I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

Karha would certainly be capable of such behavior.

It might have been different if this had been before the Northerners recognized Ian. But now, it seemed just as likely that Karha was cheering for those daring to challenge his Great Warrior.

After all, the battle was essentially Karha’s very nature, and the deity was nothing if not an unpredictable and temperamental force.

One moment he’s my side, and the next, he’s not. Fucking...

Ian clicked his tongue inwardly and turned his gaze back to the present. There was still work to be done.

“Is there anyone who can take that guy’s place as a leader for now?”

The two warriors supporting Garson looked at each other hesitantly at his question. Finally, one of them awkwardly bowed his head and answered.

“There is... Great Warrior.”

His tone was slightly uneasy. Ian nodded slightly, signaling for him to fetch them, and the two warriors hurried off, bowing once more before leaving.

“Berkel! The Great Warrior is asking for you!”

The call brought an elderly man forward from the crowd. The same man had earlier ordered the villagers to step back.

Deep scars ran across his face, sinking his nose bridge and leaving one side of his mouth gaping enough to expose a fang-like tooth.

Reminds me of old man Urd.

As Ian thought this, the old man, limping slightly, approached and bowed respectfully.

“You called for me, Great Warrior.”

His voice was raspy as if he had swallowed metal, but his demeanor was formal and composed. Unlike the younger warriors, he didn’t seem uncomfortable around Ian.

Ian nodded and spoke. “How many villages like this one are there in the Nor Lindor region?”

“As far as I know, there are five. No one lives near the eastern wall, and each village has divided the area to avoid encroaching on one another.”

As expected.

Ian nodded. The northeastern snowfields of Nor Lindor were almost the exact opposite of the underground ruins Ian had explored in the past. The region’s survival during the undead legion’s advance was likely due to this isolation.

The eastern side of the mountain range curved upward, and the northern wall followed a similar curve eastward. With no inhabitants near the wall, Ian’s route would be significantly shorter.

“The only villages I know the locations of are Red Rock and White Valley. I’ll need a guide to lead me to the other two,” Ian added.

Berkel stroked his white beard thoughtfully. “There’s a suitable candidate. A young warrior named Ivaldi.”

“That’s good to hear. Do you have horses in the village?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Then we’ll trade them for ours. We’ll eat here, then leave immediately.”

“So soon, Great Warrior...?”

“There’s no time to waste. Surely you understand.”

Berkel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression growing serious. It was clear he understood Ian’s urgency, perhaps even more than he let on. The old man might have fought against the erosion himself in the past.

“I’ll have food and horses ready immediately. Ivaldi will come to meet you shortly,” Berkel replied, bowing deeply before turning to leave.

“Prepare a meal for the Great Warrior! Everyone, head back to your homes and start packing for the move! Ivaldi, Valka, come here!”

Berkel’s commanding shout echoed across the village, a stark contrast to his wiry frame. The villagers quickly sprang into action, bustling about in preparation.

Meanwhile, the warriors who had been lingering at the back finally approached Ian.

“You went easy on him, Great Warrior,” Volber said with a knowing smirk, clearly reminiscing. Back in the day, Ian hadn’t hesitated to throw a punch straight to the face.

“We’re short on hands right now,” Ian replied nonchalantly and turned to Bjorn.

“You’ll stay here and lead these villagers back.”

“What...? Oh, yes, Great Warrior,” Bjorn stammered, his expression briefly flickering with disappointment.

Ian could guess why. Bjorn had likely been looking forward to seeing Ian’s next fight.

The other warriors chuckled at his reaction while Ian added, “And we’ll be taking a guide from this village.”

“A guide?”

“Yes. Someone named Ivaldi. There are two more villages we didn’t know about. We’re visiting them all.”

“Two... That’s going to cut it close. No time for rest, then,” Volber said, scratching the bridge of his nose.

He and a few others were already well aware that there wasn’t much time left before the erosion. And there was still the settlement and Travelga to visit.

“Exactly. We’ll eat, then leave immediately. Get the new horses ready and transfer the gear onto them.”

Though the schedule might have warranted complaints, the Northern warriors merely nodded in understanding. Ian’s gaze shifted to two figures approaching from the distance—one was likely Ivaldi, the guide, and the other appeared to be a stable hand.

“Wait a moment...” Volber suddenly paused mid-thought. “... Are you planning to leave someone behind at each village we visit?”

“You’re finally thinking ahead. Good improvement,” Ian replied, gesturing toward Nila.

The expressions of the warriors, who had remained unfazed through the grueling journey, stiffened noticeably. Only Bjorn allowed a faint smile to creep across his face.

“What order will you choose?”

“Let’s see...”

“The weakest one!”

Before Ian could reply, Volber’s eyes lit up with mischief.

"Could we start by leaving the weakest behind, Great Warrior?"

At that, the warriors exchanged icy glares. Their expressions made it clear they wouldn’t hesitate to draw swords if that suggestion were taken seriously.

Chuckling, Ian began leading Nila forward. “Settle it with arm wrestling while I eat. Give the villagers a show. Whoever loses stays behind at the next village.”

“Arm wrestling...!”

“Then, do we decide again at the next village after that?”

Are they here for a mission or a vacation?

Ian frowned, turning back to glare at the warriors. They flinched and averted their gazes.

After a moment, Ian added, “We’ll see when we get there.”

With that, he walked off. The warriors, wide-eyed as they watched him leave, quickly turned their glares back on each other.

By the time Ian had finished his meal, the warriors had broken three tables. Thus began yet another series of duels that would continue in every village they visited over the next ten days.

***

Boom! Crack!

A fist slammed repeatedly into the face of a fallen warrior, driven by Ian’s unrelenting strikes. His knee pinned the warrior’s chest as his punches rained down. Each blow sent blood spraying and made the ground quake.

Ian froze as he raised his fist for a seventh strike.

The warrior’s eyes, once burning with intensity, had gone glassy and unfocused. The crimson divine energy that had engulfed his body now flickered weakly, like a candle about to be snuffed out.

Instead of delivering the final blow, Ian placed his palm on the warrior’s head and turned it to the side. Rising from his kneeling position, he removed his knee from the warrior’s chest and looked up.

"Phew..." A deep, ragged breath escaped Ian’s lips, forming a mist in the cold air. Snowflakes danced lazily as they fell, landing softly on his face.

He inhaled deeply, ignoring the undignified position he found himself in. At this moment, the burning ache in his chest mattered more than appearances.

Karha... you son of a...

The God of Battle had blessed every duel Ian took part in as he visited each village. However, that wasn’t the worst of it. With each new fight, Ian’s opponents received greater blessings, as if Karha were testing the limits of Ian’s abilities.

"Phew... Sigh..."

The peak of this escalation had been the Great Warrior of Red Rock Village, Alder, who now lay unconscious beneath Ian.

Under Karha’s Blessing of Battle, Alder had been stronger and faster than Ian. Had Ian not possessed a strong Mental Fortitude and experience fighting opponents stronger than himself, the fight might not have ended in his favor. His victory was due in no small part to his accumulated combat skills, honed through countless battles.

Maybe... that’s exactly what that bastard intended.

As the thought crossed Ian’s mind, he frowned slightly. It was a plausible conclusion. Karha wasn’t just being whimsical—it was as if the god was using these duels to re-evaluate whether Ian truly deserved the title of Great Warrior of the North.

I guess the fact that I’m originally a mage doesn’t matter to him in the slightest.

As if mocking his musings, a quest completion window materialized before him. The Northern Way quest was finally complete.

More strength, huh….

Seeing that the mystery reward was another strength point, Ian let out a wry smirk.

"Waaah! Wooooo!"

The square, once silent, erupted in cheers and shouts. Villagers and warriors who had been watching the fight let out roars of excitement. The spectacle of the two warriors locked in a bloody, crimson-tinged brawl had clearly ignited their spirits.

My ears…

Ian spat blood from his mouth and turned his gaze back to Alder. The warrior lay motionless, blood dripping from his face, mingled with several broken teeth. His nose was shattered, and Ian suspected fractures in his arms or legs as well.

I can’t just leave him like this.

Ian snorted softly and spat out the blood clogging one of his nostrils. Removing the necklace from around his neck, he placed it on Alder. The necklace, imbued with Della Lu’s Grace, would at least speed up his recovery for a few hours. Ian had been repeating this action since the third village.

As he stood up, a shadow loomed over him.

"That was a magnificent battle, Great Warrior," came a voice from above.

Amid the cheers, a middle-aged warrior approached Ian, extending his left hand as if to support him. The man appeared to be in his late fifties—relatively young compared to the other elders Ian had seen. His body seemed sturdy, but his right hand ended at the wrist.

Among the elders Ian had encountered, few were unscathed. Even Kvassar, who appeared more intact than most, was missing several fingers and toes.

Noticing Ian’s gaze, the man quickly bowed his head.

“I am Aiba. I oversee some of the smaller affairs of the village.”

Ian waved his hand lightly to decline the offered help and gestured toward the warrior lying on the ground.

“Make sure he’s treated well. And as promised, start preparing for relocation.”

“Of course. In fact, we’ll be ready to leave within a day.”

Aiba’s immediate response made Ian’s brow furrow slightly.

“You can be ready in just one day?”

“A warrior from Black Forest Hill Village visited us recently. He said the Great Warrior would come soon and advised us to prepare to leave. He told us that, win or lose, following the Great Warrior was the right thing to do for the North.”

“I see...” A faint smile played on Ian’s lips. He had traveled to Nor Lindor on a counter-clockwise path, and Red Rock Village, the last stop, wasn’t far from Black Forest Hill Village.

It seemed Bjorn had planned, knowing their route. Perhaps it was his way of saving time. Or maybe the warriors from Black Forest Hill Village had taken the initiative themselves.

“No wonder the village felt so empty,” Ian muttered, recalling the desolate state of the settlement.

Aiba let out a hearty laugh and added, “Then, would you allow us to accompany you tomorrow, Great Warrior? If you’re with us, the villagers will hasten their preparations.”

“I plan to leave early tomorrow morning. Will that work?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“Thank you, Great Warrior. I’ll have meals prepared immediately.”

Bowing once more, Aiba turned and walked off, and the villagers sprang into action as always.

Clip, clop.

Behind Ian, Volber, and Ivaldi, the guide, approached skillfully. The two had emerged as the final winners of the nightly arm-wrestling matches during the tour.

“This is the worst I’ve seen your face, Great Warrior,” Volber said with a proud smile, despite his words.

As the Blessing of Battle and the Concentration faded, Ian felt the dull ache in his body. His forearm and one cheekbone throbbed hard.

"If we head toward the wall like this, we’ll look exactly like a bunch of bandits," Ian joked.

Volber and Ivaldi burst into laughter at his remark. From a distance, they could easily be mistaken for raiders, vagabonds, or even undead. The grueling ten-day journey to visit five villages had taken its toll, leaving even the hardy northern warriors looking worn and gaunt.

Even Nila, whose enchanted barding significantly reduced energy expenditure, showed subtle signs of fatigue today—a rare sight indeed.

“When we recount this back home, every warrior will be envious. I’ve never seen battles as fierce as these in my life,” Volber added.

Ian snorted at his remark, then nodded toward Aiba, who stood waiting in the distance.

“Let’s go eat. We’ll rest here tonight and leave with them tomorrow.”

“So I wasn’t hearing things. Well, I’m fine leaving tonight, but I’ll follow orders,” Volber said, though his flushed expression betrayed his relief. On closer inspection, his legs were trembling slightly.

Show-off, Ian thought with a smirk, but as he took a step with Nila, a notification window abruptly appeared before him. Warriors of the North quest had been completed.

Ian blinked, caught off guard. There was still time before the erosion began, so the quest’s completion surprised him. The message meant that every barbarian tribe in the snowfields recognized his command—a better outcome than he’d expected.

…If only the reward weren’t more Strength.

Even more frustrating, this time it had increased by two points. At this rate, Strength might end up becoming his highest stat.

As he dismissed the completion window, another quest appeared.

[A New Legion.]

A legion, not a battalion? Was this a branching quest...?

However, it hardly mattered. Ian’s gaze darkened as he stared at the quest window. With all the summons completed, it was time to unite his scattered warriors into a single force.

They would march to the front lines, where countless deaths awaited.