I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Chapter 27

Application is indeed challenging, thought Ian.

Using magic for purposes other than its intended use or mixing different types of magic was a technique possible only because he was a ruined character in the game. In fact, if he wasn't a failure, there would have been no need to explore such methods.

However, to survive until the end, it was necessary to research and try new things continually, especially when it was safe to fail. Once he reached a point where a single mistake could cost him his life, there wouldn't even be a chance to practice. In that sense, this failure wasn't too dangerous.

"You cunning...! There was more than one relic! Luring me to be off-guard!" The dark mage roared, regaining his posture. It seemed like he had completely failed to consider the possibility of Ian using magic from a different elemental attribute.

"You caught me." Ian shrugged.

Just as the dark mage's gaze shifted toward the mace, Ian launched himself forward again, propelled by a gust of wind.

"Such a rodent-like trick!" The dark mage raised his remaining arm; surprisingly, he was still clutching his magic wand with his sole arm.

A wall of wraiths, much larger than before, unfolded with a scattering of mournful wails, this time enveloping the entire area. It seemed that the same trick wouldn't work twice. Clicking his tongue at the situation, Ian drew more of his magical power. Even he couldn't avoid a barrier with no gaps.

Screech!

The barrier of wraiths swept through Ian, unleashing curses. The malevolent energy from the curses clouded Ian's vision, making it seem faint. Although the curses could not corrupt his mind, the overwhelming forces were enough to halt his charge. Overcome by their power, Ian fell straight down.

Woosh.

A surge of purple magic swirled around the dark mage, still holding the magic wand aloft. From behind the altar, another wave of magical power spread. The spells around the room sparkled, and the undead staring at Ian trembled as if electrocuted.

In the meantime, Ian landed safely on the ground and curled the corners of his mouth.

Directly to phase two? Quick, I like it.

The skeletons disassembled into pieces, sucked toward the dark mage. Bones clattered endlessly as they stuck to the dark mage's body. A giant lich made entirely of countless bones was taking shape. One of its weaknesses, physical defense, was disappearing at that moment. But it wasn't just the defense that was increasing.

"Your struggles end here, you red outcast... This is the power I obtained from the void's abyss," the voice boomed through the hall. The lich, crowned with countless skulls, raised its enlarged arm.

"...What a typical bastard," Ian scoffed, looking at the mass of necromancy forming in its grasp. Red magic swirled in Ian’s eyes.

"Let me enlighten you, that death will soon be a blessing," said the lich.

The lich's downward strike was faster than Ian completing his magic.

Swish!

A condensed beam of necromancy blasted forth. Ian dashed to the side.

Zap! Zoom.

The beam, now unbound, chased after him, dispersing fragments of necromancy everywhere. Ian, with his teeth clenched, maneuvered around the necromancer. This tactic of slowly narrowing the gap was one from the game. Charging straight head-on made dodging the beams impossible, while taking cover behind pillars forfeited any opportunity for a counterstrike. This method continued to prove its worth, even as the game had become their reality.

Zip-zap!

The pursuing beam finally subsided. Remnants of necromancy bounced off the ceiling and walls, flying in all directions as the dark mage prepared for the next attack.

I also don’t fall for the same trick twice. Ian murmured to himself. Red magic surged again in Ian's eyes. He didn't bother to dodge the incoming remnants of necromancy. He was able to withstand that much.

Swoosh.

Thanks to that, Ian’s magic was completed faster this time. Dozens of flames burst forth in succession, stretching toward the lich.

Boom!

The fireballs struck the lich’s head, shoulders, and chest in a haphazard manner, exploding on impact. Flashes of light and thick smoke enveloped him.

"Such a trivial... spell." With a voice full of scorn, a hand filled with necromantic energy cut through the smoke.

Zoom.

It was the Necromantic beam. However, Ian had already vanished from his previous spot. The initial plan had been to cloud the vision of the dark mage, so the moment the spell was unleashed, Ian had sprinted forward. The essence bead he was holding split and dropped from his grasp.

What a complete waste, fuck, Ian muttered, clicking his tongue in frustration as he summoned a new essence bead from the subspace.

"Always resorting to rodent-like tricks!" the lich exclaimed upon detecting Ian's new location. The beam, which had been aimlessly pouring into the void, swiftly redirected toward him. It was just then that Ian deftly maneuvered between the lich's legs.

"...?!" The lich's eyes wavered. Its grotesquely large arms were too big to aim between its legs, and it could hardly move aside from turning its body while casting magic.

Crackle, sizzle.

This gave Ian plenty of time to cast a high-level spell. A blue light shimmered around him, with electricity arcing between his tightened fists.

Zap-zap.

The lightning crackled intensely, spreading quickly in a web-like fashion. The electricity encircled his forearm, making it appear as though it was sheathed in lightning, just as the necromantic beam came to a halt. The lich, retreating with slow steps, gazed down at Ian. While a skull is incapable of displaying expressions, the sentiment conveyed by its appearance was unmistakably one of shock.

"Gray...?! It wasn't a relic?" said the lich.

“Does that matter at this point?” Ian looked up at him.

"...?!" The lich's eyes flickered, but Ian was already extending his hands, filled with lightning, toward its groin. A painfully blue light burst from the essence bead in his palm.

Rumble!

A thick bolt of lightning pierced through the lich.

A bright flash ensued. It was Chain Lightning, a spell of mid-tier gray magic that wasn't frequently utilized due to its long casting time and substantial mana requirements. Nevertheless, its offensive capability was significant, with the added benefit of bypassing physical armor. Amplified by the essence bead, it could thoroughly incinerate even a dark mage protected by bone armor.

Burr.

Eventually, the lightning that clung to the lich's form dissipated. The lich, previously trembling, became immobile. Smoke briefly wafted from its large eye sockets and agape mouth.

Buzzz.

Then, its entire body crumbled to dust.

"......!" Ian quickly stepped back, but he couldn't avoid the cascade of bone dust. Emerging from the pile of dust, Ian grimaced in disgust.

So damn disgusting, Ian thought. After wiping his face clean, he proceeded. The battle wasn't finished. Stowing away the essence bead and mace back into subspace, he unsheathed his sword and came to a halt.

Amidst the bone dust, the dark mage was sprawled out. His limbs, now mummified and charred, pressed against the ground, and his eyes had clouded over, resembling those of a boiled creature. Despite not being entirely destroyed, he managed to utter some words.

"How... could you use magic of a different color...?" A voice mixed with smoke seeped through his lips.

"You're about to die, and you're still curious about that?" A smirk crossed Ian's face.

The dark mage flapped his lips. Fear finally spread across his gaunt face. "If only I had a little more time... I could have become a true immortal... The primordial truth... the power of the abyss was mine... Damn it...."

As Ian dusted off the bone powder from his body, listening to what could be either pleas or last words, he eventually placed one foot on the back of the necromancer, Conrad.

"It won't be of any consolation but," Ian lifted his arm. He continued, "You wouldn't have become immortal or discovered that so-called truth, even with more time, Conrad."

"How could ... y...you know my name?" said Conrad.

With a swift motion, Ian’s sword struck Conrad's neck. Like a dry branch, his head was severed and rolled away. Ian bent down to pick up the magic wand Conrad had been using.

Sssssss—

From Conrad's head, a dark purple smoke began to rise. What emerged from every orifice was the twisted and bloated spirit of the necromancer.

This is unexpected. As Ian furrowed his brow, another change occurred. A crack appeared in the air, and a rift opened, revealing a purplish hue.

Screech!

Soon after, Conrad's spirit began to be sucked into the crack. With screams of agony, the hole that had devoured Conrad's soul disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"...What was that?" Ian blinked in surprise. A rift that tears through space and swallows souls was never heard of. He continued, "Is that the ...void?"

The void, the primordial chaos, and the abyss were terms commonly associated with the corrupted. Shrugging his shoulders, Ian placed the magic wand into subspace and descended beneath the pile of bones looking for Conrad’s head. Conrad's severed head still radiated a clear residue of corrupted magic, despite the soul being sucked away.

"It'll serve as enough evidence...,” said Ian.

After placing the head in a prepared sack, Ian finally sat down, overwhelmed by the aftermath of extensive magic use. The nausea and headache that followed suggested he was on the brink of magical exhaustion.

"Anyway..." Rubbing his temples, Ian looked up at the ceiling.

Why hasn't it shut down? thought Ian. The spell circuits were still active, implying that the undead in the tomb were still moving. In the game, killing the necromancer stopped the circuits, causing all undead to collapse.

"Could it be..." Ian's gaze shifted to the altar, recalling the magical waves that spread every time Conrad used high magic. Maybe an unnecessary dose of realism had been added.

Magic itself is nonsense in the first place... Ian stood up, sighing. Circling the altar, he eventually stopped behind it, where the spell circuits converged into a circular empty space large enough for a palm. Ian, drawing up magic, placed his hand on it.

Thunk.

The engraved wall receded, unveiling stairs descending beneath the altar. Ian made his way down. The spell circuits etched into the walls and ceiling ensured the passage was illuminated. Shortly after, he arrived at a modest alcove situated between the staircases, outfitted with a bookshelf and a desk heaped with papers and books.

Mages and their research, Ian mused.

Ian scanned the desk nonchalantly. Mages endlessly pursued their research and studies. Ian had come across other mage's research journals before, often finding them akin to the diaries of schizophrenics.

Still, there was sometimes useful information, thought Ian.

Ian's attention eventually settled on a thick, leather-bound book. It was a research journal. After taking the journal, he turned around without a second thought, as the spell circuits brightened, revealing a small room no larger than a single square meter. The circuits converged on a pillar about a meter high in the center of the room, atop which floated a soccer ball-sized purple sphere.

Is this an essence bead....?

Ian had never seen such a large size before. Approaching the pillar, he tilted his head, sensing that the feeling emanating from it was far from corrupted magic. It felt more like pure magic, perhaps even divine.

Well, this must be the power source, thought Ian. Standing in front of the pillar, Ian scratched his cheek, hesitant to destroy it.

Deciding to trust his resistance, the fact that it felt far from corruption influenced his decision. Gathering magic in his hand as a precaution, he extended his reach toward the sphere. As his fingertips made contact, concentric circles rippled across the surface of the sphere.

"What...?" Ian uttered.

In the very next instant, as Ian attempted to retract his hand,

Boom!

The sphere burst open like an exploding paint can, enveloping him completely. The world flipped over, and then, darkness followed.

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