RD | Chapter 4

“W-Whaaaat?!”

“We’re dead! We’re so dead!”

“We survived!”

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The people who had been forced to follow the tyrant’s orders shouted in disbelief. They looked at Ian with a peculiar look..

There are two types of royal bastards: those acknowledged by the king and those who aren’t.

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Ian was, of course, the second type. His mother passed away early, leaving him to grow up in the royal court. However, he never caught the king’s attention and was denied any proper title. People didn’t have a proper fitting title to address him by, so they simply called him “Lord Ian.”

Everyone thought he was just a useless man with a good-looking face, but who knew he’d turn out to be such a tactician?

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Though his personality seemed much dirtier and more violent than rumors suggested, at the very least, he’s the benefactor who had just saved their lives.

The people came to their senses and prostrated themselves.

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“Long live Lord Ian!”

“Thank you for saving us, Lord Ian!”

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Ian brushed off their cheers with an uninterested expression. He held his head like someone suffered from a headache—because, frankly, his head really did hurt.

‘This was no joke…’

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Something was off. Was this really a dream?

The smell of burning fish assaulted his nose. The thought of it being the actual smell of burning creatures with fish-like torsos made him want to retch.

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He was surprised that the others didn’t seem fazed.

Confusion was one thing, but there were tasks to complete.

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“Sema.”

“Yes, Lord Ian! Just give me your orders! What should I do now?”

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The mage rushed over, practically wagging his tail. He was overwhelmed with emotion, having saved lives for the first time using his magic. What kind of instructions would his fearsome yet competent master give him next?

Ian gestured with his chin toward the passage littered with the burnt corpses of monsters.

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“Splash some water over there. Some of them might still be alive.”

“Yes. Should I kill them?”

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“…”

Ian stared at Sema’s innocent face for a moment.

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“No. I have a use for them.”

The lack of hesitation these characters had about killing was one thing, but Ian had something to test.

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A short while later, Sema drenched the corridor with a failed <Water Ball>, leaving a soggy, sooty mess. From the wet ashes, the scales of half-burnt monsters began to twitch.

Ian touched one of them. It was cold and reeked of fish. Gritting his teeth, he focused on opening the dungeon management window.

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‘Register.’

This game had a system where captured enemies could be utilized as dungeon defense forces.

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Right before his eyes, a light shimmered over the monster’s body and disappeared.

Ding!
[Warikka Warrior #1 has been registered in the waiting list.]

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“W-What did you do?! The monster disappeared! Is that magic? Lord Ian, are you secretly a mage? I knew it!” Sema exclaimed in shock.

Ian didn’t answer.

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‘It works.’

This ominous vivid dream had adopted every single system from <Reverse Dungeon>.

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But no matter how much he thought about it, this wasn’t a dream.

Ian wasn’t used to seeing life ending in front of him. Killing it himself was even harder. The most he’d ever killed were bugs, and the only time he’d burned flesh was when cooking freshly-butchered animals.

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Yet, the deaths of those monsters had an unbearable sense of reality.

‘I can’t let this get to me.’

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Ian tried to brace himself. But his thoughts always circle back to the same question.

Was this really a dream?

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‘Ah…’

It didn’t seem like it.

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Ian, being a modern-day guy, usually killed time during commutes by reading webtoons. He is even familiar with the title people use to describe such stories, for instance…

‘Game possession.’

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The kind of tales where game addicts found themselves inside their favorite games and thrived. Wasn’t that the kind of story this was?

Ian felt unjustly wronged. He wasn’t even a hardcore gamer, nor was he obsessed with this game. So why was this happening to him?

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Above all, he didn’t have the confidence to accomplish the Ian route in one go!

“Damn it!”

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Thud!

Ian slammed his fist against the wall. It hurt like his hand was breaking. Furious, he shouted even louder.

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“Status window! Game over! End game! Hey! I’m done with this!”

“I-Lord Ian!?”

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Ding!
[Reputation is decreasing.]
[People are becoming uneasy about your actions.]

Ding!
[Reputation is decreasing.]
[People are starting to label you as ‘unstable.’]

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Ding!
[Character]
‘Tyrant’ Ian (★★★★☆)

[Reputation]
Tyrant, Bastard, Playboy, Lavish, Hedonist, Strategist, Mentally Unstable (+NEW)

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The mentally unstable tyrant Ian became the master of a small dungeon, commanding twenty-one residents and four monsters.

—

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Meanwhile, in the forest.

Another Warikka pursuer led a split-off group of warriors into the woods.

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A few warriors were enough to hunt humans. Soon as the human scent split, they decided to divide their forces and pursue both directions.

The pursuer who chose the forest predicted that more humans would have fled into the woods than into the cave. His skin was more sensitive than that of his cave-bound counterpart.

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With his heightened senses, he detected not just the damp aroma scent of humans, but also that of a beast. It was a creature that humans tamed and rode, and wherever it was, dozens of humans would cluster around it.

He was a clever pursuer. Signaling to his warriors, he led them into the forest.

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Screech!

His instincts were spot-on. The payoff was a feast for the warriors who followed him.

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“Aaaah!”

“Save me!”

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“It hurts! It hurts!”

The high-pitched screams faded, leaving the forest in silence. All that could be heard was the sound of his comrades eating.

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Screech?

No, wait.

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The Warikka pursuer paused mid-meal. His sharp teeth stopped tearing flesh, and his scales opened slightly, absorbing the moisture clinging to the leaves. His body swelled momentarily as he soaked in the water. A gust of wind blew toward him.

The pursuer let out a laughing noise.

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Screech!

There was a living human nearby. Hiding behind a tree, holding their breath, waiting for the predators to leave.

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Although the human he already killed was enough to satisfy, the pursuer never spared prey. He was a greedy monster. Why should he stop when there was more blood and flesh to take?

Leaving his feasting comrades behind, he slipped deeper into the forest. He had no intention of sharing his discovery with them. Venturing further, he spotted a human walking from afar.

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Dressed entirely in white, the human didn’t even attempt to conceal their presence.

The pursuer froze mid-step. For a moment, he didn’t realize he had stopped.

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‘Why am I not moving?’

The monster wondered.

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He mustn’t move. Don’t let it see you.

His heart pounded. A primal warning surged through him, a signal from the very core of his being.

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But the monster failed to understand.

All he saw was prey—a human he had to devour.

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Yet, he had a gut feeling that taking it alone was impossible…

Screech!

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Abandoning his greed, he shot a stream of blood into the sky.

Pop!

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The blood exploded mid-air, and the response from his comrades rippled through his scales as they quivered.

Only then did the pursuer observe the human closely. The white-clad figure held a small human in their arms. It was the dying prey he had tracked.

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Then… where didthe white human come from?

How had it concealed itself from his senses?

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At that moment, the white human spoke.

“Monster.”

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That word was the last thing the Warikka pursuer remembered.

He collapsed, split cleanly in two, spraying blood from head to toe.

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—

The paladin, blessed by the gods, thought to himself.

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‘Foul creatures.’

Those beings were forsaken by the gods. They had lost their faith and virtue, straying far from divinity.

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The paladin loathed monsters.

Hearing the signal from the dead monster, its comrades swarmed in. But the paladin didn’t budge.

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Kraargh!

A monster lunging at him didn’t even realize it had been cleaved in two until its head and body fell apart.

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Clang.

The paladin sheathed his sword.

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“Am I too late?”

Having departed the Vatican as soon as he received the Ferentz Kingdom’s plea for aid, he arrived only to find that those who called for help were already gone. The stench of blood there was too vile for it to have come from just one or two beasts. Countless of human lives had ended in this place.

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Paladin Keith gently propped the priest he carried against a tree and let a drop of holy water fall onto his lips.

The glowing liquid flowed into the priest’s mouth, and miraculously, he opened his eyes.

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“Priest, are you conscious?”

The priest, on the verge of death moments ago, saw a knight clad in white armor. The knight’s platinum blonde hair glinted in the backlight like a halo, and his deep blue eyes seemed shadowed, dark and profound.

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He was so breathtakingly beautiful that the priest couldn’t tell if this was heaven or the mortal world. But the armor he wore unmistakably belonged to the Vatican.

“W-Who are you…? Did the church send you?”

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“Yes, they did.”

“You came to save us! Ah, thank the gods!”

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“No, I was too late. You’re the only survivor. I’m sorry.”

The paladin bowed his head in sincere apology. His heartfelt demeanor left the priest flustered and overwhelmed.

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Unintentionally, the priest began to speak words he hadn’t intended to voice.

“No, you did nothing wrong, sir knight. We should never have abandoned the castle in the first place. His Majesty said that if we lived, the kingdom could survive, but what of the people who stayed behind, trusting in His Majesty? What sin had they committed to deserve being abandoned? We are all guilty of leaving them. Ah, surely, this is the divine punishment.”

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“Is that true?”

The paladin’s voice grew cold. He reached out and grabbed the priest by the neck.

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