I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain C.195

"...!" Her words caused the Count’s eyes to widen, and Obell and Jorah were equally taken aback.

Ian glanced sideways at Thesaya. Despite their decision not to prolong the conversation, she had skipped many intermediate steps. They had even prepared a plausible explanation for their visit to the West.

Did I overdo the indoctrination? Or does she have her own plan? freeweɓnovel.cѳm

Ian couldn’t tell from her expression. Thesaya’s face still bore a calm, confident smile. Just as Ian was about to look away, the Count spoke again, his furrowed brow deepening.

"A plague? What do you mean?"

Thesaya’s eyes seemed to bore into his as she replied, "So you truly were unaware. But this city belongs to you, does it not?"

"There’s no way such a thing could happen in my city. Even if it did, it’s none of your concern. It has nothing to do with your purpose here."

"It’s very much related."

"What?"

"The plague currently spreading is a result of a curse born from dark magic."

"...!"

"And as you mentioned, I am an elder of the House of Aynas, who cannot overlook the corrupted. So, you should answer carefully."

The Count’s expression twisted further, and an anxious Obell hurriedly interjected. "My lady, perhaps it would be best if we concluded for today. I don’t know why you’re bringing this up suddenly, but you are not only questioning Drenorov, but also my father’s honor—"

"Do you have proof?" The Count cut him off, standing abruptly.

He glared at Thesaya with his cloudy eyes and continued in a biting tone. "Proof to support your claim. If you cannot present evidence here and now, you will pay the price for attempting to tarnish my rule and the honor of this territory."

"You would know if you visited the slums outside the castle. But if you need proof right now..."

Thesaya’s smile vanished.

"You will also have to prove your innocence, Count."

Before the Count could respond, she sharply turned her head. "Sir Ivan, come forward and show the evidence."

Is this what method acting looks like?

Ian stifled a laugh at Thesaya’s icy gaze and stepped forward, removing the glove from his right hand. The Swamp’s Resentment, in the form of a ring on his middle finger, transformed into a snake and fell onto his outstretched left palm. It then regurgitated all the remnants of the curse it had absorbed.

"...!"

The Count frowned at the strange sight. The foul stench spread for a moment before the black sludge in Ian’s hand dissolved into black smoke. Turning back to the Count, Thesaya spoke with satisfaction.

"This is evidence of the plague and the remnants of the curse. Taken directly from the afflicted."

"You expect me to accept this grotesque trick as evidence?"

"Don’t play word games with me, Count." As Thesaya spoke, veins pulsed visibly at the corners of her eyes.

The Count’s face hardened, clearly recognizing this as a skill only an elder fairy could display.

"I provided the evidence you requested. You know I gain nothing from this, Count. So—" Thesaya abruptly stopped speaking.

Her eyes, shimmering with faint magic, shifted past the Count. Both she and Ian witnessed something unexpected. The black smoke, despite there being no wind, was flowing steadily in one direction, as if creating a path in midair. All eyes followed the direction showed by the smoke.

"...?" The Count, realizing this anomaly, also turned to look.

"No..."

"...."

Confusion spread across the faces of Obell and Jorah.

The Count, lips trembling, suddenly shouted. "You scoundrels! I took in those filthy Vantruian, and this is how you repay me?"

It was only then that everyone except Ian turned their attention to Jorah, who stood behind Obell. Jorah’s dark face hardened, and with a determined look, he swiftly drew a dagger from his sleeve and placed it against Obell’s throat.

"Everyone, step back!"

"...!"

Though shorter than a typical dagger, it was sharp enough to slit a throat. As Obell’s eyes widened in shock and he inhaled sharply, Jorah wrapped his other arm around Obell’s chest, glaring at the Count and Ian’s group.

"Damn it... They discovered us... Move back! Now! Move back! Now!"

"I took you in from the Vantur, fed you, cleaned you, made you human. And yet, you still couldn’t abandon your beastly ways. What have you been plotting in my city?" The Count spat out, unperturbed.

Jorah glared back at him. "Shut up! You cold-blooded tyrant. You exploited me and my parents our whole lives. Even this so-called nobleman!"

"Did your parents teach you this? When you caught leprosy, I should have known. You were engaged in vile deeds even then—"

"I said shut up! Do you want to see your son die right before your eyes?" Jorah’s dagger grazed Obell’s neck, drawing a trickle of blood.

Only then did the Count fall silent. Jorah, still holding Obell, shouted at the group. "Didn’t you hear me? Move back. Clear a path. Now."

"...."

But Ian’s group did not move. They exchanged glances, including a look from Ian, then turned their attention back to Jorah. Sweat formed on Jorah’s forehead.

"D-do you not care if the young lord dies? You heartless bastards...!"

At that moment, the black smoke drifted closer to Jorah and Obell. Jorah thrust his dagger forward, and the smoke swirled into his hand like a vortex. Jorah’s eyes began to darken.

"Wh-what are you doing? Back off! Will you really let my son die?" The Count shouted at the group.

Ian, who had been standing expressionless, finally spoke. "Your acting skills are pathetic. You should come to us for some lessons."

"What... what did you say?" Jorah demanded, glaring.

But Ian wasn’t looking at him.

"Both of you," said Ian.

His gaze had never left Obell.

Obell’s face hardened as Jorah shouted again. "Stop talking nonsense! If you don’t back off immediately, I’ll—"

"Go ahead and try," Ian interrupted, locking eyes with Jorah for the first time. "Do it. If you can."

Jorah momentarily froze, his eyes glimmering with a dark hue.

"... They won’t back down, Jorah," Obell spoke in a calm voice.

The Count, who had been glaring at Ian, turned his gaze to Obell. Obell raised a hand and gently touched Jorah’s face.

"Thank you for standing up for me."

"... Young master." Jorah’s face twisted with emotion. He rubbed his cheek against Obell’s hand and then let the dagger drop from his grip.

"What is this...?" The Count muttered in bewilderment, watching the scene unfold.

"They were... in on it together...?" Philip mumbled in disbelief.

Jorah raised his hands beside Obell’s shoulders, glaring at the group.

"Don’t come any closer. If you do..." The black gleam in Jorah’s eyes flickered.

Thesaya and the others glanced at Ian again, who gave a slight nod.

To Ian, this seemed like an event cut scene. It seemed likely to Ian that a new quest would follow, or at the very least, new information would be revealed. Moreover, Jorah and Obell were backing away, but there was nothing but a wall behind them. The chaotic power emanating from Jorah didn’t seem all that impressive.

Philip nodded in understanding as he prepared himself.

"Is it true? Did that wretched Vantruian drag you into this...?"

Facing the Count’s incredulous expression, Obell replied, "It’s the opposite, Father. Jorah merely joined me out of loyalty."

His voice was unusually calm, as if he had expected this day.

The Count’s lips trembled. "Why? Why would you...?"

"You truly have no idea, do you? Even when Mother was suffering so much, all you cared about was that wretched land. Even on the day she died, you were tending to the fields."

"Wh-what...?"

"I was foolish. Even as the sorrow in my heart turned to anger, all I did was pray. But do you know what? The goddesses never answered my prayers. Not even once. Instead, the ones who reached out to me..."

A faint smile spread across Obell’s lips. "... were those I once considered blasphemous. They understood my hatred, and I realized that this was my rightful cause."

"What on earth have you involved yourself in? You released a plague on the city for such a reason?"

"For such a reason? Such a reason?" Obell let out a bitter laugh.

"You’ve always been like this, Father. Obsessed with your title of ‘Muddy Noble,’ you considered everything but the land and its produce as insignificant. When I was crying over Mother’s death, how did you react? You beat me! You said returning to the Goddess was the natural order! And you left her body to be cremated in the fields?"

"So you took out your anger on the innocent citizens? People who had nothing to do with it?"

Obell hesitated, his gaze shifting away briefly before he continued, "Their sacrifice was... an unintended outcome. It was an unexpected tragedy that occurred as the sky began to be shrouded in darkness. No, it’s more accurate to say it was an inevitable tragedy that we had to endure. I’ve already accepted it. Their deaths sped up the corruption of this land."

"By Della Lu... Is that your goal? Are you aiming to corrupt the land that generations have cultivated, by your own hands?"

"Of course. That land is everything to you."

What a mess.

Ian sighed internally. It was neither surprising nor particularly shocking. Most corrupted individuals didn’t fall because of grand ideals or rhetoric, but were often driven by primal emotions.

Mev’s brother, Vernon, was also driven into corruption by his inferiority complex. However, Ian was the only one not surprised. The group couldn’t hide their surprise. The fact that the cheerful and kind nobleman had turned out to be one of the corrupted was quite a shock to them.

Thinking back, Ian hadn’t detected any signs of corruption in Obell or Jorah either.

This means...

As Ian’s eyes narrowed, the trembling Count spoke. "Stop this foolishness immediately. Lift the curse. Your betrayal of me and the gods is vengeance enough."

Obell let out a hollow laugh. "It’s too late... We crossed the point of no return long ago. I am merely a small part of a much larger whole."

"What...?"

"So watch as everything you’ve built rots away, turning into a land of decay and death. Maybe then you’ll understand a fraction of my pain.... It’s just a shame I won’t be there to see it."

Obell glanced at Jorah with a bittersweet smile and added, "Today, Jorah and I will die here."

"You, you truly...!" The Count coughed violently, staggering.

Jorah’s eyes hardened with determination."Young master... you will be able to see that day."

He embraced Obell tightly, then threw him backward, away from the group. Turning back to face the group, Jorah’s eyes were now completely black, his pupils gone. Darkness writhed around him.

"Philip!" Ian shouted as he signaled to Thesaya.

At the same moment, black smoke began to pour from Jorah’s body.

"Jorah—" As Obell screamed, Thesaya leaped toward the dais.

Grabbing the dazed Count by the collar, she swiftly returned.

Swoosh—

A radiant shield of holy power bloomed before Philip as he extended his hands. Smoke billowed from Jorah’s body, rapidly filling the space.

"Ugh... Argh...!" The head servant, caught in the smoke, collapsed, coughing blood. His body blackened and shriveled in moments.

"Stay within the barrier! It’s a deadly curse...!" Philip shouted as he slowly retreated, his holy shield burning away the encroaching smoke. The group, with Thesaya holding the Count, gathered behind the barrier.

"To wield such dark magic in broad daylight...?" Charlotte frowned as she muttered.

"This isn’t black magic." It was Ian who responded, his gaze steady as he added, "It’s the power bestowed by the deity they worship."

Probably at the cost of his life.

As if on cue, the surroundings began to darken. It wasn’t the black smoke filling the hall; the day itself was growing dim. As Philip glanced outside while continuing to retreat, they heard a voice.

"My lord! Are you safe?!"

The banquet hall doors burst open.

"What in the world...?!"

Philip’s head snapped around almost simultaneously. "No! Don’t come in!"

But it was too late. The stagnant mist surged forward, engulfing Sir Aurel and the soldiers who had rushed in. Horrified screams echoed as the smoke spread through the corridors and out the windows, filling the air with cries of pain and agony.

"This has gone too far..." Philip sighed as the mist began to thin out.

"Ugh... cough..." Beyond the diminishing fog, Jorah appeared, collapsing to the ground and coughing up blood. His entire body had turned as black as the plagued victims.

"No... Jorah... This can’t be..." Obell, who had remained untouched by the curse, looked down at Jorah in despair. Tears welled up in his eyes as he hurriedly crawled over and cradled Jorah in his arms.

Jorah’s lips moved faintly. "Is the path... is the path open...?"

"Yes, it’s open. Thank you, my..." Obell whispered, holding Jorah’s head close, ignoring the blackened skin. He seemed lost in grief and sorrow, indifferent to everything else.

"Jorah...? No... not again... Jorah..."

As Obell stroked Jorah, who no longer responded, the Count, still in shock and held by Thesaya, shouted, "Get... get your hands off him! Now!"

The Count, glaring at Obell through the shimmering golden barrier, continued, "Do you wish to die as well? Get away from him at once—"

"Is this the cost of abandoning you, Della Lu? Once more... Ah, great Father of Decay and Disease... take me... with him..." Obell muttered, ignoring the Count’s words.

Suddenly, his shoulders stiffened.

"Ugh... urgh..." He clutched his throat, dark smoke spilling from his mouth as he collapsed over Jorah.

The black mist quickly enveloped him, pulling him in.

"No...! No...!" The Count gasped, struggling to breathe.

At that moment, a quest window appeared before Ian’s eyes.

... Ah, so it finally begins.

Ian blinked nonchalantly and reached into his pocket dimension.