamed as its mouth stretched wide. At the same time, a surge of violet energy radiated from its entire body, flooding the air with its chaotic presence.