Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 94: The Briber (2)
Having packed all her belongings, Cadogan headed straight for the place where her younger brother Ragan would be.
The establishment named Left Hand Holds Liquor, nestled deep within the red-light back alleys, was one of the businesses under Gadum's control. It catered to nobles and merchants alike, offering a variety of services.
Ragan, along with other members of the White Scale Tribe, was in charge of managing the area surrounding Left Hand Holds Liquor.
“Oh, Lady Cadogan, welcome.”
The guard posted at the entrance—clearly a barbarian long steeped in city ways—brightened and gave her a nod of respect.
“Is Ragan in?”
“As a matter of fact, he’s entertaining a guest of Councilor Gadum right now. Huh? Lady Cadogan?”
Without waiting for a response, Cadogan made her way to the VIP room located in the deepest part of the establishment.
“Oi! No need to bring out more girls—huh?”
A man emanating hearty energy—Ragan—recognized her.
He was seated alongside a corpulent middle-aged man, each with a companion by their side. They were in the middle of entertaining a foreign merchant who had come with Gadum's recommendation.
“What brings you here?”
He displayed a mix of welcome and confusion at Cadogan’s unexpected appearance.
He had often urged his sister to drop by the establishment, but she had always refused, insisting that alcohol was a sacred medium for approaching the gods, and should only be consumed during ritual.
“Whatever it is, save it for later. As you can see, I’m busy.”
Ragan waved her off with a dismissive gesture.
At that moment, the merchant beside him gave Cadogan an appraising look, eyes scanning up and down.
“Sir Ragan. What’s that girl’s name?”
“Huh? What, you like her or something?”
“I’ve never had a barbarian before, but looking at her now, she’s surprisingly—grk!”
Ragan rose from his seat, grabbing the merchant by the throat.
The merchant’s bloated body, comparable in size to two grown men, lifted into the air with ease.
“You pig bastard. Did you just treat my sister like a whore?”
“Grkk—f-forgive me...! I-I didn’t know—!”
Despite the man’s pleading, his face slowly turned purple.
Ragan truly intended to kill him, and the merchant, realizing this, was horrified.
You fucking mad brute—I’m a guest of your boss...!
Cadogan let out a sharp sigh, as if to scold him.
“Ragan.”
“...”
He finally released his grip, grinning.
“You should count yourself lucky my sister’s a merciful person.”
“Kh-hkk—th-thank you! Thank you!”
“Don’t thank me. Apologize to her. What’s that head of yours for—decoration?”
“M-my deepest apologies, miss...! I didn’t recognize who you were—!”
“That’s enough. Take those bastards and get out.”
“Y-yes...! You heard her! Let’s go!”
The merchant scrambled to gather his people and fled the room.
Having already unbuttoned his shirt and set the mood, Ragan grimaced as he found himself alone in the room with only his sister.
“Cadogan. Can’t you see I’m working? What the hell’s going on with you, barging in like this? This isn’t like you.”
“Pack up the others. Right now.”
“Huh?”
“We’ve been in Bondales too long. Time to leave.”
Instead of replying, Ragan chugged a bottle of high-grade liquor—the establishment’s own product.
Half the bottle was gone in a single gulp. He looked unbothered, but also clearly displeased.
“City liquor’s strong, sure. But it never feels like I’ve actually drunk anything.”
“Ragan.”
“Still, I’ve come to like the liquor here. Guess I’ve grown used to it. The others too—they seem settled now. Cadogan...”
He looked at his sister with visible fatigue.
“What is it this time? What’s got you so spooked now?”
“Gadum. This time, he messed with the wrong person.”
“Hah. And here I thought it was something serious—again?”
It wasn’t unusual for Gadum to request Karmic Treading against those in power.
Cadogan had often voiced unease about it, off and on.
“This isn’t like last time. It’s different.”
“Of course it is.”
Ragan scoffed.
Only a few days ago, Cadogan had done Karmic Treading on the “three giants” and again expressed her unease.
And he had easily “resolved” that unease, just like now.
He believed this would be no different.
Seeing that attitude spelled out so plainly in Ragan’s relaxed expression, Cadogan twisted her face in frustration.
“You’re really going to keep acting /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ like this?”
“I’m thinking. Thinking of how to reassure our cowardly sister.”
Her patience reached its limit.
She stormed out of the room.
Ragan quickly jumped up and ran after her.
“Hey, where are you going?!”
“If you won’t come, I’ll take the others myself.”
“Ah, godsdammit! Cadogan! Alright, alright! Fine—let’s do this! Let’s try that thing again!”
“It’s a waste of time.”
“Come on! Even if it is a waste of time, we should at least try, shouldn’t we? If it really is pointless, I’ll shut up and do exactly what you say. Deal!?”
“...”
Cadogan, begrudgingly, gave a nod.
In response, Ragan summoned his most trusted subordinates.
The barbarian mercenaries who made up a large portion of Gadum's armed force assembled in one place.
“Damn, we’re busy enough as it is. Let’s go. Now I have to see what it is you saw.”
***
When Cadogan was alone, the underground chamber had felt barren.
But once Ragan and the seven barbarian warriors entered, it transformed into a cramped, stifling space.
They stepped onto the newly drawn Karmic Treading ritual circle.
“Sir Ragan. This again?”
“Yeah. If not us, who else is going to calm Cadogan’s nerves?”
His subordinates chuckled quietly, but offered no further comment.
One wrong response to Ragan’s jokes about his sister could easily spell disaster.
After all, he’d been banished from their tribe for crippling the tribal chief’s son over a slight against Cadogan.
His hot-blooded, combative temperament had earned him the name Battle Maniac.
Stories circulated throughout Bondales—not even Gadum could rein him in when he got going.
“We don’t have time for this...”
Muttering in frustration, Cadogan finally asked them if they were ready.
They were about to enter the mental world she had created for the Karmic Treading, and within it, engage in a full-scale battle.
This was how warriors of the White Scale Tribe prepared for combat.
They would witness the karmic sins of their future enemies through the ritual—then conquer them.
If the enemy had achieved that karmic weight, then so could they.
“So, what exactly did you see this time?”
“She won’t even tell me.”
Hearing the conversation, Cadogan smirked mischievously.
The Karmic Treading began.
***
“Ne—necromancer...!”
Moments later.
The warriors instinctively took a step back as a horde of the dead surged toward them.
Cadogan watched their pitiful reactions with a satisfied smile.
“Finally got your heads on straight?”
But the smile didn’t last long.
“A necromancer, huh? This is getting fun. Everyone, prepare for battle!”
Suddenly, Ragan stood before the necromancer, his face alight with fighting spirit.
“...!”
“Prepare for battle!”
At his command, the once-scattered energy was instantly realigned.
They formed ranks and charged into battle against the necromancer.
To their surprise, the fight was evenly matched.
A necromancer’s strength depended entirely on how many deaths they commanded.
And this one—judging by power—was likely newly born.
While still horrifying in nature, it lacked the full destructive might the title necromancer usually implied.
“We did it!!!”
“We’ve defeated the necromancer!!!”
The necromancer’s form disintegrated.
Ragan and his barbarian warriors had triumphed.
Of course—
A necromancer couldn’t be truly destroyed through normal means.
But this was Cadogan’s mental realm, built and ruled by her, so such a feat was possible here.
At the same time—
It proved something else as well.
That Ragan’s group had the strength to overcome this “karma.”
Just like the one they were treading upon.
If he could do it, so could they.
Besides, they had Gadum backing them.
There was no reason to fear this enemy more than necessary.
With that confidence, Ragan smiled at his sister.
His expression was still flushed with the thrill of battle.
“...This isn’t all.”
“Oh? That’s perfect, then. I was just getting warmed up.”
And with that, the world overturned.
The black mist and foul aura covering everything receded—
Revealing a shallow pond.
Bathed in moonlight, delicate blue lotuses bloomed here and there.
Like half-lidded eyes, those half-open blossoms stirred an unsettling, anxious feeling in those who beheld them.
A woman stood among the lotuses.
“~”
Ragan let out a whistle.
The other barbarian warriors' eyes lit up.
Her navy-blue bobbed hair shimmered under the moonlight, casting a faint blue glow.
That noble, cold aura blended naturally with the desolate scenery of the pond.
The hardened muscle visible beneath her tight leather matched the scene perfectly.
Her appearance, like that of a mysterious wild beast, stirred the barbarians’ primal urge to dominate.
Dorek, one of Ragan’s men, approached the woman.
Ragan chuckled quietly as he watched.
Until the moment the woman suddenly disappeared from view.
The next instant, she was right up close to Dorek.
“Kh—kk—!”
Dorek began choking, a guttural sound rising from his throat.
Her hand was around his neck—no, through it.
She pulled her hand back out of his throat.
The torn flesh, shattered bone, and ruptured muscle should have offered resistance, but it was as if nothing impeded her movement at all.
When her hand emerged again, it clutched a part of the organ that had supported Dorek’s neck.
She toyed with it in her hand, as if it were made of soft clay, savoring the texture.
Dorek’s body collapsed, having lost the support of its neck.
Even to barbarians familiar with all manners of death, this death felt unreal.
And it had all happened in the blink of an eye—the moment Ragan lost sight of the woman.
The thrill and triumph of having defeated the necromancer, the high of battle—
All of it had vanished without a trace.
“...Interesting.”
Ragan’s lips curled into a wide grin, full of battle lust.
Then, he hurled the hand axe gripped in his left hand with all his might.
—Vwoooom!
The axe slashed through the air at a savage speed, tracing a diagonal arc.
Its trajectory was unpredictable, its speed difficult to react to.
The woman casually swept her hand at the incoming axe.
At that motion, the axe veered sharply off course—then even accelerated.
Thwack!
The sound came from near Ragan.
The axe he’d thrown had curved around and embedded itself in Damus’s forehead.
As his subordinate collapsed behind him, Ragan charged the woman.
Her figure vanished again, but this time, Ragan—fully focused—didn’t lose her.
Their blades clashed.
Light.
That was how Ragan perceived her sword—and he grinned.
He thought he could teach this arrogant bitch a lesson.
A sadistic grin twisted across the battle maniac’s face.
As he pressed down on her with his sword, he spoke:
“You’re not as tou—ghaaaagh!”
His words broke mid-sentence.
Too late, he realized—she was only using her right hand.
It was her left hand, wielding a second sword, that pierced through his left eye.
His strength drained from the blade.
And as it did, she leaned in close to him, face to face.
“Haa...”
She let out a breathless, exhilarated sigh as she stared into his expression—one of pain and bewilderment.
Ragan was a battle maniac.
He was infamous for being a lunatic who, once aroused, couldn’t see anything but the fight.
But even he couldn’t comprehend what this woman was showing him now.
Within the midst of battle—
No, within pure slaughter—
What in the world was she feeling?
“G-guh—”
“Ragan!”
Cadogan’s voice rang out in alarm.
At some point, Ragan’s wound had already healed completely.
He remembered: this was Cadogan’s mental world.
With her help, they could defeat this monster.
But the original purpose of the ritual had long since been forgotten.
Their thoughts were now thoroughly chained to the woman before them.
Ragan pulled back and, with the others, re-formed their battle formation—the same formation they had used to defeat the necromancer.
The frantic movements of the barbarian warriors clashed starkly with the woman’s serene gait.
She stepped forward with effortless grace.
And it was as if the world itself accommodated her every movement.
Even though this was Cadogan’s world.
Somehow, she slipped right into the gaps in their formation—positioning herself at its very center.
A foolish move.
To throw herself into the middle of the enemy line?
But she smiled joyfully, as if that was exactly what she wanted.
Before they could process the strangeness of her footwork, she moved.
One sword swing.
A streak of blood.
And by the time the arc of blood had formed, she was already in motion again.
And again.
Each motion overlapping with the next.
The barbarians couldn’t keep up.
By the time her sequence of movements ended—
“Guh!”
“Argh!”
—they were already falling, all at once, overwhelmed by the sword strikes they only now registered.
Only Ragan remained barely standing.
And he immediately realized that this, too, was a mistake.
He should have fallen.
If he didn’t want to be toyed with like the rest.
Each time the monster stepped or swung her arm, Ragan’s body twisted further away from the form of a human.
At first, she had deliberately avoided his vital spots.
“Ragan!”
But at some point, she realized: no matter how much she stabbed or sliced, he wouldn’t die.
“Haa... haa...”
Her breathing grew heavier.
That emotion poured into her sword.
This wasn’t combat anymore. Nor even slaughter.
It was butchery.
Her sword—like a butcher’s knife flaying livestock—carved Ragan's flesh without mercy.
“W-what the hell is that thing...”
The shaman trembled uncontrollably at the horror before him.
Could that truly be human?
What kind of human could display such mastery?
Such murderous intent?
“K-k-kha—”
Ragan desperately called out his sister’s name with his damaged jaw and torn vocal cords.
Cadogan was the master of this world.
And yet she could not control the monster.
“Ragan!”
The battle-hungry barbarian was gone.
All that remained was a man begging the monster for mercy.
Begging his sister for help.
Any longer, and his mind would break.
Cadogan prepared to forcibly end the Karmic Treading—
Thwack!
That was when a hatchet slammed into Cadogan’s neck.
The pain stunned her, paralyzing her thoughts.
As her vision blurred, she saw the monster smiling.
No... this can’t be...
That thing was supposed to be a residue of karma—a mere illusion of the past.
And yet, it was devouring her entire mental world.
How powerful must the original be? How monstrous the ego, to leave behind something like this?
The barbarians could not begin to fathom it.
All they could do was writhe in pain.
Until—
“...!”
The monster’s gaze shot outward.
At the end of that gaze stood a young man.
With his gentle impression and youthful face, he didn’t belong in this blood-soaked nightmare.
The monster closed the distance instantly with that same twisted stepwork that had toyed with the barbarians.
And struck, without hesitation.
Just like with the others, she moved to violate and annihilate this man’s dignity in a wholly inhuman way.
The moment her body reached him—
“KYAAAAAAAAAGH!!!”
The monster screamed.
Her form began to collapse.
The man grabbed her now-vulnerable neck.
And the monster transformed into a sword.
“...”
The man, collecting the sword she had become, turned and left without a word.
“Ah... ah...”
The barbarians could not process what they had just witnessed.
Their consciousness flickered, freed at last from the monster.
***
“HUAAAAAGH...!”
Back in the basement, ragged breaths exploded one after another.
“...”
Ragan—
He sat there, gasping, utterly dazed.
Then, slowly, he turned to face his sister.
“...” “...” They exchanged a silent nod.
***
[White Scale Tribe Warrior Ragan has left the party.]
[White Scale Tribe Warrior Dorek has left the party.]
[White Scale Tribe Archer Damus has left the party.]
[ ... has left the party.]
[ ... has left the party.]
[ ... has left the party.]
[ ... has left the party.]
***
“This is what was delivered to me?”
The next morning.
Lisir untied the bundle someone had left at the front of the mansion and checked its contents.
[To Lord Lisir]
