Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 53

I’d started making my mark with the Mage Tower. Then I pulled off another notable feat with the adventurers. Things were just beginning to pick up momentum when, suddenly, the ship sprang a leak, and now I’m stuck bailing water.

Sure, reaching a realm I never could’ve imagined in the past is worth celebrating, but the fact remains—I’m still an outsider in this city. I have a long way to go before I establish myself here.

'Oh, come to think of it—'

Something occurred to me, so I addressed Sir Meltas.

"Sir Meltas, by the way, how is that progressing?"

"Oh, you mean the dark mage incident and the supporter issue?"

"It feels like I’m being impatient—sorry about that."

"No need to apologize. It’s the Mage Tower that should be apologizing for making you feel that way."

Sir Meltas let out a deep sigh.

"If I were to make an excuse—though it’s not really an excuse—it’s because of this: You’re a hot potato at the Mage Tower right now."

"Me? Because of the dark mage incident?"

"Exactly. Believe it or not, there are those who aren’t pleased that you resolved the Mage Tower’s problem."

Pien scoffed.

"Let me guess—it’s because I’m an outsider and not a noble, so acknowledging that someone like me solved their problem would hurt the Mage Tower’s pride? Let me guess, it’s the high-ranking nobles causing trouble."

Sir Meltas smiled wryly.

"Spot on. In the end, the Mage Tower isn’t just a place where mages and scholars pursue knowledge—it’s also a society of people and nobles, where petty power struggles abound. Lisir, some influential figures in the tower aren’t happy with your achievements. Marina, Master Didora, and I are speaking out on your behalf, but the opposition has been stronger than expected."

"And these opponents—what do they want?"

Pien sounded genuinely frustrated, as if it were her problem too.

"Their intentions are clear: to save face. In other words, they want to bury the dark mage case entirely, as they see it as something that damages their image."

"They're trying to prevent the Mage Tower from officially acknowledging my accomplishments because that would mean admitting the issue existed in the first place?"

"Precisely. Once again, I can’t express how sorry I am, Lisir. That said, there’s a bit of good news."

"Good news?"

"Yes. According to Marina, Lady Haina seems to have decided to step in."

"Haina? You mean her?"

"That’s right. With someone like Lady Haina Mastien—a descendant of a grand noble house—taking your side, we might finally see progress. And there’s more. Your supporter qualifications have been approved."

"Oh..."

"Before long, you’ll be able to enjoy the various benefits of being a supporter and work under that title. For now, the most pressing matter is your health."

Clap! Sir Meltas clapped his hands, changing the atmosphere.

"To summarize, Lisir, there are two key things you need right now."

"Are those two things Pien and Sir Meltas? Haha! How kind of you!"

Sigh.

Both Meltas and Pien sighed next to me.

"This guy—is he really sick? If only you were sicker, you’d be stuck silently lying in bed, unable to say a word."

"And what would you do with me, silently lying in bed?!"

I wrapped my arms around myself in mock alarm, and Pien scrunched up her face in exasperation.

"I’d find something to do, that’s for sure."

"Lisir, while I’m glad to see you’re looking well, I trust you’ll exercise caution in your actions. What you need most right now is rest and recovery."

"I thought I just needed to manage my mana use?"

"That’s true, but hearing you say that makes me uneasy. It feels like you’re going to try everything but rest. Let me ask in advance—what exactly do you plan to do while ‘managing your mana use’?"

"Overload happens because my frail body can’t keep up with my mana, doesn’t it? So I figured I’d train my body. After all, muscles are just as important as mana, aren’t they?"

"You’re planning to train your body in your current condition? Are you out of your mind?"

"Hmm. Body training—a wise choice."

I leaned over to whisper to Pien.

"Pien, don’t worry. Let’s pretend I didn’t hear that. Let’s start over."

Pien puffed out her cheeks in frustration. I thought I was being considerate, but it seemed I’d just made things worse.

"Fine. Do whatever you want."

"I don’t want to. I’ll only listen to you, Pien."

"Then go ahead and die."

"And yet, if I died, you’d be the one who’d cry the most."

"Want me to prove you wrong?"

"Lisir, you and your wife get along well. It’s a good sight."

"Who’s his wife?!"

"Didn’t you just say so yourself?"

Sir Meltas gave Pien a puzzled look.

"Anyway, back to the topic of training, Lisir—improving your physical condition is indeed the second key thing you need."

"What kind of physique suits a fifth-rank mage? Should I aim to be tougher than stone?"

"Do you even hear yourself? And yet, that might actually be the right approach in your case."

"How could anyone be tougher than stone?"

"Didn’t you just suggest it?"

Sir Meltas gave me the same puzzled look he had for Pien earlier.

"Of course, I don’t mean you should literally make your muscles as hard as stone. But did you know warriors don’t experience overloads?"

"Excuse me?"

"Take a simple example. Your abnormal growth rate led to an equally abnormal overload. But if you were a warrior, the overload would’ve been negligible."

"Is it because their increased rank naturally enhances their physical capabilities?"

Pien chimed in, and Sir Meltas nodded.

"As expected of Lisir’s wife—you hit the nail on the head."

Sir Meltas clenched his fist.

"Warriors channel mana through their bodies. You might argue mages do the same."

"Don’t mages do the same?"

"There’s a subtle difference. Mages store mana in their bodies and control it with mental strength. Warriors, on the other hand, use their bodies as a blade."

"So they don’t just store mana in their bodies—they fuse it with their physical forms."

"Exactly."

For the first time, I realized why I’d never heard about overloads back when I was in the Bendel household. Knights, who enhance their bodies with mana to improve their rank, would find the idea of mana-induced overloads completely foreign.

"So does that mean all fifth-rank mages have physical abilities on par with their mana levels?"

I looked at Sir Meltas’s clenched fist with a newfound sense of awe. Just how much strength was packed into the fist of a sixth-rank mage and tower master?

"No. Strength isn’t the only way to endure mana. Prolonged coexistence with it builds resistance—that’s how we mages adapt to mana."

"My growth is too rapid for my resistance to keep up."

"Exactly. And—"

Sir Meltas let out another deep sigh before continuing.

"That issue might not be limited to the present."

"…"

After reflecting on his words for a moment, I reached my own conclusion.

"Given my growth rate so far, it’s likely my resistance will continue to lag behind my growth."

"Exactly. Even if we treat your current overload, it’s only a matter of time before it happens again unless something changes."

"In other words, my solution isn’t resistance but physical training."

Breaking it down to my own terms, the message was clear:

If I focus only on my main stat—mental strength—I’ll end up dead. Time to put some points into endurance.

After a brief moment of thought, I spoke up.

"So mages… we’re actually inferior, aren’t we?"

"Gah!!!"

"Come on, think about it. Being crushed to death by our own power? We’re like fish out of water."

"Don’t generalize your personal problems as issues for all mages! Besides, with your ridiculous growth rate, even warriors would have issues!"

"Unsubstantiated slander against warriors, I see."

"Our warriors?"

Pien shot me a pitiful look. It seemed even a True Ancestor Vampire couldn’t comprehend my genius.

Just as I was about to enlighten them with the wisdom of warriors and their superiority over mages, I was interrupted by a sudden cough. Blood stained my palm as I pulled my hand away.

Meltas and Pien both gave me a look that screamed, “Really? Playing the sick card now?”

"Heh, so, what now, conniving mages?"

Pien sighed heavily.

"The conniving mage wants to hear your plan, not nonsense."

"As I said, I’ll prioritize rest and recovery while integrating training where possible."

"Where do you plan to learn swordsmanship?"

"Good question. Sir Meltas, do you know anything about swordsmanship?"

"You’re asking me to teach you the sword?"

"Well, I thought you might."

"Should I apologize for failing to meet expectations? Well, I can point you in the right direction."

"Spearmanship!?"

"You need to work on that prejudice of yours."

Meltas pulled out a fist-sized notebook, scribbled something, and tore out a page to hand me.

"A martial arts manual!?"

"No, just the name of a guild where you might learn something suitable."

"I see."

After glancing at the note, a thought occurred to me.

"But, Sir Meltas, can I really learn proper swordsmanship at a place like this?"

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Swordsmanship in this world wasn’t just about swinging a blade—it involved mastering mana manipulation techniques that rivaled magic. Those were skills even illegitimate children struggled for years to acquire.

Understanding my concern, Sir Meltas chuckled wryly.

"I wouldn’t hold your breath. If you could learn advanced techniques at some pay-to-enter guild, why would nobles bow their heads to become apprentices at other families’ knight orders?"

"So you think I’ll figure something out?"

"That’s what I’m counting on. You’ve got a knack for the unexpected, after all."

"That’s rather irresponsible of you."

"Well, you’re not my apprentice."

"Even more irresponsible!"

Faced with the sight of an elder with braided hair pouting like a child, I found myself at a loss for words.

***

After a while, my conversation with Sir Meltas came to an end, and I was preparing to leave the laboratory.

"Sir Meltas, thank you for all your advice."

"Still… are you sure you're really alright?"

"Sorry?"

"Your body, I mean. Considering everything you've been through, you look… suspiciously fine."

"I just coughed up blood a moment ago, didn’t I?"

"...Regardless, take care of yourself."

"Yes, thank you. I’ll be on my way now."

"Hold on."

Perrin spoke up.

Until a moment ago, she had been clinging to me like a limpet, but as soon as her "energy recharge" was complete, she retreated to the far corner of the room like she was running away.

"Hey, old man. Do you have a bowl or a plate?"

"Hey! Perrin, what kind of tone is that to use with Sir Meltas?"

"It’s fine, Lisir."

Sir Meltas chuckled warmly, like a grandfather indulging his granddaughter, and handed a saucer to Perrin.

"What do you need it for?"

"He’s sick, isn’t he?"

"Oh, Perrin. Are you worried about me?"

"...If you’re sick, Didoa would be upset."

It surprised even Didoa, but Perrin had grown unexpectedly fond of him. She claimed that his aura gave her a sense of familiarity, and she liked that about him.

That’s how Didoa ended up with a pet wolf.

Honestly, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. It felt like I’d dumped a stray wolf I found on the street onto poor Didoa.

But there wasn’t much I could do. Perrin had a habit of clinging to me when she was "hungry" for energy, only to act indifferent and cold the moment she was recharged.

As it stood, Didoa was the only person Perrin seemed to fully open up to when she was in her right mind. The silver lining in all this was—

"A spirit that doesn’t find me unpleasant? That’s astounding."

"Lisir, would you mind if I took care of this child? Apologies if that’s an uncomfortable question."

—Didoa didn’t seem to mind Perrin at all. In fact, he seemed quite taken with her.

"This is for Didoa."

Perrin placed the saucer on the floor. Then, she transformed into her wolf form and—

Hrk! Hrk! Hrk!

She began retching into the saucer.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Perrin?!"

A clear, slimy liquid dripped from her snout and pooled in the saucer. Moments later, with a wet plop, a small orb landed in the liquid.

Returning to her human form, Perrin wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and said, "Eat it."

"...!"

Was this… edible?

Her expression was that of a chef who had just presented a masterpiece. Perrin looked at me with a mix of confidence and anticipation, clearly expecting my reaction.

***

[Title: Guys, About Traits at Certain Levels]

Content: What happens if you already have an S-tier main trait and you get another one from the same category?

: "How the @#$% did you even get an S-tier in the first place?": "If it’s like that, people are just gonna call you a noob."[OP]: "Ugh, @#$%. I wouldn’t be asking if I knew."[OP]: "Seriously, do I look like I’d ask if I already had it?": "Oh, my bad. Sorry.": "If you already have an S-tier main trait, it gives you a sub-trait instead. If your sub-trait is also top-tier, it randomly gives you something from another category. That’s how I ended up with a shaman trait out of nowhere."[OP]: "How the @#$% did I even get an S-tier, and now this?": "Wow, you’re really living that noob life, huh?"

[Title: Where Do You Get a Spirit Core?]

Content: My health stat is too low. I want to boost it somehow.

: [Link]: "Guide to Obtaining a Spirit Core."[OP]: "@#$%, maxing out affinity with some high-tier spirit? Forget it. I’m not bothering anymore."

***

The Guides are individuals entrusted by the Church with the solemn duty of leading lost lambs back to the righteous path. To aid in this task, the Church grants them broad authority, allowing them to interpret and carry out their mission as they see fit.

Now, under the leadership of High Priest Bardros, a number of Guides had arrived in Bondales. Their mission was singular:

To root out the Apostle of the Parasite hidden within the Gray Mage Tower.

This was no easy task. Among the ranks of cunning and malevolent dark mages, the Apostles of the Parasite were particularly devious, secretive, and insidious.

Above all, little was known about them. It was likely that even the Mage Tower itself was unaware of their presence.

Thus, the Guides faced a significant challenge. The Mage Tower, with its notoriously insular nature, was one of the most hostile organizations toward the Church. At present, not only was it impossible for the Guides to conduct a large-scale search within the tower, but even gaining formal access to the tower seemed a distant possibility.

How could they convince the Mage Tower of the Parasite’s existence and secure its cooperation?

As a first step, Guide Tordal decided to approach a certain Mage Tower insider. He was confident in his choice.

The information he had painstakingly obtained suggested that this individual, given her status as a half-blood, held a very low position within the Mage Tower. Surely, she would agree to his proposal.

After hearing Tordal’s story, the half-blood mage, Didoa, responded with her usual impassive expression.

"A dark mage has infiltrated the Gray Mage Tower?"

"That’s correct. Of course, you wouldn’t have noticed yet."

Didoa tilted her head slightly and murmured, "Again?"

"?"

Again?

Tordal blinked, unable to comprehend what the half-blood mage was talking about.