I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 393

"This city appears to be sustained by dragon magic. How exactly do you control it?"

She turned to Ian with an enigmatic look before adding, "From what I know, dragon magic cannot be wielded without proper qualifications."

Ian's gaze shifted back to the Count as well, his mind briefly brushing over a newly gained skill he hadn't yet fully explored.

"You are quite knowledgeable in many areas. Yes, the great magic inscribed upon this city was designed with the utmost precision." His eyes drifted toward the ceiling. Though the interior stonework bore no visible magic circuits, his eyes seemed to pierce beyond, as if he could see the intricate spells enveloping the city’s defenses.

"The city functions autonomously to maintain its stability. We owe immense gratitude to the ancient dwarves and the unnamed dragon who left behind such a magnificent legacy."

Could it be Archeas?

Ian pondered silently. He couldn't think of another dragon willing to carve countless runes for the benefit of another species, even if they merely repurposed the ones already etched into their lair.

"Of course, as the Apostle has pointed out, it's true that we cannot directly control these spells," the Count continued, lowering his gaze back to Lucia.

"The dwarven craftsmen claimed it might have been possible in the past. But unfortunately, we currently have no way of accessing that knowledge. We can only speculate that somewhere in the city lies a control room hidden by the ancient dwarves."

"You haven't been able to find it, then?"

Lucia's comment elicited a shrug from the Count. "We've tried, but ultimately gave up. The suspected areas would require demolition, and there's a chance the runes might interpret such an act as an attack. This city is already one of the safest bastions in the Black Lands. There's no need to risk it unnecessarily."

A faint smile, tinged with fatigue and pride, brushed the Count's lips. "If Drag Velga weren't situated so far on the outskirts, it could have easily served as the central stronghold for all the others."

"I agree," Lucia said, nodding, which made the Count's smile more pronounced.

"Have you had your curiosities satisfied?"

"Thoroughly. Thank you for your kind answers."

"That's good to hear. Do you have more questions?"

The Count's gaze shifted casually toward Ian, who, after a brief pause, replied, "I can sum it up in three."

"That's quite a few," the Count muttered, rubbing his fingers across his brow. "I’ll try to keep my answers short. Considering all the work that awaits me, I need to conserve my energy."

"As long as they're accurate, that's all I need. Then, my first question," Ian said, nodding before raising his index finger. "Can we bathe whenever we want?"

The Count, hand still resting on his brow, stared at Ian with a slightly baffled expression. "That's... your first question?"

"It's a matter of utmost importance," Ian replied without hesitation.

The Count burst into laughter before nodding. "Of course. If you wish, this young lady here will prepare bathwater for you the moment you step out of this room."

Diana, who had been standing in silence, snapped her eyes wide open and turned toward the Count. "Are you telling me to attend to them... personally?"

"They're new here, and it's not a difficult task. You know as well as I do how short-handed we are."

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"What... Sigh..." Diana opened her mouth as if to protest further, but eventually pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

Ian, entirely unbothered, raised his middle finger—his second question. "Can I repair or purchase combat equipment? As you can see, my current situation isn't ideal."

"Hmm. You can receive basic supplies," the Count replied, his gaze sweeping over Ian's ragged appearance. "If they're not to your satisfaction, you are free to negotiate with the dwarven craftsmen yourself. But as you might expect, resources here are scarce, particularly weapons and armor."

In other words, take what's given or negotiate for better equipment on your own. It wasn't surprising; the authority over weapons and armor likely rested with the craftsmen themselves.

"That works," Ian replied. It was good news either way. He was sure he could find something in his pocket dimension to attract the dwarves.

"And finally—" Ian raised his ring finger, prompting the Count to exhale deeply, bracing himself for the next question. "Do people here age more slowly?"

The Count wasn't the only one startled; both Diana and Lucia turned to stare at Ian in unison.

He, however, continued speaking calmly. "Or is time flowing slower here compared to the outside?"

"What made you think that?" The Count blinked, his expression curious as he posed the question.

Ian stared at him steadily before replying. "Well, it's one thing for other races like fairies or dwarves, but the human residents here seem far younger than expected. The Black Wall has stood for over twenty years—nearly thirty, in fact. Doesn't that seem odd?"

Of course, one could argue that it was simply a matter of generational turnover, but if that were the case, there should have been more children running around.

"Even you, Your Excellency," Ian continued. "You might've been stranded here at a very young age, but if that were the case, you wouldn't be so well-versed in Imperial etiquette and knowledge."

The Count's expression shifted, a hint of genuine admiration crossing his face. "Your powers of observation are remarkable. You've realized something that took us a long time to understand."

His fatigue seemed to vanish momentarily as he spoke. "Yes, time in the Black Land flows far more slowly than it does outside."

"My goodness, Lu Entre." Lucia, who had been wide-eyed, finally let out a gasp.

The Count glanced at her before continuing. "Not all members of the Martyr Expedition make it to the strongholds safely. Many lose their lives at the borders, and others succumb to madness."

Memories of the game flooded Ian's mind—the struggles that began after he crossed the Wall with the expedition.

The Count's calm, even voice carried on. "Only those with resilient souls and an unyielding will to survive and meet the guides."

Ian understood the deeper meaning behind the Count's words.

They're naturally filtering out the weak.

It was a practical and understandable approach. It wasn't possible to traverse the dangerous border regions repeatedly, waiting endlessly for expeditions to arrive.

Nor did they have the resources or capacity to care for those who lacked the strength to contribute. Simply reaching the guides alive was enough to prove a basic level of qualification.

"And through them, we've received news from the outside. Important information was exchanged and verified over time. It was only after repeating this process several times that we realized the truth: time flows much faster outside than it does here."

So that's why he brought this up.

Ian let out a faint smile as he met the Count’s gaze. "So, do you know exactly how much of a difference there is?".

"We're not entirely certain," the Count admitted. "As you might imagine, it's difficult to measure the passage of time here. But by our reckoning, at most—"

"Ten years," Diana interjected softly.

Count nodded in agreement. "Yes. It feels like ten years have passed. Some say it's closer to fifteen, but no one claims twenty, let alone thirty years."

"If it truly had been that long, I would be well over sixty by now. As you can see, I am far from that age, wouldn't you agree?"

Ian nodded. Though the Count's gaunt, weary appearance betrayed his fatigue, he didn't look a day over fifty—certainly not sixty.

"So, at most, fifteen years."

"Yes. There are many theories about why this disparity exists, but no definitive answers."

Of course, it would be, Ian thought. It was likely a concept still in its infancy here.

Despite not having a deep understanding, Ian, as a modern individual, understood that time and space were fundamentally connected. If space was distorted, time would be as well. That was the essence of spacetime, after all.

"So, in the end—" Lucia, who had been alternating her gaze between Ian and the Count with a blank expression, finally moved her lips. "Are you saying that time outside flows at twice the speed of—or possibly even faster than—what it does here?"

The Count nodded. "That's correct. At least, that’s how it feels to us."

"My goodness. How is that even—" Lucia's voice trailed off as she let out a sigh of disbelief, only to suddenly widen her eyes in realization. Her head snapped toward Ian, clearly struck by a thought.

Knowing what she was thinking, Ian shook his head slightly as if to say, Not here. We'll talk later. Understanding the signal, Lucia let out an inaudible sigh but said nothing further.

"I believe I now understand why Sir Ian is called a superhuman," the Count remarked, his gaze lingering on Ian. "Drag Velga isn't a city that often interacts with outsiders, but I'm certain no one has realized this truth as quickly as Sir Ian has. In fact—"

His voice dropped slightly. "Few would manage it without even a change in expression."

"I was surprised when I first realized it too," Ian replied calmly. "Now, I've simply confirmed it."

"Even then, I doubt your expression changed much," the Count said with a faint smile before leaning back into his chair. "In any case, you have received answers to your three questions. I hope my responses, however brief, were sufficient."

"They were more than enough," Ian replied.

The Count's smile deepened slightly. "I, too, have confirmed that neither of you is ordinary. Considering that, I'll provide accommodations for you as honored guests. The quarters are on this same floor, and Diana will guide you there."

The Count turned to Diana, who reluctantly nodded, her expression reluctant. Only then did the Count rise from his seat. Ian followed suit with ease while Lucia, still shaken by the revelations, rose more slowly.

Rumble...

The orc, who had been standing by the door, pulled the lever on the wall, causing the stone door to open. The Count gestured toward the opening with his palm.

"Then, please rest well. If further cooperation is required, I'll summon you again."

"Understood," Ian replied.

"Thank you for the generous hospitality, Your Excellency. Until next time," Lucia said, still somewhat dazed, responded politely.

Diana clicked her tongue silently before stepping forward. "This way."

Lucia turned stiffly, her movements creaking like a wooden doll, and followed Diana out. As Ian stepped through the doorway, he glanced back at Count Graham. The Count, eyes half-closed, was already reaching for his pen with a tired hand.

I still have more questions.

But he knew he'd have more chances while staying here. Without hesitation, he left the office, trailing behind Diana and the orc guard as they retraced their steps down the corridor.

"Sir Ian!"

Lucia, who had been walking like an automaton, suddenly whipped her head around as they passed the central corridor. Her voice was low, but her eyes were wide with urgency.

"If what we just heard is true, then our plan—"

"Later." Ian's low voice cut her off as he glanced around, making it clear there were too many eyes on them. Then he met Lucia's gaze. "We'll talk about that later, Lucy. For now, get some rest and have a meal. And most importantly—"

His eyes shifted toward the back of Diana's head. "Take a hot bath first."

"Hot water? Do you have any idea how much trouble that—" Diana, spinning around mid-sentence, paused.

Ian's lips were already curved into a faint smirk. "So it is possible."

"Damn it," Diana muttered under her breath.