Chapter 87: Ego Sword

Huh?

Risir suddenly sensed something foreign within him—something had entered his inner world and settled in. The feeling was similar to when Verdandes had abruptly moved in.

-Hey.

The woman’s voice echoed in his mind once more.

Is this…the voice of Rodan’s master…?

Risir belatedly recognized the nature of the foreign presence that had settled in his inner world. He didn’t know why, but the ego within the sword seemed to have been transferred into him.

-Arrogant punk. How long do you intend to ignore my words?

Subconsciously, Risir focused his mind on his inner world, tracing the voice to a vast, empty expanse of pure white. At its center stood a tall woman, arms crossed. Her short, dark blue hair complemented her refined, elegant expression.

Risir recognized her instantly as Rodan’s master. That same untamed intimidation he had felt from Rodan radiated from her as well.

“Yes, now I can see your face clearly. You’re cuter than I thought.”

A subtle smile appeared on her lips.

“Why are you standing there blankly? You should reveal your name to your master-to-be.”

“…”

Risir’s brow furrowed.

My master-to-be? But what about your disciple?

“Isn’t Rodan your disciple?”

“He’s a cute kid.”

Cute?

Risir doubted his ears.

“However, he’s too soft.”

Too soft?

Risir doubted his ears again.

“He picks up ten things about swords when you teach him one, but that pathetic personality of his never gets any better. When will he stop being just a strong, little brat?”

“Ah…”

Risir vaguely realized what was going on. Basically, she had grown tired of Rodan’s overbearing personality and decided to let him go.

Having already experienced the natural disaster called Rodan, he could deeply understand her feelings.

“Certainly, there’s some truth to that.”

“…”

She cast a meaningful look at Risir with a sly smile.

“That’s right. You think so too, don’t you? After all, from the perspective of those like us, there’s no one as lacking and mediocre as him.”

“?”

Risir was momentarily confused. She didn’t quite look like a master who had simply grown tired of her disciple.

No matter how disappointed she is, isn’t she being a bit too harsh to someone who was once her disciple?

Moreover, judging by Rodan’s earlier reaction, she didn’t seem to have fully resolved her master-disciple relationship with him.

“If you’ll take me as your disciple…what are you planning to do with Rodan?”

Even though it was about her disciple, she answered as if it was nothing of importance.

“At first, I thought that if he ever drew this sword, I would take him back. But the more I watched, the more impossible it seemed. He’ll never be like us. Just a flawed, incomplete failure. I was wrong about him from the start.”

“…”

The former master of Swordmaster Rodan was valuing him more highly than Rodan himself—a truly astounding situation. Yet all Risir felt was unease and discomfort.

This wasn’t what Risir considered a master-disciple relationship.

-My disciple~ I’m sorry to say this, but I didn’t think about the aftermath when I took you in~

…

Anyway, it wasn’t.

He didn’t intend to become a disciple of someone like this.

“I’ll be honest with you. I have no intention of becoming your disciple.”

“Your will doesn’t matter one bit. What’s important is that I’ve decided it.”

Despite the gravity of her words, she didn’t come across as arrogant at all.

Her presence exuded a kingly confidence, born from countless experiences. She believed that whatever she desired would inevitably come to pass.

For a moment, curiosity outweighed Risir’s resistance. Why would someone like her take an interest in him?

When he voiced his question, she replied with a sly smile.

“Why? Because you and I are alike.”

“Alike?”

“I know. I know how much blood you’ve spilled with those hands.”

“…?”

“There’s no point in pretending.”

Her sly smile twisted further, turning into a wicked, almost deranged grin.

“Why don’t you tell me a bit more about yourself? What exactly did you do? How is it that, at such a young age, you were able to stain your hands with so much blood?”

The woman reached out toward Risir, gleaming with twisted delight. She was certain he would willingly fit into her world.

As she had said before, he was definitely someone like her. The condition to draw the sword, the condition to awaken her true self—it was a body and soul soaked in blood.

As the killer questioned her fellow killer(?).

“?”

He tilted his head in confusion.

“What blood?”

“…?”

Seeing the naive look on his face, the killer finally sensed something was off.

Something was wrong indeed.

Blue Lotus?

Oh, you must mean Clana. Had you referred to her as the insane hussy who marked her kills with flowers in the good old days, I would’ve realized instantly.

In that vein, Blue Lotus was a notorious battle maniac and a dreaded murderer of her time. Like a vengeful spirit, she would stop at nothing so long as she could clash swords with someone and draw blood.

It’s said that her slaughter spree didn’t cease until two swordmasters set out to purge her.

You know how stubborn swordmasters can be when it comes to matters of the blade. That they would suddenly band together for a joint assault speaks volumes of her power.

…That reminds me of how absurd it is.

Huh? Oh, not how they fought together. I mean the name Blue Lotus.

Even a deranged killer like that gets to be called Blue Lotus, yet a modest, demure young lady like myself…

– Eloran the Crawling Library –

(Keyword: [Ego Sword: Blue Lotus])

Clana, the Blue Lotus. She strove to understand the situation.

When she was in Rodan’s grasp, she had never felt such completeness. Now, she had regained her full strength and true self. As the sword’s owner, she needed to resonate with someone ideal.

However, a brief conversation had painfully revealed that her new master, Risir, was far from her ideal. How could such a man have drawn the sword and awakened her true self? She found it a mystery.

One thing was certain, though: he didn’t deserve her.

Having made up her mind, Clana immediately sought to break the resonance with Risir.

An object forsaking its master was a feat that would normally have been impossible, yet Clana’s powerful will made it possible. She had always been the one to choose, and also the one to cast away.

Just as she had one-sidedly drawn Risir into her inner world, she now intended to expel him.

“…”

“…?”

But Risir didn’t budge. He merely stood still, staring blankly at Clana.

“What is with this guy?”

She shook her head, drawing her sword with a sharp clang as she stepped toward Risir.

If she couldn’t drive him out, she would just make him leave on his own.

In the outside world, she was just an inanimate object, a bodiless weapon that relied on its owner, but here, she was as whole as she had been in life.

Clana kicked off the ground with booming force, shooting forward like an arrow, faster than the eye could follow. By the time Risir’s gaze barely caught up with her, a cold blade was already at his neck.

But just as the sword was about to sever his head—

Whoom!

“…!”

The blade sliced through nothing.

An unknown force acted, returning Clana’s body to its original position.

But she didn’t care and launched forward again.

Whoom!

“…”

The process repeated itself, over and over, until the cold-blooded killer’s eyes were filled with confusion.

Eventually, she considered one possibility—that this place might not be her inner world.

“Impossible.”

Clana immediately dismissed the thought. For that unsettling possibility to be true, one premise had to hold: her ego would need to be bound to the other party’s. For instance, it could only happen if Risir were her master.

But that was impossible. Clana had never acknowledged him as her master. Since becoming an object, she had never had a master.

The masters of Blue Lotus all revered her and followed her without question, only to be discarded on a whim.

“Oi. Get me out of here.”

She ordered Risir in a cold voice, ready to overwhelm him with the oppressive aura of a killer who had once struck fear into the world.

“…!”

Suddenly, Clana’s senses sharpened, sending a warning to her.

The world turned upside down. The pure white space, where nothing but the two of them existed, transformed into an endless desert.

Whooosh!!!

A sandstorm swept across the vast desert, and with it, the scorching sun that had blazed overhead vanished, plunging the land into night.

It was a disaster—a realm of providence that human power couldn’t touch—yet it moved with its own will.

The storm raged toward Risir, roaring as it expressed its intentions.

“What, really?”

Despite it all, Risir remained calm, his eyes and posture suggesting he was facing nothing more than a child.

Clana felt a headache from the overwhelming confusion. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, the desert had vanished without a trace.

In the pure white space now before her, Risir and a small elemental stood facing each other. The two turned their gazes to Clana, and she instinctively took a step back.

“Wh-what in the world…”

A trembling voice slipped from the cold-blooded killer’s lips. What on earth was this place? And who were they?

“…!”

Another impossibility struck her at that moment.

Clana’s gaze drifted through the air, as if something could be seen in the place where nothing existed.

“Affinity…?”

“Oi!”

“…Yes? Ah.”

Risir snapped back to reality at Rodan’s call. About three minutes had passed since he fell into a daze after gripping the ego sword.

“What is it, what’s going on?!”

Swordmaster Riven Blade spoke in a flustered tone, sensing something off about Risir’s unusual reaction.

“Don’t tell me—you heard Master’s voice?!”

“…Indeed, I did.”

“…!”

Rodan rushed forward and grabbed Risir’s shoulder.

“What, what did she say?!”

“…”

Risir avoided Rodan’s gaze.

“I think she told me to be her disciple?”

“What?”

She, of all people, took on a new disciple? While I’m here?

Riven Blade’s eyes shook violently.