I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

Chapter 192

"That’s right."

Philip squeezed his eyes shut at Ian’s response.

"Oh, Lu Solar… why...? Why are we going there? What if we catch something?"

"I won’t get sick. You have a holy relic, so you won’t either."

"Wait... Did you bring me specifically for that reason?"

"In part."

"And what if both of us get sick?"

Charging fearlessly into monsters and demons alike, yet trembling at the thought of an endemic disease.

Thinking that one’s true nature never really disappears no matter how much it dulls, Ian turned to look at Philip.

"Proof...? Proof of what?"

"What else?"

That the disease spreading was not just an ordinary epidemic.

Ian kept that thought to himself as he continued walking.

Philip, furrowing his brow, called out, "Lord, why don’t you finish your—"

"Just follow me. We’ll know for sure once we see it." Ian walked on without looking back.

Philip sighed deeply, covering his nose and mouth with a handkerchief as he followed.

***

As Obell had mentioned, behind the city walls were several shacks built a little distance from the serfs’ dwellings. Although torches were lit outside, there wasn’t a single person around.

"...."

Ian went from house to house, checking the condition inside each one. The first few houses were empty. After that, one or two sick people were lying inside. Most of them sprawled on makeshift beds or on the floor. The lack of sanitary conditions was hardly surprising.

Philip, his face half-covered like a bandit, watched Ian curiously but said nothing. He likely believed that speaking would cause him to catch the disease. Ian didn’t bother to tell him that a piece of cloth over his face wouldn’t help at all. At least it kept Philip quiet.

"....?" Ian’s brow furrowed when he opened the door to a house deeper in. The stench was so bad that Philip nearly gagged. But Ian’s concern was for a different reason. His eyes glowed faintly as he scanned the room, using Magic Detection. His senses heightened, and his Intuition sharpened.

"As I thought...." Ian murmured softly.

The faint traces of tainted magic were becoming clearer. It was a sign of dark magic or a curse. Ian motioned for Philip to come inside and approached two sick people lying side by side. Their breathing was weak, as if it could stop at any moment. Ian pulled one patient, who was lying on their side, to lie flat.

"Ugh...."

The reaction was instinctive; the patient seemed to be unconscious. Ian’s expression grew serious as he examined their condition. The skin was peeling like tree bark, turning black at the edges. Boils had formed between those cracks, and their half-open eyes were clouded white.

... It’s exactly the same.

Images of Racliffe from the game flashed through Ian’s mind. Ian’s mind flashed images of Racliffe from the game, a city known for corruption and plague, where minions spreading decay and disease roamed freely.

Not only Racliffe, but the entire west had been overrun by revived undead and monsters, with the land itself rotting away. Even the nearby sea was affected. The only intelligent beings were the corrupted ones who had exchanged their lives for immense power and immortality, turning into horrifying figures.

Ian had barely managed to clear Racliffe’s boss and leave the west because the entire region had become a deathly land that drained health merely by walking through it.

I didn’t have enough resistance to poison and disease to withstand it then.

It seemed the source of all that chaos wasn’t the boss he had killed back then.

"Oh, Lu Solar..." Philip murmured in despair, unable to tear his gaze away from the sick person.

Only when Ian gestured did he snap back to reality and close the door.

Ian added, "Come here and use your holy power."

Philip didn’t ask why. He simply approached with a somber expression and placed his hand over the sick person’s body. A gentle light radiated from his palm, descending into the patient.

"Ugh... Ugggh...." The patient’s pained groans followed immediately. Veins bulged beneath the peeling skin, and the boils writhed as if they were about to burst.

"...!" Philip’s eyes widened.

While holy power did aid in healing, it rarely produced such visible changes. This seemed less like healing a disease and more like purging a curse. Or perhaps the patient was dying from the holy power.

"What in the world..." Philip whispered, looking to Ian for an explanation.

Ian shrugged. "It is what it looks like."

"So this is... really...." Philip’s dazed eyes scanned the groaning patient’s body.

The areas where the holy power had concentrated were sizzling and burning. It signified that the condition was beyond saving.

"...!" Ian’s gaze shifted to the door.

Philip clenched his fist, snuffing out the light. Exchanging glances, Ian and Philip moved silently to hide in the shadows away from the window.

"Ugh... Ugh...." Only the patient’s groans filled the room as footsteps approached.

Philip drew a dagger silently while Ian gripped the hilt of his meteoric dagger.

"Oh... Oh my...!"

"What kind of gigantic monster is that?!"

"Long live Lord Westwood!"

Cheers, whistles, and loud shouts echoed from beyond the city wall. The approaching footsteps halted, then retreated quickly.

What a good timing.

Ian released his grip on the dagger. There was no need to pursue the footsteps. Even if it was someone associated with the corrupted ones, dealing with them now would cause more harm than good unless they were a key figure.

Indeed, they knew too little yet. Until they gathered all the necessary information, it was better if that person didn’t realize they were being investigated.

Until we accomplish our mission, we will not be leaving, anyway.

Ian turned from the patients and headed to the next house. Philip, having whispered a brief prayer for the sick, followed silently. Ian checked the interiors of the next few houses without entering. All were in a similar condition to the previous ones.

"...." Ian entered a house when there were only four left.

The stench of death was unmistakable. He approached a patient lying inside. Kneeling beside the patient, he examined their condition. The patient was completely bald, their emaciated body darkened and covered in hand-sized boils that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.

Ian could sense the tainted magic within the boils more clearly. It seemed the magic had grown stronger by feeding on the patient’s life force.

At that moment, a quest window appeared before Ian.

[Source of the Plague.]

As he read the quest description and removed the glove from his right hand, Philip muttered softly, "I can’t understand this... These people must have families. If they knew their loved ones were in this condition... they wouldn’t be so peaceful...."

Ian extended his bare hand over the patient and replied, "They probably think they were sent to Tessen. The initial symptoms resemble leprosy."

"Such..."

Philip sighed as Ian’s black ring slid off his middle finger and transformed into a snake. It was the Swamp’s Resentment. The creature, which had once resisted Ian, now had almost no consciousness left. After prolonged exposure to countless battles and various forms of holy power, it had become more of a puppet controlled by Ian’s will.

Consume what you can.

As if understanding Ian’s thought, the snake slithered down his fingers and onto the patient’s body. The Swamp’s Resentment sank its fangs into a boil and wriggled.

"... Lord, how did you know?" Philip suddenly asked.

Ian responded without looking back. "Know what?"

"That something like this was happening."

I knew you’d ask.

Ian smirked dryly and answered, "Just a hunch."

"... Could you be a bit more detailed?"

"It was just a suspicion. Lord Westwood mentioned that the disease appeared earlier than usual. As you know, there’s a corrupted one in Tessen, and the West is engulfed in darkness. I came to check it out."

"So your hunch turned out to be correct."

"Exactly."

"Good grief... Now I understand why you didn’t want to warn Lord Westwood or the Count. You didn’t trust them. Despite seeing this prosperity, you didn’t let your guard down. As expected of you, my lord...."

"I just didn’t want to deal with the hassle. Don’t read too much into it." Ian snorted and extended his hand.

The Swamp’s Resentment released the boil and sprang back to Ian’s hand like a spring. Its body swelled up as if it had swallowed a quail’s egg. As the creature struggled to wrap around Ian’s fingers, Ian stood up and turned around.

"Where are you going now?"

"Say a prayer for them. You’re the only follower of Lu Solar here." Ian said as he walked out.

Philip kneeled down without hesitation, removing the cloth that had covered his face. He closed his eyes and recited a prayer. After finishing the prayer, Philip looked down at the patient and stood up.

"... I will surely avenge you." He whispered in a somber voice and exited the house.

He saw Ian standing still, gazing into the darkness. Philip turned to look in the same direction—the shadowy city walls.

"What are you looking at?"

"…If you’re done, let’s head back," said Ian.

Ian turned away as he added, "The basilisk has probably arrived by now. Staying out too late might look suspicious."

***

The streets of the city were bustling with residents. The townspeople seemed completely unaware of the events outside the city, all wearing expressions of high spirits. They were noisily chattering about all sorts of exaggerated stories concerning the six-legged giant lizard.

The subject of all the talk, the basilisk, was lying in the middle of the Count’s manor. Soldiers, servants, and maids were busy watching the enormous creature’s carcass.

"Oh, Sir Ivan! Finally, you’re here! Where have you been?" Obell, who had been laughing with the soldiers, approached Ian as soon as he saw him.

Seeing Ian’s indifferent gaze, he added with a wide grin, "I went up to the guesthouse and found you weren’t there, so I came down to wait. We were having a drink and chatting about that beast. Care for a drink, too?"

Ian, who had been quietly observing, finally allowed a small smile as he glanced at the basilisk.

"You moved this massive thing quickly."

"Everyone here is used to moving heavy loads. So, what do you plan to do with it?"

Obell raised a wooden mug, gesturing toward the basilisk. The liquid sloshing inside was undoubtedly beer.

"What do you have in mind?"

"I’d like to buy it whole, if possible. If you agree, we’ll leave it out for a few more hours for everyone to see, and then start the disassembly. Even my father came to look."

"As long as the price is right, I don’t see why not."

"How about five gold coins? Imperial gold, of course."

Ian chuckled briefly at the immediate offer. "Even with transportation costs included, that’s quite the lowball."

"Ah, you got me. Hahaha. It’s a habit to haggle."

Obell laughed heartily and then added, "How about eight coins?"

Ian guessed he was prepared to go up to ten.

Instead of playing along, Ian shrugged and said, "If you accept one condition, I’ll agree to that price."

"What condition?"

"When you disassemble it, there might be an essence bead. Hand that over to us. Our lord has a use for it."

"Hmm… I’ve heard that essence beads from such a creature can fetch quite a price…"

Obell scratched his chin before shrugging. "Fair enough. The hide, blood, horns, and teeth are worth the eight gold coins alone."

He then extended his hand to Ian and added, "I swear by the Radiant Goddess, if we find an essence bead, it’ll be yours. Shall we seal the deal?"

"Let’s."

Whether that oath held any actual weight remained to be seen, Ian thought as he shook Obell’s hand.