I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

Chapter 157

Chapter 157

"...!" Mev and Philip, who had been staring blankly at him, blinked in surprise. They quickly began to separate the horses from the carriage.

Ian nodded slightly at Charlotte and looked ahead again. The approaching riders were lined up midway up the hill.

“Do you recognize who I am?”

A voice imbued with magical power echoed. It was the voice of the vampire knight clutching a halberd. Among the array of minion cavalrymen, he stood alone just below the top of the hill. Ian, with a cigarette between his fingers, exhaled smoke as he replied.

“Count Shapiro?”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it seemed loud enough for the Count to hear.

A low laugh spread. “I’ve been waiting for you, Dragon Slayer.”

“I didn’t expect to meet so soon.” The Count removed his helmet, revealing a face not much different from that of his son, Warren.

He glared at Ian with his red eyes as he spoke. “I personally pleaded with the Empress. To be the first to greet the Dragon Slayer at the forefront of the legion. To have the honorable chance for revenge.”

“So you are the one who taught that brat how to pretend to be a knight….” Ian snorted and took another drag on his cigarette.

Noticing the commotion by the carriage dying down, he picked up the reins and smiled.

"Save that talk for your son. I’ll make sure you reunite with him soon."

Without waiting for a reply, he snapped the reins. The horse bolted forward. As the Count ground his teeth and put on his helmet, the minion cavalrymen began to charge as if on cue. Fear was evident in the horse’s breath, but Ian lashed the reins harder to increase the speed. He didn’t want to waste time on these creatures.

Swoosh—

Under the helmet, Ian’s eyes turned gray. The wind wrapped around his body, and the horse sped up even more. The cavalry in the front line quickly closed in. They were charging with their lances extended without hesitation. Normally, their lance blades would have reached him first.

But that was not the case this time.

Swish.

Ian twisted his body, turning the horse’s head to the side, and swung the greatsword with both hands. He felt the horse stagger but paid it no mind. Wind blades surged along the sword’s blade, and a red divine force swept through the cavalry before the lance blades could reach him.

Crack!

The trajectory tore through everything in its path, sparing neither horse nor rider. Severed horse heads and upper bodies of the cavalrymen, clad in chainmail, soared into the air, spraying black blood. The faces of the dismembered cavalrymen twisted in a mix of shock and pain.

Ian no longer looked at them. Gripping the saddle tightly with his thighs, he raised his extended arm and swung diagonally downward this time.

Crack—

The remaining Wind Blade, infused with red divinity, surged forth. The minions leaping over the collapsing cavalry were torn apart in midair.

“Is he... crazy...?”

“Aaah—”

Rotten blood and severed flesh littered the ground. Curses and screams filled the air. Fear was etched on the faces of the charging cavalry. The scene was too horrific to have been caused by just two strikes. Yet, retreat was not an option for them.

Clang!

Another red trajectory swept through the cavalry beside him. No matter how blessed with the Blessing of Battle, it was impossible to handle the Legion Commander’s Greatsword with the finesse of an ordinary longsword. But such skill wasn’t necessary. All that was needed was to swing it with the intent to tear apart anything in the way.

Of course, this applied only to Ian.

Whack—

The horse, staggering precariously, finally collapsed.

Sorry.

Muttering inwardly, Ian kicked off the saddle and leaped. As the collapsing horse hit the ground, his body soared through the air in a heavy arc. The minion cavalry charging at him looked up in surprise.

With the greatsword raised above his head, Ian looked toward the hill. The lone figure of the Count stood clearly. A flicker of panic was visible in the glowing eyes beneath the helmet. It was understandable. No matter how strong he was, he was still human, and many believed that the Dragon Slayer’s reputation was exaggerated in various ways.

Ian smirked at the Count, then looked down again.

The cavalry had their spears raised, aiming at him. Even at this moment, his rational mind whispered that it might be reckless to charge into their midst. However, the heat in his heart burned more fiercely, urging him to attack immediately. His grip tightened around the greatsword.

He gripped the greatsword tightly.

“Ooooooooh!”

With a roar that seemed to expel the heat from his body, Ian swung the greatsword downward as he fell.

***

“What... that doesn’t make sense....” Philip muttered blankly, staring at the red trajectory that had cut through the air.

It was a sight that was hard to believe, even while witnessing it with one’s own eyes. The way he wielded the massive sword, as tall as a person, with such ease. The way he soared so high into the air. Even the way he came crashing down into the midst of his enemies, driving the giant blade into the ground. Everything about it was surreal.

"Snap out of it. This is no time to be watching."

Philip blinked in surprise at Charlotte’s scolding from behind. Only then did he look ahead again. The enemies were already close.

"Prepare yourselves!" Shouting, Philip tightened his grip on the reins. The horse, burdened with two passengers, panted heavily, but it had no choice but to follow Ian.

The minion cavalry paid no attention to them, their focus entirely on Ian. It was only natural. His presence, clad in red holy power and swinging a greatsword, was overwhelmingly dominant. He likely intended it that way.

Thanks to this, the group was able to reach the enemy’s rear without much interference.

"I’ll go first, my lord!" Philip shouted, adjusting his grip on his sword.

Charlotte rose slightly from her saddle. Despite the uphill path and their full-speed gallop, she maintained her balance with only the movement of her lower body. As she lifted her sword over her shoulder with both hands,

Swoosh—

Philip’s outstretched sword gleamed. A dazzling golden curtain unfurled in front of the running horse.

The curtain collided with a minion cavalryman.

"Aaagh—" The rider, along with his horse, burst into flames and screamed. Even that quickly turned to ash under Philip’s charging horse.

Charlotte leaped lightly off her horse just then. Her accelerating sword cleaved the air.

Crack!

Charlotte landed, stabbing her sword into the rider’s shoulders. The impaled rider went limp without even a scream.

While she pulled out her sword and leaped back up with acrobatic skill, Philip followed, stabbing his holy-powered imbued sword. There was no need to worry about getting attacked from behind.

Swish.

Mev, wielding a long two-handed sword, was beheading the riders. Although the riders didn’t die from decapitation, it rendered them combat-ineffective.

Thud! Crack—

They quickly began sweeping through the rear of the cavalry. The ones distracted by Ian finally turned around.

"When did they get here, what the fuck...!"

"Scatter and surround them! Scatter!"

Some charged at them while others spread out to widen the distance. Mev and Philip didn’t bother to chase those who distanced themselves, focusing instead on clearing a path.

Their goal was to catch up with Ian.

Of course, it wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

"My lord! I see him!" Philip shouted while deflecting and dodging flying spears and stabbing the cavalry. The red trail that had been obscured by the cavalry began to appear again.

Mev turned to where Philip pointed and sighed.

"He’s already that far ahead...?"

Ian was already past the middle of the hill. The speed suggested he hadn’t stopped running in a straight line. Moreover, somehow he was riding a dead horse like the cavalry. The holy power was gradually burning the horse, but Ian didn’t seem to care.

The cavalry henchmen, even with fear etched on their faces, stubbornly tried to block his path. It was a futile resistance.

Not a single one could withstand Ian’s greatsword. Soon, the horse, unable to endure the holy power, collapsed, and Ian, raising his greatsword, leaped forward without hesitation

Swoosh.

A cavalryman blocking his path was split in half along with his horse. Landing with his greatsword embedded in the ground, Ian was covered in black blood.

"Lu Solar, have mercy...." Philip muttered.

The legendary Superhuman of the North, whom he had only heard about in stories, was right there. The Ian now rising with the massive sword in hand looked completely different from the Ian he once knew.

Ian let his sword hang by his side and gazed up at the hill. Before he knew it, nothing was standing between him and Count Shapiro.

Whizz—

It was then that the sound of something tearing through the air pierced their ears. Just as Philip, eyes wide open, was about to raise his shield,

Crack!

Suddenly, a sword swung upward, its trajectory striking the rider’s head. It was Charlotte. She immediately decapitated him with the silver sword in her left hand and spat out.

"I told you not to get distracted."

She threw the rider’s body aside and sat in the saddle. The dead horse, now obedient and without resistance, began to run. It seemed to follow any command given by the person seated in the saddle without question.

"Let’s go! Philip!" Mev’s shout followed.

Covered in black blood, she adjusted her grip on her two-handed sword and moved ahead.

The cavalry blocking their path fell one by one. Mere minions could not match those who had crossed numerous deadly battlefields.

"Dragon Slayer—"

It was then that a thunderous shout, imbued with magic, echoed through the air. Count Shapiro, shrouded in black smoke, was charging forward. The red streak racing toward him was, of course, Ian. Even though he was charging unarmed, there was no hesitation in his stride.

The Count thrust his pike forward. Ian did not evade; instead, he swung his greatsword upward. The massive red arc tore through the air. The arc swept through the incoming pike and the horse beyond it simultaneously. The horse cut cleanly from its neck down to its armor, collapsed, and the Count tumbled along with it.

Ian, too, rolled on the ground to slow his momentum. The Count’s roar of rage followed.

“You son of a—”

At the same time, black smoke spread out in concentric circles.

Black smoke began to emanate from the eyes and mouths of the minion cavalry. The horses they rode were no exception.

“Damn it....” Even while continuing the fight, Philip, who had been watching Ian from time to time, let out a belated sigh.

“Ugh... Argh...!” The cavalry, who had been maintaining their distance and looking for an opening, suddenly turned to face them, letting out raspy breaths.

“Hold the line, Philip!” Mev, shouting calmly, raised her sword.

As the minion cavalry started to charge at them, growling like beasts,

“Finish this quickly, my lord...!” Philip’s sword began to shine with holy power.

***

"I will not... forgive you...!" The Count, drawing his sword, spat out the words.

Completely engulfed in the black mist, he looked like a monster made of shadows.

Like father, like son, Ian thought as he started running toward him. His greatsword, dragging along the ground like a plow, churned up the earth and scattered dust.

“With all my power...!” The Count, shouting, started swinging his sword in rapid succession.

A series of crescent moon-like black trajectories flew toward Ian. Ian did not use the Force Field or magic. He simply stretched out his left hand to grasp the sword hilt in the opposite direction, then raised his arm diagonally to cover his body with the broad side of the sword.

Although he couldn’t cover his lower body completely, it didn’t matter. Honestly, at this moment, he felt like he wouldn’t die even if he took those hits with his bare body. His armor would be reduced to rags, though.

Clang— Crunch!

The black slashes struck the greatsword and passed by. A heavy impact traveled through the sword to Ian’s supporting arm. However, it was a bearable shock.

The slashes dispersed as they passed him, and Ian’s charge didn’t stop.

Is this why the greatsword had a defense stat?

Ian thought as he lowered the arm that had been covering his face. The Count’s pitch-black figure came into view.

Not expecting Ian to block the attack and charge straight through, the Count hurriedly adjusted his grip on his sword with both hands.

However, Ian was faster in extending his greatsword.

Slash—

The upward diagonal red trajectory slashed through the Count’s pitch-black body at an angle. The overwhelming strength blessed by the Blessing of Battle, combined with the massive blade and the wind blade imbued with holy power, tore through the Count’s magic and even the plate armor beyond it.

Poof—

The smoke surrounding the Count vanished in an instant. The Count’s upper body crashed to the ground.

With a grinding sound, Ian embedded his greatsword into the ground to slow himself. Due to his immense power, he left a long trail on the ground before coming to a stop.

He had felt this before, but controlling this much power with precision wasn’t easy.

“Damn… it...!” The sprawled Count groaned. Despite having his side to his right chest sliced off, he was still alive. His right arm was also severed below the shoulder.

The Count spewed smoke desperately, but he couldn’t regenerate his body. The remnants of the holy power from the Wind Blade were burning the severed edges. Only after shaking off that power could he return to his original form.

Of course, Ian had no intention of waiting. With his greatsword slung over his shoulder, he strode toward the Count. The commotion on the hillside finally reached his ears. His companions were cutting down the crazed minion cavalry as they ascended the hill. They were moving quickly enough, but he was simply faster.

“I will not forgive... you, you wretch... I will not....” The Count, muttering madly, suddenly stiffened.

“Guh, urgh...!?”

The Count convulsed as if having a seizure. A stream of blood shot out of his mouth.

Fear was etched on the Count’s face as he tilted his head back.

“N-no—” With a splatter, blood sprayed from the Count’s eyes, nose, mouth, and severed parts. It soon merged into a sticky mass and shot off like an arrow beyond the hill.

“...?” Ian, turning his head, let out a faint chuckle. The blood mass had flown precisely in the direction of the vortex’s eye.

That must have been the true blood.

"Retaking it before losing it, huh...."

How thrifty.

It was probably only possible inside here. Otherwise, the adjudicator wouldn’t have let him burn his true blood when they died.

"Ah, ah...." The Count, now limp, groaned.

Life was draining from his face. Ian didn’t watch.

Thud!

The greatsword crushed the Count’s head. The trembling stopped.

Crack, crack—

An immediate change occurred below the hill. The minion cavalry crumbled into ashes, and the dead horses reverted to rotting carcasses. Confirming his gained experience points, Ian turned toward the top of the hill.

Clack-clack—

His companions approached from behind. Only Mev had managed to keep her horse alive.

"You finished it before we even got there, Ian."

As Ian reached the top of the hill, her voice continued. Taking in the scene beyond the hill, Ian curled one corner of his mouth and responded.

"Finished? This is just the beginning." A dark wave of various beings was surging toward the hill.

"Lu Solar, have mercy...." Philip sighed as he finally took in the sight.

"Everyone, follow closely." Ian, with his greatsword hanging down, took a bold step forward.

"From now on, we can’t stop."