Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 85: Swordmaster Rodan (1)

Oh, that insane bastard?

Wait, what did I just say?

I'm sure I said "Outer Blade," didn't I?

Eh, you probably misheard.

How could I dare to call a monster who reached the realm of superhuman mastery with just a sword—

Ah, by the way, it's better not to use the title "Outer Blade" in front of that man—Rodan.

People who don't know better might simply think, "Oh, he’s missing one eye? So that’s why he's called the Outer Blade!"

But in truth, that name carries a far more complex meaning.

When Rodan left his family, he crossed swords with his mother, the family head.

At that time, he lost one eye but succeeded in severing his mother's arm.

One eye missing—so "Outer." One arm severed—so "Outer." His father officially declared him disowned—again, "Outer."

On top of that, because of his insane temperament, no one stayed by his side—so "Outer." And because he stubbornly wielded a sword with all its teeth knocked out—yet again, "Outer."

Among the countless meanings packed into that name, the only positive one is the "sword" part—meaning his attainment of Swordmastery.

There’s even a joke that sprang up: since everything he does causes others to question or complain, it’s not "Outer Blade" but "Why? Blade."

Haha... ha.

I know. It’s a horrible joke. When I first heard it, I made the exact same face as you’re making now.

But it's also undeniably true.

Now, when people hear "Outer Blade," they think first of his crazy actions, not the missing eye.

He’s someone you can't understand with common sense.

And the fact that he enjoys that perception makes it even worse.

They say that being outside of common sense is proof of being extraordinary, right?

If you ever meet him one day, you’ll find yourself thinking only one thing:

What kind of crazy bastard is this?

Of course, try not to show it too much.

This madman very rarely attaches meaning to other people.

Think about it—how boring must the world seem from the perspective of a lunatic like him?

People probably look like pebbles on the roadside to him. That’s why he kicks them around without a second thought.

Yeah.

That’s the heart of the matter.

Don’t even think about pissing in the direction he’s facing.

Because the moment you cross his path, you’ll be kicked aside without hesitation.

Damn it... and for the record, that’s personal experience talking.

— The Crawling Library, Eloran

(Conversation Keyword: Seven Blades – Outer Blade)

***

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■ Dranoff

Level: 61 (65)

[Status: Maltiel's Blessing (Inactive), Mana Reflux]

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■ Rodan

Level: 70 (68)

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■ Dangaleon

Level: 32 (71)

[Status: ??? Energy (Active)]

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***

What kind of crazy bastard is this?

Rodan thought involuntarily as he witnessed the scene before him.

—Those eyes! How dare you show such insolent eyes to me and my Master! You worthless worm! If not for my current condition, you would already be groveling and begging for mercy!

"Dangaleon, calm down."

—But just look at those eyes! Daring to—

"I mean, I’m genuinely feeling a threat to my life here, so stop provoking him."

—Is that so? To my eyes, he does not yet seem to pose a real threat... but if you say so, Master!!!

The Burning Black Flame, Dangaleon.

Rodan savored that name for a moment.

To make sure his memory was correct.

If he remembered right, that name had been mentioned by Dranoff, the High Priest of the White Shadow Sect he was cooperating with.

For this ritual, they were supposed to use demon worshipers from another sect, and the demon those worshipers served was called Dangaleon.

And yet... Why was Dangaleon's sealed crystal now in that human’s hands?

No—he could accept that much.

But—

Following a human?

A demon worshiper.

An all-too-natural phrase.

After all, demons, in their arrogance, treated every other being as beneath them.

But a "human-following demon"?

What the hell was that? Why did that even exist? Even the sound of it was bizarre.

Weren’t they supposed to be immortal beings who couldn’t be subdued even by death?

Just what had been done to him?

"Hahh...!"

Shakan, still gripped by Rodan moments ago, gasped for air. Without realizing it, Rodan had loosened his grip.

For a brief moment, the conversation between the human and the demon-following demon had stripped the Swordmaster of control over his own body.

It was a power close to an authority.

Rodan stood in a daze, even as Shakan cautiously retreated back to her position.

"Are you all right?"

Lisir carefully asked as he approached Shakan.

"Yeah, thanks to you."

"I didn’t do anything, really."

Lisir gave a bitter smile.

Even in just a short exchange, the overwhelming gap in power was clear.

He mocked himself for his helplessness—that during this fight, all he could do was stand quietly behind the three giants.

"No..."

The three of them looked at Lisir with complicated expressions.

You're the one holding everything together, aren’t you?

***

At that moment—while the atmosphere had slackened thanks to Dangaleon and Lisir’s conversation—

"Urgh...!"

The sound of Dranoff regaining control reached their ears.

His mana, once tangled in the chaos of reflux, was steadily stabilizing in real time.

The three powerhouses’ expressions twisted with alarm.

It was a movement entirely focused on recovery, abandoning all defense and vigilance.

Clearly, Dranoff was showing open confidence—that as long as Rodan stood in front of him, the three wouldn't dare act rashly.

Even as Rodan lost himself in thought, his overwhelming presence continued to suppress the enemy.

If they tried to attack now, considering the Swordmaster’s mood, a counterattack would likely be instant.

But what if their target wasn’t Rodan?

What if they attacked Dranoff instead?

If they eliminated Dranoff, Rodan's sword would surely turn against them.

Charging them for killing an ally of the White Shadow Sect would make no sense logically—but according to rumors, the "Outer Blade" would be just the kind of lunatic to do it.

In that case—could Lisir persuade the Outer Blade?

***

To leave such a heavy burden on a young mage... absurd.

A voice echoed inside.

—Lisir!!!

Another voice, even stronger, overrode the first.

This was why you had to choose your companions wisely.

The giants who had clawed their way to the top by making only rational choices—at the brink of death, they abandoned reason and reverted to creatures who could only scream that single name.

***

The intervention of a force beyond reason!

The situation was dire.

And that meant they had to act even more aggressively.

After exchanging a glance, the three scattered in different directions.

The fire mage and the demon hunter launched a swift assault from wide angles.

Meanwhile, Shakan moved to block Rodan’s path.

Their movements were textbook-perfect, as if shouting: Even a Swordmaster can't cover everything!

They executed their coordination almost flawlessly.

No one would have guessed this was their first time working together.

If there was one problem—

It was that the Swordmaster’s reaction far exceeded anything they had anticipated.

"Hup...!"

Shakan's breathing abruptly stopped.

The Swordmaster's speed lightly surpassed the heightened perception she had mustered with all her might.

Long white hair fluttered before the beastkin's sharpened pupils.

Before she realized it, the Swordmaster had closed the distance right in front of her.

Defending was possible.

In other words, all she could do was defend.

The moment she set her stance, a familiar sensation returned.

—Boom!

The beastkin was once again kicked away by the Swordmaster’s foot.

This time, she managed to absorb the shock and maintain her posture—

"Shaka—"

—but at the end of her flight path stood the flame mage, who had just completed casting his spell.

The spear of flame that should have been hurled at Dranoff was intercepted by the beastkin's body instead.

—Boom!

The explosion of flame swallowed them both whole.

Meanwhile, at another angle, the demon hunter's specially crafted crossbow bolt raced straight for the High Priest’s forehead.

Following a perfectly drawn trajectory—

—it suddenly veered off course.

"What the—!"

A single pebble had shot through the air and knocked it down.

It had been held in the Swordmaster’s hand all along.

Why on earth had he been holding a pebble?

That question was answered almost immediately.

"Gah!"

It was like the shrapnel of an explosion.

Multiple pebbles, thrown from the Swordmaster’s hand, struck the demon hunter's body in several places.

Thanks to his reflexive concentration of mana on his vital points, he avoided lethal injury—but everywhere else, he was torn apart.

His left pinky finger was snapped off as if ripped out. One of his ears was torn away.

The sounds of rupture echoing from his body—he couldn't tell whether it was the pebbles striking, his skin splitting, or his bones breaking.

Agonizing pain flooded his entire body.

It was all he could do just to stay conscious.

The demon hunter’s next action was not to continue attacking but to retreat into a defensive stance.

"Cough! Damn it, Balrod! Are you okay!?"

"I should be asking you that..."

The same was true for the flame mage and the beastkin warrior.

Step, step.

Rodan approached Dranoff at a leisurely pace.

He casually kicked the stone floor.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Each kick carved out a depression in the floor.

Rodan bent down and scooped up a handful of pebbles from the hollow.

The three leaders found themselves feeling fear at an action so trivial it should have meant nothing.

Facing three enemies, the Swordmaster felt no need to draw his sword.

His brutishly strong body and his overwhelming mana were enough.

The unreasonable violence of a Swordmaster who had reached the realm of superhumanity through pure martial ability alone.

The three who had experienced it firsthand in a single exchange had no choice but to adjust their stances.

Not that they had even dared to imagine otherwise from the beginning, but now it was clearer than ever.

Under no circumstances must they engage the Swordmaster in direct combat.

Even running might not guarantee their survival.

But how?

The decision was not theirs to make.

That decision—

—You filthy scum!!! How dare you talk about someone's safety!!!

"..."

...belonged to someone else.

The tension that had stretched taut across the space deflated again at Dangaleon’s furious outburst.

The Swordmaster, at a loss for words, simply stared at the gray energy swirling inside the crystal.

—You, human swordsman! Even though my Master has extended a hand of mercy, you still cling to that filthy, loathsome demon worshiper!?

"No—"

Rodan almost interrupted without thinking.

You really shouldn’t call the demon worshiper names like that.

"I mean, shouldn't I at least keep my options open?"

Rodan added defensively, as if justifying himself.

Normally, Rodan would have subdued or killed everyone except Dranoff without so much as a word.

But the abnormal beings standing before him—the human-following demon and its master—were disrupting his rational thought.

How could he remain logical when beings who embodied irrationality itself stood right in front of him?

"You—what did you call yourself? Chu-in-ni?"

"Lisir!"

"Yeah, Lisir. Prove to me that you can help me. If you do that, I'll trust you."

—You pitiful worm! Did that worthless demon worshiper ever give you such certainty!? What will you do if my Master withdraws her favor because of your arrogance!?

"Lisir!"

—Master! Please do not tolerate this insolence any longer!

Argh.

And if I don't tolerate it, what exactly are you gonna do?

Lisir resisted the urge to retort and humored Dangaleon.

From observing the situation, he realized: acting shamelessly might work better than bowing down.

"No. Just as you said, there’s no guarantee that demon worshiper can truly help him. I want to save him from the clutches of an evil demon."

—As expected of you, Master!!! Exactly right! The only one who can save that blind fool from the evil touch of demons is you, Master!

"I'll do my best."

Wonderful.

Fantastic.

If someone else had said those words, it would’ve sounded like meaningless nonsense.

But coming from the one who had turned a demon into such a devout human-follower—it carried weight.

"Hmm..."

Even Rodan—and the three powerhouses—were feeling tempted by the words of the human-following demon and her master.

"Rodan—gah!"

Unable to hold back any longer, Dranoff abandoned even his breathing control and screamed.

As a result, his mana twisted into chaos again, and blood gushed from /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ every orifice of his face, but he paid it no mind.

If ever there was a moment to speak, even if it cost him his life at the hands of a demon, it was now.

"You don't need to listen to that insane creature! That thing is not Dangaleon!"

—You dare to deny me!?

"It’s not me denying you—cough!—it's yourself! Where is your demon’s pride, groveling and wagging your tail before a human!?"

—A pathetic worm like you, who can't even govern his own desires and thus grovels to demons, wouldn't understand!

"You dare to—cough! ugh!"

Dranoff’s mental turmoil further accelerated his mana reflux.

The mana he had painstakingly stabilized collapsed into an even worse mess.

In the end, the demon worshiper, who had tried desperately to maintain himself to the very last, finally lost his mind completely.

If things continued like this, it would only be a matter of time before the Swordmaster was swayed by those mad creatures' sweet words.

Before that happened, he had to act.

Thud!

Something stabbed into Dranoff’s thigh.

It was a black-bladed dagger he had drawn from his robes.

But he didn’t stop there—he stabbed the dagger into his body over and over again, soaking it with his blood.

Within the black blade, a thick, dark energy churned.

It was the sealing stone containing the demon Maltiel.

—That...! Master! You must stop him! He’s trying to summon the "Scream That Splits the Forest" into existence!

For once, Dangaleon’s voice was laced with rare panic and fear.

Dranoff was attempting to substitute countless rituals and sacrifices with his very existence.

For most demon worshipers, demon worship was merely a means to power.

Dranoff had been the same. And in that sense, what he was doing now was the very definition of madness.

What good would it do to gain the demon’s power if it consumed him completely?

But Dranoff no longer cared.

All that mattered to him now was ensuring this act brought about the worst possible disaster for his enemies.

The great Maltiel would not forget his devotion—he would surely bestow a new body upon him in return.

Even if he lost his current body, he believed he would be reborn anew.

Feeling something wrong, the Swordmaster belatedly grabbed Dranoff’s wrist and twisted it—but it was already too late.

O Scream That Splits the Forest...! Grant life to your faithful servant!

His cry had already reached the demon.

The greedy demon wasted no time.

"!!!"

For the first time, the Swordmaster’s relaxed expression disappeared.

He backed away from Dranoff with a movement that could almost be called desperate.

He flung the pebbles from his hand and reached for the sword at his waist.

Suddenly, the room felt filled with dampness.

A sticky, viscous darkness swept over the room.

Like a tongue rolling a piece of meat inside a mouth.

Soon, the blood spilling from Dranoff began to take on a life of its own, climbing over his body.

It looked like veins protruding from his skin, or perhaps the leaves of a blood-fed coniferous tree.

"Rodan... Curse your own complacency..."

The demon worshiper burst into a crazed laugh.

The savoring was over. The demon made its decision.

Slither

Splatter

"...?"

The blood that had been painting Dranoff’s skin suddenly lost its form and collapsed.

The demon had made its decision.

It didn’t want to be reborn here.

The black energy lingering around the dagger dissipated.

Maltiel abandoned most of his power and transferred his consciousness elsewhere—to another sealing stone hidden somewhere in the world.

Dranoff’s body trembled violently.

The blood jets spraying from the wounds he had made for the demon grew even more ferocious.

"You, you trash!!! You lowly worms groveling in the dirt!!! I, I will definitely become a demon and deny your very existences—!!!"

Dranoff’s body collapsed with a dull thud.

The cause of death: mana reflux, bleeding from self-inflicted wounds, and blood pressure-induced hemorrhaging.

The curses he spat with his last breath were not for his enemies—but for the demons he had once worshiped.

"..."

The Swordmaster’s eyes narrowed sharply.

He turned his body to face Lisir.

"...!"

The three leaders hastily moved to shield Lisir.

Because if Rodan, enraged by the death of the demon worshiper who was supposed to help him, sought revenge—well, the Outer Blade they knew was certainly capable of it.

And Rodan—

He realized something.

"Maybe... trying to rely on a demon worshiper's help really was insane."

If Rodan no longer intended to accept help from a demon worshiper, then Lisir’s chance to persuade him would vanish as well.

The three leaders braced themselves for whatever madness the Outer Blade might unleash next.

"Help..."

Rodan mumbled awkwardly.

Toward the human-following demon and her master.

"Ah."

The three leaders nodded in understanding.