Chapter 315: I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain - Chapter 266

Chapter 266

"We were in the vicinity," Ian replied.

"...!"

Fael’s eyes widened as Ian, after setting his glass down, continued, "It’s best not to ask mercenaries questions related to their contracts."

Fael, who had been on the verge of asking more, met Ian’s gaze and quickly clamped his mouth shut.

Ian picked up his wineglass again and added, "In any case, the rumors are mostly true. I guess you’ll be able to sell your wine at an even higher price starting this year."

"... I see," Fael, who had momentarily stiffened, nodded slowly.

After toying with his wineglass in silence, he murmured, "I had somewhat expected it after seeing the changes in the North. But it seems like things are progressing even faster than expected. After all, if the frontier has fallen into such chaos, the Empire can’t remain safe forever."

Philip’s gaze immediately shifted toward Fael.

Setting down his fork, he asked, "What’s the current state of the frontier?"

Fael sighed and spoke. "I’ve heard it’s the worst it’s ever been. The demonic realms are expanding uncontrollably. It’s harder to find areas that aren’t cursed, and creatures we’ve never seen before are roaming the twisted forests and valleys, devouring people alive."

"...."

"I also heard the kingdoms have stopped their wars. It’s no longer a situation where they can afford to fight each other. Even so, they’re still catching daily waves of illegal immigrants in the border regions. Many are risking their lives to cross the border, opting for forced labor over certain death."

"... Perhaps they’re the brave ones. Rather than sitting and waiting for death, they’ve chosen to take a chance," Philip murmured, his eyes darkening as he stared into his wineglass, lost in thought.

Fael let out a bitter laugh and added, "If not for the advice from you both, I would have been swept into the thick of it. Not just me, but all the others who were with me as well."

Ian, who had been silently chewing his food, glanced at him. "So you didn’t end up going to Orendel after all."

"Correct. We only went as far as the border near Bel Ronde. By then, many of us had already realized that something was seriously wrong. Even the locals whispered that the madness of the Black Wall was spreading into the frontier."

Fael’s eyes took on a deeper hue while he held his wine glass beneath his chin. Even though time had passed, the memories of that experience were still as vivid as yesterday.

"The night before we made our decision, there were several ominous bolts of lightning from the sky. It wasn’t even raining, but it felt like the sky was being torn apart. And perhaps… it really was."

Was that when the Vampire Empress was killed? Or perhaps when something passed through the rift?

Ian pondered quietly as he continued his meal. He was the only one still eating. Philip had long since lost his appetite and only clutched his wineglass, while Elia watched Fael with curious eyes, fascinated by his story.

Fael took a sip of wine before continuing. "Bor kept urging me to decide, so I did. We turned the caravan around and headed back. But not all the trading companies agreed. Some insisted on pressing forward to Agel Lan."

"They must have thought with fewer caravans heading there, they could sell their goods at higher prices," Elia added.

Fael nodded. "There were still several cities left in Bel Ronde at that time. The situation in the surrounding areas was so chaotic that it seemed like an opportunity for higher profits than usual. It would’ve been hard to resist that temptation."

"So, the group split into two?" Philip asked.

Fael shrugged with a bitter smile. "That’s how it went. Although more people agreed to return with me, I ceded all the trading opportunities on the way back to the merchants who sided with me. I couldn’t let them suffer a loss just because of my decision."

"... For someone who’s grown his caravan to this size, it sounds like you’ve been taking quite a few losses," Ian said with a faint chuckle, taking another bite of meat.

Fael tilted his head slightly. "Instead, we redirected our caravan to the North. In exchange for yielding the frontier trade, we gained a good deal of supplies at a discount from other merchants. Some of them weren’t allowed to trade in the North, so it was quite the deal."

"Aha..." Ian smiled again.

So, he went back to the North after all.

It wasn’t surprising—if Fael had simply turned back, he’d have taken a significant loss. And Ian knew that losing money was something Fael hated more than anything.

"To be honest, it was more like being forced into an unpleasant situation. But once we entered the North, we realized it was something else entirely. The Black Wall was in a rather unusual state."

"The Black Wall...?" Elia’s eyes widened.

She quickly straightened her posture and added, "What exactly was unstable about it?"

"It was said to be unstable. I didn’t see it myself, but the fortresses on the frontline, like Karlingion, have already been closed off to civilians."

Fael, looking slightly surprised by Elia’s reaction, continued to speak in a calm, measured tone. "The Northern Legion seemed to be stationed almost entirely near the Black Wall. I’d imagine the situation is similar on the eastern front. The desert fortresses down south are probably seeing the same."

"They’re preparing for an incursion," Elia murmured in a lowered voice. "They must believe the Black Wall is drawing in the monsters from beyond."

Her demeanor had shifted; the usual slightly naïve air was gone, replaced by the serious face of a scholar deeply contemplating the situation.

After taking another sip of wine, she added, "It’s possible that the changes happening in the frontier are also tied to the Black Wall. Or it could be the opposite—the madness spreading through the frontier might be affecting the wall."

She’s sharp. I didn’t even give her that much information.

Ian thought to himself as he sipped his wine. The Black Wall had already been destabilizing by the time he left the North. The rift caused by the Vampire Empress’s death had likely triggered it.

Perhaps the ritual in the West, started at an unwanted moment by the corrupted ones, had also been influenced by it. Everything seemed interconnected—a vicious cycle of events feeding into one another.

And I’m the one keeping that cycle spinning, despite knowing it all.

A faint, bitter smile touched Ian’s lips. But it wasn’t surprising or ironic to him anymore. The nature of the quests he was tied to made such outcomes inevitable. Even if he did nothing, it wouldn’t change anything—only the pace at which things unfolded. What was bound to happen would happen. It was better to struggle against it now than to be swept away helplessly.

Knowing there’s a predetermined fate... no matter how much time passes, it’s something I’ll never get used to.

As Ian brought his glass to his lips, he noticed Philip staring at him from across the table. Their eyes met, and Philip, after a brief cough, raised his glass. It seemed like he had been having similar thoughts, possibly wondering if everything they had done had somehow been provoking the Black Wall all along.

"My, I’ve talked too much, haven’t I? Apologies," Elia murmured, suddenly aware of the quiet that had settled around the table.

Fael waved off her concerns, raising his wineglass, while Elia smiled sheepishly and added, "So, what happened next?"

"Thanks to that, I was able to sell the goods at a high price. You may not know, my lady, but the goods I had back then were mostly Imperial military supplies. Not to mention, I also had plenty of wine and cheese—everything the frontline needed."

Fael took a sip of his wine, a peculiar smile forming on his lips.

"After clearing out my stock, I ended up with more than twice the usual profit. Even after accounting for the losses from the extended schedule. In a way, this is all..."

Fael’s gaze shifted back toward Ian.

"... thanks to you, Sir. Since I had previously supplied the Autonomous Territory’s defense forces, it made trading much smoother."

"Listening to your story, it seems I could truly relax here, enjoying all this food and wine," Ian said, raising his glass after finishing his plate. Fael let out a hearty laugh.

"Of course, as I’ve said. Though, there’s one thing I regret…" Fael clicked his tongue briefly before adding, "I couldn’t find out the name of the Dragon Slayer, despite my best efforts."

Both Philip and Elia looked at Ian at the same time.

Unlike them, Ian casually took a sip of his wine and said, "That must have been disappointing, given your curiosity."

"Indeed! Whenever I brought up the topic, everyone clammed up as if they’d agreed to silence. To be honest, well... this is embarrassing to admit, but I’ll confess."

Fael gave a short cough, glancing at Ian for a moment before continuing. "We assumed you had some connection with the Northern superhuman. So, I mentioned your name."

"My name...?" Ian raised an eyebrow slightly as he asked, and Fael, seemingly misunderstanding his expression, lowered his head.

"I apologize. I only mentioned that we were acquainted, nothing more."

"... No need to apologize. I take it things didn’t go well after that?"

"The Northerners lit up when I said I knew you, but when I asked about the Northern superhuman, their expressions soured. They quickly clammed up and wouldn’t even look me in the eye after that."

Philip, stifling a grin, quickly covered his mouth with his glass. Ian, too, let out a faint chuckle. The Northerners must have thought Fael was mocking them—perhaps even insulting them. It was understandable. Asking about the Dragon Slayer after mentioning his name was sure to be taken the wrong way.

Fael clicked his tongue again, still puzzled by the memory. "Then, that very night, some ruffians barged into my lodging. They called themselves the Dragon Slayer’s Warriors, a mercenary band. Do you know them?"

"I know the name."

"They’re called a mercenary band, but they’re more like a vigilante group. Apparently, they have influence over nearly the entire North. If you ever find yourself there, be cautious around them."

Ian’s eyebrow lifted slightly.

So, those bastards had taken on the role of local enforcers.

Oblivious to Ian’s expression, Fael continued, "Anyway, their leader told me if I wanted to continue doing business in the North, I should watch what I say. No more lies that can be easily caught, and no prying about the Northern superhuman."

"So, did you agree with that?"

"What choice did I have with blades at my throat? When I told them I hadn’t lied, they just scoffed and left. After that, I couldn’t bring up the subject again. I still don’t know what lie they thought I told them."

Fael smacked his lips and looked at Ian. "Do you have any idea what it could’ve been?"

"Hmm…" For a moment, Ian considered telling the truth, but he quickly decided against it. Although Fael would eventually find out, dealing with all the fuss and questions that would follow wasn’t worth it right now. For the time being, he preferred to continue as Ian Hope, a wandering mercenary.

Ian finished his glass and grabbed the wine bottle as he spoke. "Well, you made it back safely, so does it really matter?"

"True enough. My trading connections weren’t severed, and I even bought surplus furs at a bargain, doubling my profits. Still, when I heard about the state of the frontier on my way back, it chilled me to the bone."

"You heard about the frontier’s condition during your return?" Philip interjected, eager for more details about the frontier.

Fael nodded. "Yes, and none of the caravans that ventured deep into the frontier have returned. Not a single one. There’s no news of their fate. Even if anyone is still alive, they’re likely stranded deep within the frontier."

Fael paused, glancing between Ian and Philip. "Once again, Sir Ian and Sir Philip, I must express my deepest gratitude. You saved hundreds of lives—perhaps even more."

"We’ll accept your thanks, but in the end, the credit goes to you. You were the one who decided," Ian responded nonchalantly and Philip nodded in agreement.

A faint, almost bitter smile touched Fael’s lips. "I’m not sure how to respond to such kind words, but no matter how many times I say it, my gratitude is endless. Not only did you save my life and help me make a profit, but you also allowed me to fulfill a long-held ambition."

"A long-held ambition?" Philip asked.

Fael, his voice subdued, replied, "The surviving caravans have banded together. We’ve formed a sort of alliance, though we haven’t yet settled on a name."