I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Chapter 109

Crash!

The table shattered completely.

Charlotte, having knocked out one opponent, punched another in the face. A bald man at the same table was sent flying, spewing blood and broken teeth from a heel kick to the face.

Charlotte spun around, and with a swing of her forearm, she knocked away a dagger lunged at her by the last man. The dagger struck the wall, making a brief, tingling sound.

Instead of pain, the man looked shocked as he stared at his dangling wrist, right before Charlotte's fist smashed into his face.

Crash, bang, bang!

The man rolled noisily on the floor before slumping against the wall. It all happened in the span of a single inhale and exhale.

The thugs inside the bar, who had been watching dumbfounded, finally jolted in surprise.

"What the hell is this crazy demon chick...?!"

"She must be insane to want to die!"

They stood up, each muttering something. Contrary to the waitress’s words said earlier, simultaneously, they were armed with various-sized blades.

"...Huh."

However, Charlotte didn't pull out a weapon.

Cracking her neck as if loosening it with a purr, she lunged toward the nearest table.

"Kill her!"

"What are you looking at? Get her!"

Crack! Crash!

Shouts, curses, and the sounds of breaking and smashing instantly filled the room.

"Hmm...."

Why do they all seem like small fries?

While gnawing on some meat, Ian turned his gaze to the corner where the waitress was. A mercenary was blocking her path.

He wasn't wielding a knife, and the waitress appeared unafraid as if she anticipated trouble. Ian spotted a burly man in the kitchen area, observing the waitress while clutching a kitchen knife.

Ah, that guy must be the owner.

It seemed unlikely that any harm would come to the waitress or that the guards would be called. With a slight nod, Ian turned his attention back to the ongoing chaos.

Under the flickering lamplight, a primitive brawl was unfolding.

Crack!

Charlotte, unafraid of the weapons aimed at her, moved instinctively like a warrior. She used fists, feet, knees, and even her head when needed, as weapons.

She also flipped tables and retreated unexpectedly to prevent being surrounded, taking control of the situation.

I see there is... no need to help her.

Enjoying the scene, Ian took a sip of his drink just as several men from the back, riled up by the commotion, came forward shouting.

"What's this guy still eating for?"

"Don't you see he's with that demon chick? Get these guys too!"

Their eyes glinted, catching the dim light on their weapons.

Just as Ian put his drink down,

Shush—thump!

Thesaya, her silver hair fluttering, burst forward and kicked the guy at the front directly in the abdomen.

Using the momentum of her kick to throw the man and simultaneously brake, she then caught another by the nape of the neck and slammed him to the ground as she landed.

"Ugh..."

As her hair bounced up, it hit the face of another man standing behind her. Maintaining a low stance, Thesaya then kicked his shin.

Crack!

With the sound of breaking bone, the thug fell forward. Thesaya grabbed his hair and slammed his head onto the floor once more. Having quickly subdued three men, she dusted off her hands and returned to her seat. Her lips under her eye patch curved into a smile.

"Don't worry about it, Ian. Keep eating. I'll handle anyone else who comes."

...That's very comforting.

Ian chuckled and picked up his fork again, adding, "Don't get worked up. Don't eat them either."

"Don't worry. They're not worth the effort."

As she answered, she nodded at the other mercenaries watching her, as if to challenge them.

Though not as powerful in combat as Ian and Charlotte, Thesaya was still a formidable force, being both a vampire and a fairy. If she chose to, she could handle all the mercenaries present.

But there was no need since Charlotte was swiftly handling the situation. Amid the overturned and broken tables and chairs, shattered plates and bottles, more than ten mercenaries lay scattered.

"Phew...." Charlotte stood in the middle of the mayhem, catching her breath.

Her black fur and mane glistened with blood. A strange relief washed over her as she wiped the blood from around her eyes.

"Damn it..."

"What kind of monster is that...?"

The mercenaries, now dwindled to just four or five, hesitated and sighed. The fierce resolve they had at the beginning had long vanished. They only glanced anxiously, alternating their gaze between Charlotte and to the side.

It was at that moment when Ian, who had been dipping his bread in the stew, turned his eyes in the direction they were nervously watching. Soon after, his expression subtly shifted.

Right... It couldn't just be these guys.

Beyond the waitress, whose expression had now turned to shock, footsteps echoed from the stairs connected to the second floor.

A group of well-armed mercenaries was coming down.

"What the hell... fuck it..."

"What are those now?"

The mercenaries, having witnessed the chaos in the hall, sighed one by one. Their gaze naturally gathered on Charlotte, who stood in the center, grinning with her fangs exposed as if inviting them to join her. Just as the atmosphere threatened to turn hostile again, a booming voice filled the air.

"Everyone, hold your positions."

Parting the mercenaries, a burly man stepped forward. He was a heavily armored Northerner in his mid-thirties, with his face marked with distinct scars.

"You fools picked the wrong fight..."

He muttered almost like a sigh as he moved not toward Charlotte, but toward Ian, who was seated at a table. It seemed he immediately recognized who the leader was. Stopping at a reasonable distance, he looked at Ian, who continued to chew his bread, ignoring everyone else.

"Let's introduce ourselves. I'm Trude, in charge of these men."

"Ian."

Ian's response was curt.

Trude's expression twitched, but he did not draw the handaxe at his waist. It was clear that someone with a subordinate who had subdued all his men was not ordinary. The fact that Ian continued his meal amid the chaos was enough reason for Trude to act carefully.

"...It seems this fight started because of my men, but let's end this senseless violence here."

"The senseless violence was by your men, not us."

"...."

Trude glanced again at the silver-haired blind and the nonchalant beastfolk seated across Ian. Realizing they were unarmed made him swallow another sigh. The thought that if these people were to take up arms, all his men might be dead, crossed his mind.

He then spoke again. "It's clear you're no ordinary folk, but neither are we. It'd be tiresome if this reached the ears of higher-ups, so let's not escalate this. It's better to solve this through conversation, given our similar livelihoods."

"Good. Conversation. That's what I came for."

Ian finally set down his piece of bread and looked up directly into Trude's eyes.

"But first, apologize properly."

"...Right. For the rudeness of my men—"

"Not to me."

Ian cut him off, gesturing toward Thesaya and Charlotte.

"It seems right that your men apologize to the ones they insulted."

"...."

At that moment, Trude clenched his teeth. His jaw muscles visibly twitched, but that was all. He couldn't move rashly or say anything because of Ian's piercing gaze. Those deep, dark eyes seemed to be waiting for him to become agitated or angry.

Trude sensed his guess was correct. These people clearly didn't care about their numbers or backing. After all, it wasn't natural for such monstrous individuals to appear out of nowhere.

Was this situation orchestrated from the start...? To take us over, perhaps? At a time like this? No, rather, it was the kind of thing that would happen at a time like this.

It was a troubling thought, and imagining it alone turned his stomach, but he couldn't afford to gamble with their lives here. It was more pragmatic to yield now and plan for later.

With these thoughts, Trude finally turned his gaze and nodded slightly toward Charlotte and Thesaya.

"I... apologize for my men's rudeness."

After a brief silence, Charlotte moved forward, passing the flinching mercenaries to stand behind Thesaya. Trude twitched his eyebrow at the sharp smell of blood and body odor.

"Good. Now we can finally have a conversation."

Ian, with a dry smile, gestured to a chair.

"Sit down."

"....”

Is it now the turn to hand over my mercenary group?

Thinking this, Trude reluctantly seated himself.

***

With Charlotte watching, the mercenaries carried their injured comrades upstairs and started cleaning up the chaotic hall.

"From what I hear, the biggest crisis is in Agel Lan. The lords no longer follow the king's commands. It wouldn't be surprising if they've declared independence by now," Trude continued smoothly.

After knowing that Ian wanted the information about the border wars, Trude spilled everything he knew to Ian.

"The focus is now on Menere and Bel Ronde. Although they were initially allied, their relations have completely soured now, making the situation quite peculiar."

"Hmm. Indeed...." Ian sipped his drink, listening.

Indeed. Coming here was the right decision, thought Ian.

Mercenaries, along with merchants, were always the first to catch wind of news from afar, driven by the lure of profit. War, in particular, represented the ultimate opportunity for mercenaries, as it could yield not only wealth but also titles, depending on the circumstances.

For the mercenaries of Travelga, the border wars were especially tantalizing news. While they might be relegated to cleaning up after the local defense forces at home, the situation on the front lines offered much greater potential.

This was why Ian had chosen to gather news about the border from them. Of course, the main reason was that dealing with these sorts of ruthless individuals was both the easiest and most straightforward approach.

“...Just like here, mercenary bands are forming all over Travelga. They probably will leave this place before long.”

"The duke would be displeased."

"We can't just live off the scraps the generals throw us forever. When an opportunity presents itself, it must be seized. I actually thought that's why you came here."

"...?"

Ian frowned lightly as he looked at Trude, who added as if gauging his reaction.

"I thought you came to take over the mercenaries."

A smirk passed over Ian's lips. “Keep them for yourself. If I was going to do that in the first place, you'd already be dead.”

Ian looked directly into Trude's eyes as he added, "If that was the case, you would've been plotting to stab me in the back, wouldn't you?"

"...Hardly. My own life is most important to me," Trude replied quickly, shaking his head as he momentarily held his breath.

Ian scoffed lightly. From what Ian has seen, the Northern warriors always fell into two categories: those who were all muscle, even in their heads, and those sly as a fox, pretending to be like all muscle. Trude clearly belonged to the latter.

Feeling the weight of Ian's gaze, Trude averted his eyes briefly before continuing, "Anyway, if the Northern mercenary bands join the border wars, the dynamics of the war will completely change. There are rumors of all sorts of peoples like the Black Wolves, the Red Brotherhood, Valley Fox, and Agent of Vengeance wandering around, but then it'll be the Northerners who make a name for themselves."

"Agent of Vengeance...?" Ian paused, putting down his drink to ask.

"The person who roams devastated or looted regions, dealing with rogue mercenaries or nobles who exploit while the war has gone for their own gain. It's hard to believe all the tales, really."

Trude shrugged with a sly look typical of a mercenary. "No one in their right mind would take on such dangerous tasks without payment."

"Maybe it's not about the money," Ian mused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he curled the corners of his mouth.

"Do you know something?" Trude narrowed his brows.

"That's none of your concern. But speaking of it, you haven't mentioned Lu Sard. Do you know anything about that area?"

"That place has always been quiet. I just heard that soldiers are gathering at the fort near the border..."

Trude paused, locking eyes with Ian as if gauging the importance of Lu Sard's news.

"Is the information about Lu Sard what you're most interested in?"

Seeing the mercenary's calculating look, Ian casually warned, "Be careful with your words."

However, that was enough for Trude.

Trude sighed briefly in understanding and nodded as he returned Ian's gaze.

"I'll look into it quietly and let you know.

“No need for details; I just need the overall situation. But are you really okay with this?"

"What... Do you mean?"

"Your man got beaten up by us. There might be losses in strength. You might want revenge...” Ian's eyes formed a gentle arc.

"I wouldn't."

Trude swallowed, then definitely shook his head.

"Chasing after your lives would probably end all of us. Besides, my real close associates didn't suffer much. We were planning upstairs. Those guys were just waiting for breadcrumbs to fall."

As if trying to convince Ian, Trude took a breath before adding, "If they drew swords first, they should be thankful they're not dead."

"Well, good then," Ian nodded slowly.

As Trude relaxed a bit, Ian continued, "Make sure to manage your underlings well so I can keep trusting your word. If we're attacked, I'll assume it was under your orders."

"...!" Trude's shoulders tensed. He then forced a smile and nodded.

"Understood. Don't worry."

"You’re quite the communicative fellow. Let's move on to the next topic." Ian smoothly transitioned the conversation.

Trude then divulged all the information Ian needed, including the exact location of the church and the best workshop in Travelga. Unfortunately, there were no craftsmen skilled in magical circuits; such craftsmen or mages seemed to only exist directly under the Empire's control.

... Now I just need to wrap up the business with the church.

Ian leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

He then gestured to the tavern keeper and the waitress standing quietly in a corner, who approached the table at his signal.

"Uhm...?"

Trude looked puzzled as Ian added, "Bring out some money."

"Money? Why all of a sudden?"

"For the damages your men caused."

"Well, the damages were... honestly..."

"Honestly, what?"

"...Nothing."

Resigned, Trude sighed as he took out a purse of coins, then stole a glance at Ian.

"By any chance... are you a former knight?"

This means I’m that harsh, right?

With a smirk, Ian lifted his drink.

"Hardly."