I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

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Philip’s gaze turned naturally to Ian, who was facing him.

Ian’s brow tightened slightly.

“Are you really asking because you don’t know?”

“What do you mean by not knowing?”

Looking at Philip, who was asking back, Ian realized that he had never really explained in detail about the dark mage.

With a cold tongue, he said, “This dark mage claimed to be a regiment mage.”

“A regiment… mage?”

“Regimental magic involves manipulating corpses and specters.”

“….”

Philip’s mouth hung open.

It was a face that hadn’t even considered the diversity of black magic.

He had only thought of it vaguely as wicked and dreadful spells.

Miguel, who had become nearly lost in thought, barely managed to seal his lips.

“So, you’re saying he revives the dead and controls specters?”

“Probably. But that’s probably not all.”

“It can’t be true… Would someone with that incredible power just hide? They could have overturned kingdoms several times.”

“There’s probably a reason they can’t.”

Ian shrugged his shoulders roughly.

He had an idea, but he didn’t care.

That ambition of his would come to an end today.

“So, instead of pointless thoughts…”

As Ian added that, he suddenly stopped.

For a moment, his eyebrows slightly narrowed.

“Right. It’s finally here.”

He smiled strangely, and as he turned to face the darkness, he said.

“Well, what, what is it?”

Seeing that appearance, Philip felt a sense of unease instead.

“Actually, the dark mage knew we were coming for a while now.”

“Really?!”

“But it was so quiet, I was starting to get suspicious.”

Ian’s smile deepened.

“Just as I thought. Being defenseless up to here doesn’t make sense.”

Before he could finish speaking, a faint light began to shine beyond the darkness.

Philip and Miguel’s eyes widened simultaneously.

Like blood coursing through veins, purple lines were being engraved densely on the ceiling and walls.

It was a collection of endless characters and symbols.

Philip, realizing that it was an assembly of ancient language, was struck dumbly.

“Ancient language…?”

“It’s a spell circuit. The magic apparatus in the graveyard is starting to function.”

“It doesn’t look very… Much like fairies spell?”

“Would the spells that fell into the hands of a dark mage be intact?”

“Right.”

In the game, the magic apparatus started operating around the middle of the dungeon, which was also the point when the true nature of the underground grave was revealed.

If it was the same as in the game, what would start first…?

Creak—

A roaring sound echoed from behind, and Miguel jumped up in surprise.

“Ah?! No, no way, this is crazy…?”

His eyes grew bloodshot as he turned around.

A massive stone wall was rising before the stairs.

The ancient language suddenly appeared on a section of the wall that completely blocked the entrance, glowing with a deep crimson light as if to prove the corruption of the ruins.

“What in the world…?”

Miguel muttered, his voice trembling.

Ian turned to face the darkness, not even looking at the stone wall. He was gazing intently into the darkness.

Thump, thud – thud –

A faint noise followed.

Miguel also finally turned to face the same direction as Ian.

In the midst of the spell circuit, the passage through the darkness was still shrouded in darkness.

Thump – thud –

The strange noise was getting closer. The darkness was roiling like a boiling swarm of insects. Among the dozens of violet glows, living skeletons emerged.

Resurrected corpses through necromancy.

“….”

Miguel’s mouth hung open in stupor, and Philip froze belatedly.

Thump, thump – thud –

Like a dam bursting, the skeletons began to push and squeeze their way through the passage.

“You guys guard the corridor.”

Ian’s words shot out, and Miguel’s voice followed him as he propelled himself forward.

“Huh? Wait a minute! Brother! Are you trying to fight alone again?!”

Miguel’s voice echoed as he dashed after him.

And would you guys fight?

While muttering this to himself, Ian dashed across the hall, stepping on the fragments of statues along the way.

Swoosh –

The wind wrapped around him.

As his eyes with glimmers of magic took in the view ahead, Ian leaped.

Skeletons filled the hallway and continued endlessly beyond it. In between, he even saw the appearance of a ghoul.

‘This is fucking a lot.’

If you simply put it in numbers, it was the most since he awakened into this world.

And that wasn’t all.

As long as the limbs are working, almost all the resurrected corpses in the grave will be coming.

But Ian’s eyes didn’t show much danger.

‘The armament is shabby and it seems that there is no ego. I don’t deserve to survive if I’m only attacked by these things.’

The Catacombs have other dangers as well.

Ian, who entered the aisle as if gliding, slammed down the mace.

It was a story that didn’t really apply right now if you just blocked the road.

Phew!

The skeleton’s skull, unable to respond to the charge, was shattered.

The moment when the light in your eyes is shattered and the bones of your whole body are about to crumble.

Thump-

In an instant, a gust of wind billowed out from his position.

Among the debris of the rolling skulls, Ian emerged from his somersault, one knee on the ground, gripping his mace.

Shing! Clang!

The rolling heads exploded as they made contact with the floor.

While not as elegant as his swordplay, the way he swung his mace would probably break his sword after a few blows. But his mace remained unbroken, not even bending.

“Phew…”

After smashing the nearby skulls to pieces, Ian finally rose to his feet.

The undead that had been pushed away were now approaching again.

A hazy magical aura shimmered in Ian’s pupils as he stared at the approaching undead.

Swoosh –

In an instant, a gust of wind rushed forward, carried along by the mace’s handle.

Without resisting the flow, Ian clutched the handle with both hands and swung it forcefully.

Thunk-!

The charging undead slammed into the wall as if struck by a cannonball.

The debris of shattered bones and the pulpy flesh of the ghouls scattered in all directions.

Clutching the mace, Ian changed his grip and swung his arm in the opposite direction as well.

Thunkachang-!

The undead were once again slammed into the wall.

It was a scene like a massive hammer strike.

And it actually was.

The wind blade, which had been a sharp edge when he swung his sword, was now a fiercely rotating sphere on the end of his mace. That was what was causing this display of strength.

Once he confirmed its effectiveness, his response became much simpler.

Thunk-! Thunkachang-!

He repeated the action of waiting and swinging to repel the undead’s advances several times.

“….?”

The undeads suddenly stopped in their tracks.

Ian, whose eyes had slightly narrowed, raised one corner of his lips in a smirk.

He felt a stinging gaze among the undead.

A gaze mixed with hatred and anger.

It wasn’t necessary to think about whose gaze it was.

“Why didn’t you bring your artifact with you?”

Ian said casually. contemporary romance

He didn’t care whether the man believed him or not.

“Stay hidden like a mouse there and watch. I’ll pop your annoying little head for you.”

Would you be willing to fight alone?

Ian thought to himself as he passed through the hall. As long as he made the man angry, that was the goal.

The more logical and efficient the man’s decisions, the higher the likelihood that someone in their party might die.

Ian swung his mace as he muttered, the light from the spell circuit fluctuated.

The eyes of the skeletons burned.

“I’m really pissed off. Thank you.”

Ian smiled, showing fangs.

The undead rushed at him without a sound, like a beast charging.

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Happy Reading

Translator; ippo

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