I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain Lucia, her eyes wide behind the mask, whipped her head around. Ian added, "He’s saying a debt collector has shown up, and if he leaves now, he’ll have no way to pay his gambling debts, so he’s asking for help." Sanford, who had been chattering nonstop, turned and looked at Ian just then. Seemingly with no idea that Ian had heard him, he even wore a leisurely smile. "He’s saying just buy him enough time to get out of here safely, and he’ll share all the money in that box." Smiling back, Ian repeated the man’s words word-for-word. A moment later, Yog’s chuckling laughter echoed in his mind. —How amusing. He thinks he’s outsmarted you, and ‌he believes he can escape simply by leaving this place. One corner of Ian’s mouth twisted a little more. In any case, the situation itself wasn’t particularly surprising. Besides the fact that the man was an untrustworthy criminal bastard, Ian had received a quest. It was only natural that there would be some bumps on the road to completing it. He’d simply assumed that, after dodging traps and chasing the bastard down, the finish line would be straightforward. So that’s why the completion window didn’t pop up. The one-eyed bastard’s plan was obvious. He likely had a base for his crew somewhere in the back alleys. He probably planned to slip out of here, lie low, and then set sail with other smuggling ships, taking on passengers. Of course, it wouldn’t be strange if he just bolted tonight, which would cause the quest to fail. There might be a chance to catch him beforehand, but in truth, Ian didn’t even need to think that far. Sanford wasn’t going to escape from here. "It seems they’ve accepted the deal," Lucia added then. Behind them, three of the thugs who had been standing by a nearby wall had approached. Their steps were leisurely, as if to avoid drawing the attention of the other customers. Lucia looked at Ian with strangely shining eyes. "What should we do?" "Let’s try to resolve this with words first." "And if that doesn’t work?" Ian glanced at the approaching men in their formal attire and murmured, "The situation you’re hoping for will begin." Through the eyeholes of the mask, Lucia’s eyes curved into a slight crescent. Ian looked down at her sparkling eyes and added, "Try not to kill them if you can help it. Easier cleanup that way." "Yes, of course, I think you’re the one who needs to be more careful about that, Sir Ian." "Don’t hold back so much you get hurt, either." "Don’t worry." Lucia winked one eye and took a step back behind Ian. To others, it would look like a servant finding her place, but in reality, it was a move to protect Ian’s back and secure space to swing her fists. "Inspection. Both of you, raise your hands above your shoulders," one of the approaching thugs said then. Two were likely planning to restrain Ian, and the third would handle Lucia. Ian turned slightly toward them.‌ "There seems to be a misunderstanding. I have come here on the orders of His Excellency Duke Jihandar." "That has nothing to do with us. Turn around and raise your arms above your shoulders. If you do not comply, we will escort you by force." The thug said in a flat tone, not slowing his approach. The two following behind him were exchanging glances, likely signaling each other. However, the reason Ian’s brow twitched slightly wasn’t because of them. —The peaceful method doesn’t seem to have worked. It was because of Yog’s laughter-tinged voice. Ian smacked his lips. "Then, we will escort you." The thug who had approached in front of them reached for Ian’s shoulder, likely intending to twist his arm and restrain him. Of course, Ian didn’t let himself be caught. Instead, Ian’s right fist shot out with no warning, grazing the thug’s lower jaw. It was a very light movement, but the result was anything but. The thug’s head snapped sideways, body pitching violently before he went flying. The thug crashed into a nearby table, getting entangled with it as he was pushed all the way to the wall. As the eyes of the two following behind him widened as if they would tear, Ian’s brow, his fist still extended, also furrowed slightly. That was gentle. Wasn’t it? He’d pulled his strike, aiming only to knock the man out. Yet the man had gone tumbling with bone-snapping force. Ian looked back at the thug who was sprawled out with the broken table. "No, fuck! My money!" "Get out of the way! Don’t touch my money!" The gamblers who had suddenly lost their table screamed and lunged forward. They paid no mind to the twitching, fallen man or to Ian, their eyes fixed solely on the money scattered on the floor. "You son of a bitch—" The two who had recovered from their surprise shouted and charged. Of course, only one of them reached Ian. Lucia’s fist, her cloak fluttering, had slammed into the other one’s face. The thug’s feet lifted off the ground as his head snapped back, blood bursting from his crushed nose and mouth. At the same time, the back of Ian’s fist grazed the jaw of the one who had charged forward. His head whipped around, and the force sent him hurtling sideways. Not only the one who had flown backward but also the one who had been sent flying sideways crashed into the gamblers and tables, tumbling over. With a scream, the cards, gold coins, and silver coins on the table flew in all directions. "Why are you all fighting here!" "Grab the money! The money!" "Nobody get up! Anyone who picks up the money will lose a wrist!" The situation immediately caused chaos in the area. The gamblers either shot up to grab their money on the tables or bent down to pick up the coins that had fallen on the ground. Thugs stationed along the walls rushed forward at once, only to stumble and curse as they fought through the panicked crowd. I’ll need to hold back even more. Meanwhile, Ian, who had checked the condition of the man sprawled on the ground, swallowed a chuckle. Come to think of it, it felt like an eternity since he had fought an ordinary human. For what felt like over a year, he had been fighting all sorts of monsters, demons, and archdemons. The closest thing to a human had been the beastfolk warriors. Of course, they too had physical abilities incomparable to ordinary humans, but even they hadn’t posed much of a challenge. In a strange mix of joy and displeasure, Ian turned his head to the right. Sanford had come into view, standing at the bottom of the stairs. The man was no longer smiling. Sanford, who had been watching the situation with his mouth agape in shock, flinched as if electrocuted and blinked the moment he met Ian’s eyes. That was when one of the thugs beside Sanford suddenly bellowed and charged forward, a club raised high, pulled loose from where it had been tied at his waist. Instead of meeting him head-on, Ian stepped aside. "I’ll crack your head open, you bastard!" The thug barreled through the crowd, swinging the club down as he lunged. To Ian’s eyes, though, the attack was so clumsy and sluggish it was almost yawn-inducing. As the man’s club cut through the air, Ian extended his palm into the gap. His open hand brushed past the thug’s chin, barely two fingers making contact, yet it was enough to wrench the man’s jaw aside and roll his eyes back. The thug buckled and fell mid-swing, then was shoved backward by an unseen force and slammed against the wall. That should keep him from being trampled to death. Ian, who had retracted his Willful Grasp, turned his gaze again. The man who had just fallen had a clearly dislocated jaw, but in any case, it was better than being dead. Of course, it was also better than being beaten up by Lucia. She was having the time of her life, her cloak whipping as her fists and feet lashed out. "Get her! Get that squirrel-sized bitch!" Half a dozen thugs rushed her at once, but not one could hold her. Her cloak slipped from their fingers like greased silk, and she darted free each time. The fact that the thugs didn’t go down from a single punch seemed to excite her all the more. —Calm yourself, Lucy. Keep that up, and that unpleasant fire of yours might flare. My friend won’t be too pleased with that. Google seaʀᴄh 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢•𝓷𝓮𝓽 Yog chuckled on, adding slyly, as though half-hoping that would happen. Lucia, after kicking one man’s shin out from under him, snapped her head around. "Don’t worry! I haven’t killed anyone!" Twisting another one’s jaw, Ian let out a chuckle. In any case, Lucia was being a great help, holding the entire rear line on her own. Of course, that didn’t mean Ian wasn’t busy. "What the hell is that bastard?" "By Lu Solar, fuck! Is he a monster?!" "Quit whining! Get him!" From the stairs above, more thugs poured down in droves, roused by the commotion. Even as they were swept along by their own rush, their faces were plastered with shock. It was only natural. Ian was walking toward the stairs they had come down from, twisting the jaws of every man he encountered. They all lost consciousness in a single blow, collapsed, and were sent flying into the side wall. They would never know that this was his own way of being considerate, to prevent them from being trampled to death in the chaos. "Get your hands off my money! You bastard—" "Why is this your money? Did you write your name on it? Huh?" Of course, despite Ian’s tearful efforts, nothing changed. The chaos in the room was only getting worse. "This is perfect! You bastard, you hid a card up your sleeve earlier, didn’t you? Come here, you bastard!" Fights had begun breaking out among the gamblers as well. Some took advantage of the confusion to snatch other people’s money, while others seized the chance to settle old grudges. "Give me back my money, you cheating son of a—" "Gah—Aagh! A knife? Why the hell do you have a knife!" Weapons were supposed to be forbidden, but there was even someone swinging a short blade like a dagger. Chairs flew through the air, and curses, shouts, and screams filled the room. —Joy! This chaos and madness… This is it! This is the taste! Humans are so entertaining. Yog’s laughter and nonsense also scraped at Ian’s mind without pause. I should have just thrown this bastard into my pocket dimension. Clicking his tongue inwardly, Ian swung his hand mechanically. Now he wasn’t even bothering to distinguish between gamblers and thugs. He struck them all equally, spinning jaws and dropping men. Along the walls, bodies lay slumped in piles, jaws slack or knocked out of place. It wasn’t long before Ian’s brow furrowed slightly. Sanford was nowhere to be seen. The moment he realized Ian was closing in, he must’ve slipped away into the confusion. He probably hadn’t left the hall yet, but finding him in this bedlam would be no simple task. There’s nothing I can do. Ian clicked his tongue. —Mind if I lend a hand, Friend? Yog’s whisper crossed his mind. —If I just bite a few of them, the situation will get even more interesting. "Just tell Lucy to get down. Now," said Ian. As Yog, who had paused, immediately relayed his words, a colorless wave spread in Ian’s eyes. The Willful Grasp extended out to the side. At the same time, Ian extended his left hand forward and swung it hard to the side. The Willful Grasp fanned out in the same direction, like a great arc. The charging thugs were sent flying as if hit by a carriage. And it wasn’t just them. Gamblers, tables, chairs, thugs—everything caught in the arc of his force was swept away in a tangled heap. The shockwave rippled outward, toppling the hall like a line of falling dominoes. "What the hell is—urghk!" The chaotic room instantly fell silent, leaving only groans. The only one standing in the middle of it all was Ian, his left arm extended to the side. The divinity that had spread from Saint Damiel’s Ring faded. Of course, it was just for show. It would be easier to explain things if it looked like he had used divinity rather than psychic force or magic. The Willful Grasp dissipated as silently and without a trace as it had appeared. "Whoa…" Lucia, flat on the floor, pushed herself up with a hushed gasp of awe. She was clearly impressed by how Ian had ended the chaos in a single motion. Surprisingly, even with the wreckage, no deaths occurred. "A Saint’s Apostle… why is he in a place ? Fuck." The thugs who had just come down the stairs were pressed flat against the walls, voices trembling. A few were even holding their hands clasped in front of their chests. In any case, it was clear they had completely lost their will to fight. Of course, Ian didn’t even spare them a glance. His gaze was carefully scanning the fallen people. "Th-This is bullshit!" It wasn’t long before Sanford, who had pushed aside a fallen person, shot up from in front of a distant wall. The reason he seemed to have no trouble moving was likely because he had been crawling along the wall. He bolted, not even glancing at Ian across the hall. His eyes were fixed ahead, toward the railing of the staircase leading down to the first floor. He meant to leap down and escape. A golden streak blazed past Sanford’s face at that very instant. Sanford, who had stopped, flinching back in alarm, looked back at the wall where the arc had embedded itself. His jaw dropped beneath his beard. A gold coin had buried itself deep into the brick and plaster. The quiet voice drew his head left at last. "Go on, keep moving." Ian was standing there, tossing and catching a handful of coins with one hand. Despite having floored countless men, the only sign of strain was a slightly heavier breath. He met Sanford’s eyes and smiled faintly. "Let’s see if I miss again."