Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 91: Blue Lotus Clana

All swordmasters of the current era had once learned under him. The origin of the Great Sword.

“So the rumors were wrong after all.”

The aged swordsman, revered under the name Wongeom—Original Sword—spoke.

He was facing one swordswoman now.

According to rumor, she was a madwoman devoured by the frenzy of slaughter. But to Wongeom, who had watched countless swordsmen in their youth, she appeared different.

“Child. You are no maniac consumed by madness. Isn’t that right?”

“...”

“That unwavering, righteous gaze... Even among my disciples, there were few with such eyes. And every one of them possessed a gift destined to mark history.”

Child.

Wongeom spoke, as though lamenting.

“How could you—born with such firm and upright will—fall into such heresy?”

His voice carried a tenderness, like one speaking to their own pupil.

Yet despite that voice, she—the Blue Lotus—answered only with a bitter sneer.

As if to say it was {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} a foolish question unworthy of a response.

Haa. Haa.

Shallow breaths slipped past her lips, lips curved like a hook drawn in a perfect arc.

Drip.

Blood fell from her sword.

Drip.

Blood trickled down from the wounds on her body.

Only after a long, deep inhalation did she finally release her breath, as if savoring the thick scent of blood hanging in the air.

“...”

A rare flicker of shock crossed the worn face of the old master.

At some point, her breathing had completely stabilized.

In contrast—

“Haa...! Haa...!”

The other swordmaster, Jeggeom—who had crossed blades with her just moments ago—was still struggling to catch his breath.

“Astounding...”

Wongeom found himself briefly forgetting that the Blue Lotus was a blood-soaked killer. He felt nothing but pure awe.

The level of control she displayed—her mastery over breath and flow—had reached a realm even Wongeom himself had never encountered.

“How... could such a monster exist...”

At that moment, she was in a state of perfect control.

Amidst the chaos of blood and steel, where death unfolded like a painting, she was experiencing complete fulfillment.

Her ragged breathing was not born from excitement, but from that overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

She was no beast dominated by instinct or savagery, as the world claimed her to be. She was a monster who pursued slaughter and bloodshed through reason and intellect.

“Argon. Fix your stance.”

Hearing his master’s words, Jeggeom wondered if Wongeom was preparing to step in.

“From here on, we attack together.”

“...Master?”

Jeggeom could hardly believe what he was hearing. He understood well what such a declaration meant to swordmasters whose pride in their blades bordered on obsession.

He felt a brief pang of protest—

But—

“We must stop that thing here and now.”

Seeing the expression on his master’s face, Jeggeom had no choice but to set aside his pride.

“...Understood.”

The greatest swordmaster and his disciple. Their joint assault.

For the first time, the killer’s face—the Blue Lotus—twitched, as if mildly troubled.

“Haa...”

At the same time, her breath deepened, laced with even greater satisfaction. Even in this moment, she felt anticipation for the slaughter yet to come.

“...”

The gap in power was undeniable. The roles of predator and prey had already been decided.

And yet—

Why was it...

Why did a flicker of fear creep into the hearts of the two hunters?

***

That day, on an unnamed plain, a ferocious battle unfolded—one never to be recorded in history.

In that battle, Wongeom lost an arm. And both Wongeom and Jeggeom lost their most cherished ego swords.

During the course of the battle, the souls within those swords had been consumed— overwhelmed by the ego of the killer.

One killer’s ego had devoured four others.

Wongeom would later describe the battle, in which he lost so much, as divine fortune.

Because one thing was certain: That killer would never be satisfied.

The Blue Lotus.

She was a monster who could feel happiness only through the carnage of battle and slaughter.

***

“Aah.”

A sharp sound slipped out from somewhere.

It had come from Clana, who had been trying to steady her breath, shaken by a sudden jolt of sensation.

“...!”

Her already flushed face deepened in color.

But now it was different—not from joy, but shame. Humiliation. Anger.

At last, a venomous glint overtook Clana’s face, encompassing all those bitter emotions.

She focused all her will on controlling her breath.

There was no confusion. Breath and discipline were her most powerful weapons.

There was a reason so many strong opponents had yielded the first move to the Blue Lotus—only to fall like prey.

There was a reason they had given her joy, scattering blood and moans across the field.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be allowed to disrupt her breath or control.

“Aah...”

...It should have been that way.

But with every exhale, that faint, nasal moan kept slipping through.

The once-imperious expression on Clana’s face began to blur with something close to desire.

At this moment, what disturbed her most was not her faltering breath.

But the emotion at the root of that breath.

Damn it, damn it, damn it... What the hell—what the hell is this...!

Clana began to realize, dimly—

That the feeling now ruling her body was happiness.

And that this happiness—was just as great as the joy she felt during slaughter.

Don’t be ridiculous...

She denied it with every fiber of her being.

Because only slaughter gave her life meaning. Only the act of killing made her feel alive.

“Haa... haa...”

But it was not so easy.

How long had it been since she died—slain by two swordmasters and reduced to nothing but a wandering soul?

In all those years, she had not experienced a single act of direct killing.

Her soul was like the parched earth of a drought-stricken wasteland.

And now, this sudden rush of happiness—it was like rain in the desert.

Her spirit, which had wandered without a vessel, felt the vividness of life again for the first time in ages.

It was a fullness she wanted to surrender to. To immerse in.

But she couldn’t.

Because of the situation.

Lisir...!!!

This happiness had come after she had demonstrated sword technique to him.

Like a reward for indulging the request of someone who longed to learn.

If she gave in to this sensation, how would she be any different from a slave begging for their master’s approval?

And the bitter truth was—her current condition wasn’t so different from that.

Which only deepened her humiliation.

And so—

Clana refused to acknowledge the happiness. Refused to crave it.

You worm. No matter how long it takes, I’ll get out of here and kill you myself.

She burned that hatred toward him to snuff out the happiness.

And little by little, it receded.

Of course—

Whether that was because the limited joy had simply run out, or because her defiance had worked, there was no way to be certain.

Fine.

At last, having completely driven out the happiness, Clana tried again to regulate her breath.

And it returned—as calm and steady as moonlit silence.

Her original breath. Perfectly controlled.

A breath that brought serenity to her body and soul.

“...”

But it was strange. Within that calm, she felt a restless unease she couldn’t quite explain.

She felt... antsy, perhaps.

Her throat itched. She couldn’t keep her body still.

Clana, irritated by the stifling sensation, shot up abruptly.

Her gaze, without meaning to, followed Lisir.

He had exited the inner world to internalize the movements she had demonstrated.

“Phew...”

Upon realizing that, Clana let out a sigh of relief.

It had been something she realized during the assault.

The man was a complete amateur when it came to martial arts.

His body was trained, but that was all.

The movement she had shown him was a fundamental technique—simple, yes, but also the cornerstone of all swordsmanship.

For a beginner to comprehend the essence contained in that motion, a tremendous amount of time would be required.

In other words, during that time, she would be free from his interference.

There was the possibility that he might issue a command using the authority of inner world dominance—instruct me in more detail—but even in that case, it posed no problem.

That would clearly fall outside her scope of responsibility.

Her sword was not something derived from structured swordsmanship.

It was the culmination of instincts and practical efficiency, sharpened through a path of slaughter.

That was the true nature of her style—Clana-ryu.

Detailed instruction—a transmission based on formal techniques—was practically impossible.

Only transmission through sensation was viable.

Repeat it, over and over, until it’s right.

Her sword was a difficult, unorthodox form even veteran swordmasters struggled to respond to.

He’d realize that soon enough and give up on his own.

“...”

Clana, envisioning Lisir growing disheartened at the lack of progress, felt deeply satisfied.

She spent the time imagining various outcomes and scenarios related to Lisir.

Just thinking about that man made her furious—but what could she do? In this still, empty inner world, that was all she could do.

He was the only being currently connected to her.

So it was inevitable.

Clana ended up thinking about Lisir alone.

***

“Clana. Would you come out for a moment?”

Not long after the inner world contact.

Lisir had called her, wanting her to evaluate his form.

He asked her to possess the ego sword and step out.

But Clana neither possessed the ego sword nor replied.

It was her silent protest—

Even if I’m inevitably subject to your dominion, I will never obey you of my own will.

***

Clana smiled with satisfaction.

She no longer heard him calling.

He must’ve figured it out too.

That the only way to get anything from her was to step directly into the inner world and exert his dominance.

Clana composed herself and prepared for that inevitable confrontation. She vowed that this time, she wouldn’t be caught off guard like before.

But then—suddenly—Clana realized she was looking forward to it.

Why?

Surely, it must be anticipation for revenge.

Clana accepted that, and set aside her confusion.

***

Was her plan working better than expected? No matter how long she waited, he didn’t come into the inner world.

Clana congratulated herself.

Alone, in the still and empty void of her inner world.

“...”

But it was strange.

That stillness and emptiness—something she’d always brushed off—suddenly felt suffocating.

Clana felt an unknown sense of anxiety.

***

Two days had passed since Lisir began staying at Ran’s estate.

During that time, he had secluded himself in the garden attached to his room, devoting himself to mastering the movement Clana had shown.

He practiced in front of a mirror set up in the garden. And the movements he produced—surprisingly—were quite convincing.

Against all of Clana’s expectations, or perhaps her hopes, Lisir had begun to grasp the core essence behind the motion.

He was stunned himself.

Was I always this talented with a sword?

“No way.”

If that were true, surely it would have manifested long ago, back in Vendel.

“It must be because of the ego sword I obtained this time.”

The image Lisir absorbed from the Blue Lotus was Clana’s own.

He had fully taken in that internal landscape.

Thanks to that, he now had a deep understanding of Clana-ryu, the sword style birthed from her psyche.

If Clana gave him her full cooperation, the succession of her swordsmanship could proceed with remarkable speed.

“Hmm...”

Even so, Lisir had been stumbling, unable to earn Clana’s cooperation.

That was because the memory of exerting dominance over her had left a bitter aftertaste.

She had called herself a killer. In the inner world, she had attacked him, trying to seize control. And she had mocked Rodan, the master she once revered.

Lisir had assumed—correctly—that he wouldn’t feel guilty about exploiting someone so villainous.

But his discomfort came from an unexpected source.

He remembered it—Clana, forced to obey his command against her will.

That peculiar revulsion that came from bending someone’s will like a tool.

If only I’d threatened her instead... it wouldn’t feel this disgusting.

And so, Lisir had been avoiding direct contact in the inner world as much as possible.

He once again executed the movement in front of the mirror.

“At this point...”

No matter how many times he repeated and dissected the motion, it yielded nothing new.

Is this the limit of what I can reach alone?

It was time to receive further instruction.

I’ll avoid forced action as much as I can...

After settling on his approach, Lisir closed his eyes.

Before long, the inner world unfolded before him—and the familiar scene began.

The killer charged toward him.

Oddly, her movements were even more explosive than before.

Like something parched and desperate.

The difference in strength was clear.

Lisir couldn’t do a thing. In moments, Clana had pinned him beneath her.

The weight on his hips completely restricted his lower body. The pressure on his torso rendered his arms useless.

What the hell... If I ever meet her in real life, how the hell am I supposed to deal with her?

That thought made Lisir laugh bitterly.

He’d only just promised himself to avoid forced control—and yet here he was, already in a situation he couldn’t escape without it.

Of course, it made sense.

She called herself a killer. She had the sheer strength to be revered by swordmasters. And now, trapped within someone else’s inner world, she was furious.

Trying to handle such a being without invoking the authority of the inner world... was beyond arrogant.

No helping it, then.

Just as Lisir was about to exert dominance over the inner world—

“...”

Clana, who was pinning him down, suddenly grimaced.

“Damn it...”

She released his arm and stood up.

Her movements were awkward, as though compelled by an invisible force.

“Coward...”

“?”

Did I use forced control?

No, I didn’t.

Just as Lisir was puzzling over it—

Clana spoke.

“I’ve told you again and again. I have no teachings to offer to the likes of you. Get lost.”

“...!”

In that instant, Lisir was overwhelmed by her presence.

She looked ready to strike at any moment—a ravenous beast.

If she was hungry for something, it had to be his blood.

She’s in a particularly foul mood today.

If he used forced control on her now, the gap between her true intentions and her body’s actions would only grow more apparent.

And that would only amplify her resentment.

No helping it.

Just today. He’d wait just one more day.

Lisir turned to leave the inner world.

And then—

“W-wait...!”

“?”

Clana grabbed his sleeve, desperation in her grip.

“Damn it, this again... guess I don’t have a choice...”

She muttered like she was trying to convince herself.

Lisir tilted his head, watching as Clana tried—awkwardly—to execute a movement.

Wait... my dominance isn’t even active, right?