Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 90: The Extraordinary One

Lisir — who had been dragged away by the Swordmaster, Outer Sword — had returned, carrying the Blue Lotus, the sword known as Outer Sword’s beloved weapon.

The origin of that Blue Lotus was obvious beyond question. And yet, Shakan, representing the group, still deliberately asked:

"That Blue Lotus... is it the Outer Sword’s Blue Lotus?"

Well — there was no law saying there could only be one sword named Blue Lotus in the entire world.

Claiming blindly, without any basis, that "Actually, there are lots of Blue Lotuses!" would have been a ridiculous stretch — but compared to declaring "Lisir is carrying Outer Sword’s very own Blue Lotus!", it felt almost realistic.

Isn't it always like that?

"Ah, this? I just found it lying on the ground. Since it happened to have a blue lotus design, I figured I'd call it Blue Lotus." Even if Lisir had said something that absurd, they were already mentally prepared to accept it without protest.

"Ah, so there are multiple Blue Lotuses?"

"..."

However, Lisir’s guileless reply completely crushed their desperate hopes.

It seemed they had no choice but to accept the truth.

The sword Lisir carried really was the Outer Sword’s beloved weapon.

"How..."

The fiery personality of the flame mage was nowhere to be seen. The Red Tower Master’s disciple spoke in an unprecedentedly meek, unstable voice:

"How is it that you... no, you, sir... are carrying Outer Sword’s beloved sword?"

"...?"

What’s with the sudden honorifics?

Lisir decided he must have misheard, and focused on Balrod’s question.

"...Ha."

Staring down at the Blue Lotus, he let out a faint, helpless laugh.

‘Actually, the Blue Lotus is an Ego Sword. The “friend” Outer Sword said needed help was the soul sealed inside it. Outer Sword treated that soul as his master. When I touched the sword, that master spoke to me and asked me to become her companion. She turned out to be a murderous spirit. By accident, she became bound to me. I learned how to wield her power. I pretended to be Outer Sword’s master... Ah. Nope. No way I can explain this without sounding insane.’

There was simply no way Lisir could summarize that otherworldly chain of events in a way anyone would reasonably accept.

Thus, Lisir chose the best possible action available in this situation:

"I resolved a problem for him, and received this as a reward."

He smiled meaningfully and brushed the matter off.

Yes — this kind of incomplete communication might cause misunderstandings — but...

'It should be fine.'

Lisir thought optimistically.

After all — he was the village hero who had pacified the natural disaster known as Outer Sword!

Even if there were misunderstandings, he trusted they would eventually lead to a positive conclusion.

"...I see!"

"If you say so, then so be it."

"Ah, now I understand."

In reality — they accepted Lisir’s explanation in a positive light.

However — there were a few things Lisir had overlooked.

The first was: the weight the name "Outer Sword" still held in their minds, as they did not yet know how much Rodan had changed.

‘That madman... gifting away his beloved sword? Ridiculous...’

And the second:

‘Wait... did he take out Outer Sword? Like an exorcism against a demon!?’

They were beginning to reconsider the weight of the name "Lisir" itself.

Lisir was unaware — of how much his reputation had already been exaggerated(?) among them.

Thus, having left the interpretation to them, they naturally arrived at the conclusion:

"Lisir defeated Outer Sword and stole his beloved sword!"

Of course — they hadn’t reached full certainty yet.

It was true Lisir had repeatedly committed acts that defied common sense.

But defeating Outer Sword and seizing his sword — was on a whole different scale.

Such a feat would require overwhelming power, not tricks or luck.

For a young magician like Lisir, it should have been almost impossible.

No — not almost. Absolutely impossible.

Just to be sure, they tried gauging Lisir’s mana.

However, Lisir’s mana was seamlessly blended with his being, making it difficult ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ to estimate — a clear sign that he had achieved "personalization" of his mana at the Sixth Circle level.

For someone of his age to have reached the Sixth Circle... was already astonishing.

But—

"Well, Sixth Circle... it’s impressive, but..."

They had already come to accept that anything was possible when it came to the name "Lisir."

To reach the Sixth Circle at his age — would earn you the title of genius anywhere.

And for Lisir — it felt believable.

But beyond that?

"Even for him, that's impossible..."

Even now, it was difficult for them to fully accept it.

While exact estimation was impossible, a rough judgment could be made.

Judging from his mana, they concluded Lisir was at the middle stage of the Sixth Circle.

"Could he be faking it to hide even greater strength?"

They forcibly ignored the absurd possibilities that popped into their heads.

"Maybe... Outer Sword just lost his mind for a moment and gave it to him."

Thus, they reached a conclusion.

"The fact that Outer Sword gave away his beloved sword... Just what in the world did you do?"

It was at that moment — when the distance between them and Lisir was about to recover.

***

[Experience Points are being distributed.]

[These are already bound to you.]

[Thus, distribution target is limited.]

[Experience distribution target: Self]

***

Spurt.

A small cough.

Blood trickled from Lisir’s mouth.

Then from his nose, his eyes, his ears — every large opening on his face began to spill blood simultaneously.

"Li-Lisir!?"

"Are you alright!?"

"You—"

The unexpected scene sent everyone into a panic, rushing to check on him.

At that moment — there was one person who calmly tried to soothe them.

"Ah, everyone. It’s fine. This happens to me sometimes. No need to worry."

It was Lisir himself.

He spoke as if it were no big deal—while blood streamed from every hole in his face.

‘Did that encounter with Rodan just get processed as “normal” inside me...? It hurts like hell, but my mana and lifespan probably shot up again. Good. As long as I keep a straight face, I won’t scare them too badly.’

He didn’t realize — that the very fact he acted so nonchalantly while looking like that was terrifying them even more.

Fighting through the dizzying pain, Lisir slowly calmed his breathing.

"...!"

At that sight, the eyes of the three great powers widened as far as they could.

"H-Hey... I’m not just imagining things, right?"

Shakan’s voice prompted them to look at each other in disbelief.

Lisir’s mana — was expanding.

Not gradually — but explosively, like he had just swallowed an elixir.

‘All we did was talk...’

The first to snap out of the shock was Shakan.

Because another shock had taken hold of him.

"Wait, that’s... Blue Breathing...?"

Shakan, with a warrior’s trained senses, was the first to realize it:

Lisir was practicing Blue Breathing to suppress a mana overload.

"Blue Breathing...? Shakan, did you just say Blue Breathing?"

"Lisir... he’s using Blue Breathing to control his mana overflow...?"

"...But isn’t he supposed to be a magician?"

"...Exactly. He is a magician... right?"

"...?"

"..."

Silence descended over the room.

"Ah, it’s fine. Everyone! I apologize, but it seems I’m about to lose consciousness. Please handle things afterward."

Lisir said this lightly — then collapsed in place with a soft thud.

It was a scene perfectly matching his earlier claims of "This happens sometimes."

They immediately rushed to check on his condition—

But inwardly —

"Maybe... he really did overpower Outer Sword and take it."

Their thoughts drifted further and further away from Lisir himself.

***

"You’re awake, Sir Lisir!"

Lisir regained consciousness lying in the most luxurious guestroom of Ran’s mansion. Councilor Ran, who had been waiting at his bedside, immediately greeted him.

"How is your condition...?"

Something about the councilor’s somewhat reserved demeanor made Lisir’s expression turn complicated.

"Ah, is there something troubling you?"

"Should I say... it’s a problem?"

Since when the extreme honorifics?

Lisir considered the difference in their social positions for a moment.

Ran — the head of the prestigious Fellos family, a power among Bondales’ elite. Lisir — an honorary mage of the Tower, a bastard born into an ancient bloodline of Haiern.

'Isn’t it me who should be calling her “sir”?'

Lisir decided to set aside that trivial thought for now, and calmly met Ran’s gaze.

Although he had gained unexpected bonuses from this event, the true prize was impressing Ran, a key figure of the city’s power structure.

Gaining her favor would greatly expand his influence beyond the Magic Tower — maybe even open a path into the city’s noble society itself.

Better status, better income, better environment, and most of all — normalization.

Eyes gleaming with ambition, Lisir replied:

"I was just wondering... no, perhaps I should say, I’m concerned. I was afraid I might have inconvenienced you, Councilor, while you’re so busy with official duties..."

Lisir’s courteous behavior, befitting a young nobleman, immediately eased Ran’s awkwardness. She regained her poised elegance, smiling with effortless grace.

"An inconvenience, you say? I can assure you — there is nothing more important to me right now than you."

It wasn’t mere flattery.

The stunning performance(?) Lisir had delivered with the Blue Lotus — left a vivid, unforgettable impression on everyone present.

Ran had witnessed it firsthand.

"To think this young mage truly wielded that Outer Sword’s sword..."

Lisir didn’t know.

Ran — the master negotiator who played the city’s nobles and merchants like a grand chess game — was inwardly under extreme tension.

Thanks to that, he was now in the strongest possible bargaining position against her.

...In fact, if he pushed even slightly, he could extract far more than what was already being offered.

Ran was genuinely worried that might happen.

"Thank you for saying so," Lisir said with a warm smile.

Thankfully, Lisir’s attitude remained consistently polite and sensible.

'Still, I mustn’t lower my guard...'

Ran maintained her composed expression, glancing subtly around the room.

Guiding Lisir’s gaze intentionally, she spoke:

"How do you find the room? It’s the largest guestroom in the Fellos estate. We usually reserve it for visiting great nobles from abroad."

"Except for the slight guilt at using such a grand space... I would say — it’s perfect. A truly magnificent room."

"Hearing that from you makes me feel honored. Thank you, Lisir. May I call you that?"

"Of course, Councilor."

"Then, as thanks — although perhaps it sounds strange to say so — you may simply call me Ran."

"I tend to feel awkward when things get too informal, but since you offer it with such kindness, I’ll accept it and address you as Miss Ran."

"That’s perfectly fine, Lisir. Since you’ve just awakened, I imagine you must still be a little disoriented. Would you mind if we moved directly to business?"

"Not at all."

That was the signal. Ran’s atmosphere shifted — her posture grew more formal, befitting her office.

"In this affair, your actions were extraordinary. Had it not been for you, Bondales and its citizens would have suffered greatly. Allow me to express my gratitude on behalf of Bondales. I swear upon my name — and the name of Fellos — that you will be properly rewarded."

"Just hearing that makes my heart race. Normally, I don’t expect much in life — but I guess, Councilor, you truly are different."

"..."

At Lisir’s playful remark, Ran covered her mouth with a sleeve, subtly hiding her smile.

Such remarkable ability. Such refined manners.

In Ran’s eyes, he had to be the scion of some distinguished house.

And yet, strangely — none of the usual arrogance or childishness that often clung to young nobles was present in him.

Despite possessing talents leagues above his peers.

Ran’s gaze toward the young mage grew more intrigued by the second.

"I must work to meet your expectations then," she said. "I will expedite the conclusion of these matters as quickly as possible, so that I can deliver what I promised."

She smiled.

"So, Lisir — if you don’t mind, would you stay here at the Fellos estate until everything is finalized? It won’t take long."

"I understand."

Having received the answer she wanted, Ran left the room with light steps.

Left alone, Lisir rose from bed and glanced around.

At that moment, a voice called out:

— Ssir! Are you truly alright!? To think you are being held captive inside this pigsty of human filth...!

It came from a gray crystal sphere on the table.

"If I leave now, I doubt I’ll find lodgings better than this."

— Wait a moment! Upon second glance, this place is quite splendid! To think these human vermin possessed such aesthetic sense! Most impressive!

"Heh."

Lisir chuckled as he approached the table, looking at the absurd demon trapped inside the crystal.

In the earlier conversation, Ran had casually promised that after the situation settled, ownership of Dangaléon’s seal stone would be formally transferred to him.

Adding to that, he now also possessed the second seal stone recovered from Dranoff.

In other words — Lisir was effectively becoming Dangaléon’s master(?).

He hesitated for a moment.

Should he be happy about that?

'Well, he’s still a high-grade demon. He might come in handy someday.'

In any case — now the real business began.

Lisir approached the Blue Lotus, which was carefully laid at one side of the room, and drew it.

"Hey."

No response from the blade’s master.

Lisir sighed, closed his eyes, and entered his inner world.

***

"Eh?"

The moment Lisir stepped inside his inner world—the short-haired murderer pounced on him, exploding into motion as if she had been waiting for this very second.

Klanah tackled him mercilessly, driving a sword into his solar plexus without hesitation.

She smiled triumphantly for one split-second— until she saw the blade dissolve into dust the instant it touched him.

"...The welcome is a bit rough."

Lisir used her moment of confusion to counter.

Klanah sneered — but in her killer’s eyes, Lisir’s movements were almost laughably simple and slow.

"...!?"

And yet — despite that clumsiness — Klanah found herself effortlessly pinned.

In a brief scuffle, Lisir had seized her arm and thrown her to the ground.

"You little... You little bastard!!!"

The murder spirit thrashed like a trapped beast, howling in fury.

In reality, she could have easily flung off Lisir’s physical body — but here, pinned to the floor, she could do nothing but writhe.

"What the hell is this!?"

"‘Master.’ Your greeting is a little too enthusiastic. Or... is this your way of welcoming a pupil? I’m starting to worry about my future."

"Shut up! Who the hell do you think is your master!?"

"Oh, come on now. Weren’t you the one who asked me to become your disciple?"

"You lunatic...!!!"

If Lisir had shown even a hint of genuine reverence toward her, Klanah would have gladly twisted it against him.

But that infuriatingly calm tone. That smiling, unfazed expression.

She knew.

He would never mistake the nature of their relationship. He would never leave an emotional opening she could exploit.

The murder spirit who had toyed with countless prey — instinctively understood.

In this relationship, she was the one being hunted.

"In that case, 'Master.' Would you mind teaching me about this sword?"

"..."

A small shift rippled through her body.

"Oh?"

Lisir gave a small exclamation.

A brilliant, subtle movement.

Before, Klanah’s arm had been pinned — yet now her fist was already shooting toward Lisir’s face.

A surprise attack.

— Tap.

If not for that absurd sound effect, it might have landed.

Lisir casually caught her fist, laid it gently back atop her own chest, and patted it like one would a mischievous pet.

"Uuuuugh—! Uuuugh!"

Klanah’s face burned red with humiliation.

"Master — oh, right, I still don't know your name. What's your name?"

"Someone like you doesn’t deserve to know! I am Klanah!"

"Klanah, huh."

"Aaaaaargh!!!"

Driven half-mad with rage, the murderer bit down hard on her own tongue.

— Chomp.

Yet even that produced only an absurdly cute sound.

"Klanah. My name is Lisir."

"I don’t care about your damn name!"

"What’s my name again?"

"Lisir!!!"

"Forgive me if I’m out of line, but isn’t it a bit much for your words and actions to be this inconsistent?"

"Please... Please shut that damn mouth of yours... Before I kill you!!!"

Klanah leaned in, baring bloodshot eyes full of killing intent.

The true killing intent of the Murder Spirit of the Blue Lotus — a formless violence that once made even contemporary Swordmasters shudder.

Faced with that, Lisir merely grinned.

He leaned his forehead against hers, smiling.

"Alright then. Enough chit-chat. Let’s begin."

"...!"

Instinctively, Klanah pulled back.

The world flipped.

Before she knew it, she was standing opposite Lisir — a wooden sword in hand.

"...Ha... Hahahahaha!"

Klanah burst into crazed laughter.

Her face weary with exhaustion, she performed a lazy, careless strike.

And in that moment—

***

[Affinity increases.]

[7%]

***

A sudden, foreign sensation hit her. One that could almost be called... happiness.

Overwhelmed, Klanah collapsed to her knees.

"...?????"

Pure confusion spread across her face. A faint blush colored her cheeks.