Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 105: Oh, Right

Gaderok fiddled with the Eye of Black Flame hanging from his ear.

It wasn’t, as usual, to send some signal or warning.

What the hell is this! What the hell is going on!!!

He was barely restraining the urge to tear the earring from his ear on the spot.

The gold bracelet that converted its wearer’s life force into mana—the "Golden Veins" Gaderok had earned by trading away a huge portion of his life—was both his ultimate move and his final gambit.

Now that he had used the Golden Veins, he had to achieve his goal no matter what: to expand and secure his power base.

And that goal was right in front of him. He could feel the crowd falling back into subjugation, dominated by fear of him.

But...

This damn earring had ruined everything.

And it wasn’t the first time.

Come to think of it, it had been like this from the very beginning.

When the fire that burned Brimport suddenly vanished.

When Dejon’s bodyguard was suddenly set ablaze.

Whenever the situation was flowing smoothly, something would go awry—like clockwork—shifting the momentum in that bastard’s favor.

And now... that tendency had reached its peak.

“Shit, what do we do...? Should we help Gaderok—”

“Help Gaderok, my ass, you hear that demon voice just now!? Gaderok’s a goddamn warlock! Stick with him and we’ll all end up demon feed!”

“Wh-What if he’s been controlling us all along with black magic!?”

The whispers came from among Gaderok’s own subordinates.

The fear they held toward their leader no longer birthed reverence or loyalty. It was now pure, unfiltered terror.

They could understand a criminal chasing wealth and power—but they could not understand a warlock who worshipped demons.

Gaderok could feel it clearly.

Everything was over.

No matter how this ended, his faction would collapse beyond repair.

The old Gaderok would have lost his mind with rage at that realization. But the Gaderok of now was different.

“Listen!!!”

Because he was already far past the point of rational thought, completely paralyzed by rage.

His mind was filled with only one thing: the need to kill that bastard who’d driven the situation this far.

For that reason, Gaderok welcomed the current misunderstanding. If they believed he was a warlock, they'd be more likely to avoid him than to confront him.

“My goal right now is one thing only!!! To kill that bastard city council deputy! I swear on my magic! I’ll stake not just my life, but even my soul—I will kill him!!! If I fail in life, I’ll become a wraith and finish the job!!! Anyone unrelated—get the fuck out!!!”

Gaderok screamed with bloodshot eyes, his voice twisted with hatred, and unleashed the full power of his 7th Tier aura.

It was an unstable power, a byproduct of fleeting and borrowed strength.

Clatter clatter.

Unrefined energy rocked the room. The table quivered, the windows trembled.

It was a spectacle more than sufficient to reignite the fear of warlocks.

“H-Hurk...!”

“D-Demon!!!”

The others in the room—criminals, far too weak to withstand the pressure of a 7th Tier mage—turned pale and fled without looking back.

Out of the dozens who had followed Gaderok and Dejon, only five remained.

“...”

Even those five backed away slowly, unable to hide their unease.

“A wise choice, you worms!”

A chill, shaped like flame, shot upward and froze the roundtable where the dominators had gathered.

Gaderok burst into laughter and slammed his fist onto the frozen table.

The ice shattered, sending shards flying.

“Back up!”

“Get down, it’s dangerous!”

The bodyguards behind the dominators rushed forward to protect them.

“Sir Lisir!”

Dogal, who had also moved to shield him, froze mid-step—because none of the shards had flown in his direction.

The meaning behind Gaderok’s action was crystal clear.

Everyone but Lisir—stay out of it.

“Saint, this way...!”

“Let’s step back for now!”

“Lady Brimport!”

The bodyguards quickly led the dominators out of the hall and into the corridor.

And so, in the vast room, only Gaderok and Lisir remained.

***

Rock, a warrior of the merchant guild Golden Barley, was currently serving as bodyguard to the Saint, attending the back-alley summit at the desperate request of his lady, Karia.

“Let’s go.”

He pressed the Saint urgently.

“That bastard’s serious. He’s a warlock ready to die. Getting caught up in that’ll do none of us any good. We need to withdraw—for now.”

Everyone nearby nodded in agreement.

The dominators and their bodyguards. Even Gaderok and Dejon’s remaining subordinates.

“...No.”

But the Saint shook her head.

Her voice, ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ neutral and mysterious beneath her iron mask, flowed out evenly.

“I will stay—and aid him.”

Then she looked to the Master at her side. And the Master, too, nodded in agreement.

“I’ll stay and help him as well.”

“Wait—”

Rock held his forehead in his hand.

He was, first and foremost, a warrior of Golden Barley. If the Saint, an outsider to the guild, got herself killed messing with a warlock, that wouldn’t trouble him all that much.

But Lady Karia, who was completely infatuated with the Saint...

She’d either try to kill me, or hang herself if she couldn’t...!

Just picturing her state made Rock shiver with dread.

Then the Master spoke.

“If we abandon the council deputy and save only ourselves, that’ll be a problem in its own way.”

“And you’re saying we should just fight that warlock bastard head-on!?”

“That’s right. If we all work together, it’s totally doable.”

“Sure! It’s possible, but—”

Rock glanced toward the hall.

Inside, Gaderok and the deputy were locked in a silent standoff.

Gaderok had taken no action, wary of the deputy’s hidden power and the others who hadn’t yet fully left the area.

But that pressure—his aura, his mana—it was a clear threat.

Rock was certain.

“Didn’t you hear him!? That guy’s lost it! If he charges in for real, that deputy’s dead, and he’ll take one or two more of us with him on the way!”

“...”

“...”

The Saint and the Master—Rona and Pien—wore grim expressions beneath their masks.

Because the truth was—they already knew. Gaderok wasn’t actually a warlock.

If he had been, he would have lost all power the moment he clashed with Lisir.

That knowledge was the source of their torment.

A 7th Tier mage...

They understood at least a fragment of the nature of Lisir’s power.

That strange, sacred force—it only worked against alien, twisted energies.

But against pure force?

The man facing Gaderok now—Lisir—was just one mage. And in their last encounter, he had only reached the 5th Tier.

Of course! That absurd man might have broken into the 6th Tier in such a short span—

But even so, it wouldn’t be enough to overcome this.

That’s why—

They thought to themselves.

While Lisir had remained in the Tower, they had wandered the outside world. Gained experience beyond what life in the Tower could compare to.

And based on that experience, Lisir had achieved growth he himself likely didn’t even realize.

I have to protect him.

Resolve filled both their eyes. And with it—the depth of their anguish only grew deeper.

Rock’s point was valid. Indeed, if they all worked together, they could bring Gaderok down. But that process would inevitably involve casualties.

Could Lisir, who—at best—was only just stepping into the early phase of the 6th Tier, truly defend himself against a 7th Tier mage willing to die?

Please...!

The two of them turned over thoughts at a frantic pace.

Right now, while Gaderok was still wary of Lisir’s unknown power and too hesitant to act recklessly—this might be their last chance to get him out alive. If they let this moment slip—

“...!”

At that instant, Rona and Pien both inhaled sharply. So did Rock, and everyone else.

Lisir. In the midst of the standoff, he was the one to strike first.

He formed a bullet of mana and fired it at Gaderok. It was a remarkably precise control of mana—but it dispersed into nothing with a single lazy wave of Gaderok’s hand.

That was how vast the difference in their power was.

Watching the scene unfold, the warrior Rock sighed inwardly.

Ah, shit. Now he’s the one making the first move? So he really is just some clueless rookie mage...

Two of Rock’s convictions were reinforced at once:

That Gaderok must not be fought. That this man was an even worse monster than he’d feared.

The moment Gaderok deflected the spell, a mana shield had rippled around his body. Even at a glance, Rock could tell how fortified it was.

He’s still on guard against the deputy’s hidden power...

Though Gaderok was excited—recklessly so, having cast his life aside—he was still rational enough to act with calculation. And Rock could find no opening in him whatsoever.

Just then, a commotion rose again from the hall.

The city council deputy attacked Gaderok again. Exactly the same way as before.

We’re done for...

Rock glanced nervously at the Saint and exhaled in despair. No matter how he looked at it, there was no way the deputy was getting out of this alive.

He began casually searching for a route to escape.

***

—What the hell are you doing!?

Clarna, observing from within Lisir’s inner world, screamed in horror at his actions.

—That man has, however unstable, broken through the wall of the 7th Tier! You can’t possibly fight him head-on! You need to retreat—now!

Lisir, deep down, nodded to her words.

He could feel it. Gaderok’s presence and power—oppressive, absolute. He knew better than anyone that brute force would never overcome this opponent.

And yet—why?

Even knowing that clearly, with perfect rationality... Why was his body moving in defiance of it?

It’s possible.

Because instinct was screaming at him.

Look at his state.

Gaderok was hyper-aware of Lisir’s unknown strength. He was watching the people still lingering in the hallway, unsure if they might interfere.

He was guarding against everything—and from the outside, that vigilance looked flawless.

No.

But to Lisir’s eyes, Gaderok’s state looked entirely different.

That’s not solid—it’s sloppy. He’s looking the wrong way. He’s ignoring what actually matters.

Lisir felt the weight of Blue Lotus hanging at his waist.

He thinks I’m just a mage. He’s utterly defenseless against my attack—as a swordsman.

His gaze scanned the mana shield wrapped around Gaderok’s body.

There’s no way I can break through that with magic.

He’d gained a wealth of real-world experience in mage duels through his sparring with Meltas.

He understood all too well how difficult it was to penetrate a mana shield.

Even between equals, breaking a shield in one blow was incredibly difficult.

And here he was—barely in the late 6th Tier.

Was it even possible to break through the shield of a 7th Tier?

In one strike?

Impossible.

Logic screamed.

Completely possible.

And instinct—as always—voiced the exact opposite.

Instinct and sensation clasped hands and led Lisir forward, guiding his next action.

In doing so, everything Lisir had lived through was pulled forth.

Experiences that had nothing to do with magic.

Swinging a blade until his body gave out in the training fields of Vendelga.

Catching a fellow apprentice knight off guard with a feint during sparring.

Following in the footsteps of the Murder Fiend, learning from her brutal path.

It was a strange feeling.

To Lisir, it felt like some invisible “command key” had been activated in his mind.

Though his body was moving in a way he’d never practiced, his mind knew exactly what to do.

Lisir crouched low.

Just as he had when firing off the mana bullet before.

“Oh, that again!? Fine, hide your power to the bitter end, huh!? Let’s see it, then! Let’s see what kind of great power you’ve been hiding so desperately! Let’s see if your precious Black Flame saves you again!!!”

Lisir didn’t interrupt. He let Gaderok rant, let him build up all the wariness and battle-readiness he had.

Wariness directed only at mages.

***

[Trait Activated]

[Trait: Dancing Iron (S)]

***

Lisir could see it—clear as day.

The gap in Gaderok’s defense. It was wide open.

The depth of his breath. The blink of his eyes. Even those tiny changes created a perfect opening, one that would last just an instant.

Lisir’s senses didn’t miss that instant.

His crouched body sprang forward.

Exactly like when he had unleashed the mana bullet with a swing of his arm.

“Hah!”

That—was what Gaderok saw. The city council deputy, once again firing a mana bullet.

This vile motion deceived the target completely, humiliating them in the process.

Lisir’s body mirrored the movements of the Murder Fiend.

He was already gone from where Gaderok’s gaze had fixed.

His leading foot propelled him forward with a gliding motion. In his hand now—unsheathed without a sound—was Blue Lotus.

The blade had already swung.

There wasn’t much time to deceive an opponent’s perception. And the distance he could cover in that tiny time frame wasn’t great, either.

Normally, such a strike during such a short deception would never land. But the Murder Fiend had discovered how to overcome the normal.

A carefully manipulated gap. And what bridged that slight shortfall was nothing other than pure, focused force.

The blade in Lisir’s hand—its edge extended ever so slightly.

A razor-honed aura—Sword Qi.

A technique permitted only to swordsmen who had stepped into the superhuman realm.

“Hrk...!”

Gaderok clutched his neck.

Had he realized in time and focused his mana barrier on that single point, Lisir’s first and final strike might have been blocked.

But even a mage’s instincts couldn’t follow the movement that had once fooled Swordmasters.

Gaderok’s throat split open.

From that wound, blood and breath began to leak.

The blow of a Murder Fiend—turning her prey into helpless game.

Clarna Style: Breath Snatch.

Lisir. For a single moment, his strike had brushed the realm of the Swordmaster.

“Now!!! I’m going down—handle the rest!!!”

Having poured everything into that one strike, Lisir coughed up blood and collapsed.

“...”

Despite his urgent plea, none of those in the hallway moved.

They could only stare, stunned, at the scene before them.

Thankfully, that hesitation didn’t lead to disaster.

“Grgh...!”

Lisir’s strike had been deeper than he expected.

Gaderok, still clutching his neck, could no longer hold himself upright—and collapsed.

At last, the Saint and the Master stared at Lisir and muttered as if something had come back to them.

“Oh, that’s right...”

***

The underworld fell.

And amid its collapse, tales of a single man’s deeds began to quietly spread throughout all of Bondales.