Chapter 91: Blue Lotus, Clana

All swordmasters of the era had once received his teachings, for he was the great origin of the sword.

The elderly swordsman known as Originblade spoke.

“You’re not what the rumors say.”

He stood before a swordswoman. Word had it she was a lunatic, driven by bloodlust and battle frenzy.

But Originblade had seen countless swordsmen and countless young warriors. He could tell that she was different.

“Child. You are no lunatic seized by frenzy. Are you not?”

“…”

“Those unwavering, upright eyes. Even among my disciples, few possess such eyes. All of them were children born with great qualities destined to leave their mark on history. Child…”

Originblade continued in a lamenting tone.

“Born with such an upright and strong will, how could you have fallen onto such a wrong path?”

His voice was affectionate, as if addressing his own disciple.

Regardless, Blue Lotus merely wore a sharp sneer, as if deeming the question too foolish to answer.

She panted. Harsh, ragged breaths escaped her lips, which curled into a sharp, hook-like grin. Blood dripped from her sword—and from the wounds etched across her body.

She drew in a deep breath, held it for a long moment, then slowly exhaled, as if savoring the thick scent of blood that hung in the air.

“…”

A rare flicker of astonishment crossed the weathered face of the veteran swordsman as he realized that her breathing had already steadied.

On the other hand…

“Huff…! Huff…!”

The other swordmaster—Sword Emperor—who had been crossing blades with her just moments ago, was still struggling to steady his breath.

“Astonishing…”

Originblade felt a surge of pure admiration, momentarily forgetting that Blue Lotus was a murderous fiend responsible for countless deaths. The self-control and breathing technique she displayed had reached a level even he had never witnessed.

“How could such a monster…”

She was in perfect control.

In this moment, where blood and steel clashed wildly—painting a portrait of death—happiness filled her. Her ragged breaths weren’t driven by excitement, but were simply an expression of that deep, abiding fulfillment.

She wasn’t the mindless beast the world believed her to be, ruled by instinct and savagery. She was a monster who craved blood and slaughter with reason and intellect.

“Argon. Correct your stance.”

At his master’s words, Sword Emperor assumed he intended to take over the fight.

“From now on, we attack together.”

“…Master?”

Sword Emperor couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew exactly what it meant for swordmasters, whose pride in their blades bordered on obsession, to strike in unison.

A flicker of resistance stirred within him, but…

“We must end that thing here.”

The look on his master’s face left him no room to argue.

“…Understood.”

A coordinated attack by the greatest swordmaster and his disciple.

For the first time, the fiend’s expression twisted slightly, as if perturbed.

“Haah…”

Her breath deepened, not from exhaustion, but from a swelling sense of fulfillment. Even now, she was thrilled with anticipation for the battle, and for the blood yet to spill.

“…”

The gap in power was undeniable; the roles of hunter and prey had already been set. And yet, for some reason, a trace of fear stirred within the commanding aura of the two hunters.

That day, a fierce battle raged on a nameless plain. A battle that would never be written into history.

In that clash, Originblade lost an arm. Both he and the Sword Emperor lost their most treasured ego swords. The spirits housed within them were devoured by the fiend’s will. One mind had consumed four.

And still, Originblade would later call that battle—where he lost so much—a stroke of fortune. The fiend’s hunger would never have been sated if she were left alive.

Blue Lotus was a monster who could only know joy through battle and slaughter.

Joy steeped in blood and flesh.

A shrill moan pierced the air. It slipped from Clana’s lips as she struggled to steady her breath, which had been disrupted by an unexpected sensation.

“…!”

Her already flushed face turned a deeper shade, this time not from pleasure but from shame, humiliation, and anger—emotions far removed from the earlier flicker of joy.

Soon, a venomous expression took hold of her features, coalescing all that negativity. She centered herself, directing every ounce of focus into controlling her breath.

There was no hesitation. Breath and control were her greatest weapons.

Countless warriors had granted Blue Lotus the first move—only to become her prey. They had spilled blood and groans in her wake, feeding the joy of the murderous fiend, and all for good reason.

Nothing could disrupt her breath and control.

“Ah…”

…Or so it should have been.

As moans kept slipping between her measured breaths, Clana’s proud composure began to crack, tinged with confusion.

What unsettled her most wasn’t the loss of control. It was the unfamiliar emotion driving it.

Damn it, damn it, damn it…What is this—what is it…?!

Clana vaguely realized that the emotion gripping her was happiness, and its intensity rivaled the joy she felt in slaughter.

Don’t make me laugh…

She rejected the idea with every fiber of her being. Only slaughter had ever given her life clarity and meaning.

“Haa…Haa…”

But dismissing it wasn’t as easy as she wanted to believe.

How long had it been since she died at the hands of the two swordmasters, becoming nothing more than a disembodied soul?

In all that time, she hadn’t tasted direct slaughter even once. Her soul had withered like a barren wasteland, and this sudden surge of joy was truly like welcome rain in a drought.

Wandering without a body, drying up bit by bit, she was feeling the vividness of life for the first time in ages. It was a fulfillment she wanted to willingly surrender to and savor.

But she couldn’t. Not now.

Risir…!!!

This happiness had come after she demonstrated a sword form to him, as if it were a reward for indulging his request for instruction.

If she yielded to that feeling, how would she be any different from a slave desperate for their master’s praise?

The worst part was, her situation wasn’t far off from that. And the recognition of it only deepened the humiliation.

That was why Clana had absolutely no intention of accepting or craving this happiness.

Filthy worm. No matter how long it takes, I swear to escape and kill you.

She fed her hatred for him, using it like a whetstone to scrape away at the unwelcome joy. Gradually, it receded.

Of course, there was no way to know if her effort had truly worked, or if the happiness had simply run its course.

Good.

Finally, having shaken it off, Clana resumed her breathing. Her true breath—calm and quiet, like the stillness of a moonlit night.

That controlled breath brought serenity back to her body and mind.

“…”

And yet, an odd unrest began to stir within that peace, like a burning desire. Her throat itched. Her body refused to be still.

Frustrated, she sat up sharply, her gaze moving instinctively in search of Risir. He had already left the inner world, off to internalize the sword movements she’d shown him.

Realizing this, Clana heaved a sigh of relief.

From what she learned while attacking him, he was a complete novice when it came to martial arts. His body was trained, but that was all.

The movement she had shown him was a simple, foundational technique from her sword style—yet it was also the core motion upon which everything else was built.

For a beginner, it would take immense time to truly grasp the essence of that movement. In other words, she had an assured period of freedom from him while he worked through it.

There was a chance he might use his dominance over the inner world to order her to teach him more specifically, but even then, there was no problem. That would clearly exceed her abilities.

Her sword style wasn’t systematic. It was the culmination of instinct and movements honed over countless battles, an amalgamation of her experiences on the path of slaughter.

That was the essence of her sword techniques, the Clana Style.

Passing on her skills in a detailed, systematic manner was nearly impossible. Only inheritance through sensation was possible—constant repetition until the body understood.

Her style was complex, unconventional, and difficult for even skilled swordsmen to counter. Risir would soon realize this and give up on his own.

“…”

Clana felt satisfied, imagining Risir’s discouraged face when things didn’t go his way.

Afterward, she spent time thinking about Risir and the countless possibilities surrounding him.

Just thinking about him made her blood boil, but what could she do? That was all there was to do in this quiet, empty inner world. He was the only one connected to her now.

It was inevitable, then, that Clana found herself consumed by thoughts of Risir.

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

Not long after their encounter in the inner world, Risir summoned her to review his movements. He wanted her to leave his inner world and possess the ego sword.

However, Clana not only refused to possess the ego sword, but also chose to ignore Risir’s call.

It was a silent protest. She was essentially saying, “Even if I am inevitably dominated by your power, I will never obey you willingly.”

Clana wore a satisfied smile as Risir’s summons ceased. He must have realized that the only way to get what he wanted from her was to enter the inner world himself and assert his dominance.

Clana steeled herself, preparing for the decisive moment that would soon come—vowing she would never be subjected to his will as she had been before.

Then, suddenly, Clana found herself feeling anticipation. Why?

Clana convinced herself it must be anticipation for revenge.

She dismissed the bewilderment.

Had her intentions worked more effectively than expected?

No matter how long she waited, he didn’t come to the inner world.

Clana celebrated alone in the quiet, empty inner world.

“…”

How strange, though. This quiet and emptiness, which she had thought nothing of, suddenly felt suffocating.

Clana felt an inexplicable anxiety.

Two days had passed since Risir began staying at Lan’s manor.

During that time, Risir had secluded himself in the garden attached to his room, dedicating himself to mastering the sword movements Clana had shown him.

He performed the motions in front of a mirror set up in the garden. Surprisingly plausible movements unfolded. Contrary to Clana’s expectations or wishes, Risir had grasped the essence of those movements.

He himself was surprised. Did he have this much talent for the sword?

No way.

If he had, it would have shone through back when he was in Bendel.

It’s probably thanks to the power of the ego sword I obtained.

The imagery of sword techniques Risir absorbed from Blue Lotus belonged to Clana. By accepting it all, Risir gained a profound understanding of the Clana Style, as manifested through that imagery.

If only Clana’s full cooperation were added, the succession of the Clana Style would proceed at an astonishing pace.

“Hm…”

Nevertheless, Risir was currently floundering, unable to gain Clana’s cooperation. The memory of the moment he exerted dominance over her lingered unpleasantly.

She considered herself a murderous fiend. She had attacked him in the inner world, attempting to seize control, and had deceived Rodan, who respected her as his master.

Risir had assumed he wouldn’t feel any guilt exploiting her—a person so evil—and indeed, he didn’t.

But his hesitation stemmed from something unexpected.

Risir recalled Clana’s submission, her willingness to obey commands regardless of her own will. He had felt a strange revulsion at manipulating someone else in that manner.

It wouldn’t have felt so uncomfortable if I’d blackmailed her instead, or done something else…

Thus, Risir was avoiding contact with Clana in the inner world. Of course, only as much as possible.

He performed the same move he had been practicing in front of the mirror.

“I think it’s about time…”

He could glean nothing new from the movement he had repeated and analyzed countless times.

Is this the limit I can reach through self-study?

It was time for additional instruction.

I’ll try to avoid forcing her actions as much as possible…

Risir decided on his approach and closed his eyes. Soon, the inner world unfolded before his eyes, and a familiar situation played out.

The fiend commenced her attack.

For some reason, her movements were more explosive than before, as if thirsting for something.

The power gap was clear. Risir couldn’t do anything and ended up pinned beneath Clana.

The weight on his pelvis completely restricted his lower body movement. The pressure on his upper body controlled his arms thoroughly.

Damn this woman…How would I even fight her if we met in the real world?

Risir let out a hollow laugh. He had just resolved to avoid forcing her actions, yet here he was, trapped in a situation he couldn’t escape without compulsion.

Well, it was only natural. She possessed a tyrannical nature—enough to call herself a fiend—and wielded enough brute strength for a swordmaster to regard her as a master.

Furthermore, she was furious about being bound to another’s inner world.

To think he could handle such a being without the dominance of the inner world—it was arrogance beyond measure.

Guess there’s no choice.

But just as Risir was about to exert his power over her…

“…”

Clana’s haughty expression contorted as she looked down at him.

“Damn it…”

She released his arms and stood up with unnatural movements, as though forced by an invisible power.

“Cowardly bastard…”

“?”

Did I force her to move?

But I don’t think I did?

Just as Risir was feeling confused, Clana spoke.

“I’ve said it a thousand times, I have no teachings to bestow upon the likes of you. Get lost.”

“…!”

For a moment, Risir was overwhelmed by her aura. Her appearance—looking ready to pounce at any moment—was truly that of a starved beast.

And if she was starved for something, it was surely murderous intent toward him.

She’s in a particularly bad mood today.

If he compelled her actions, her erratic mood would surely intensify, and he would no doubt feel even worse about it.

No other choice, then. I’ll wait just one more day.

Risir turned, intending to leave the inner world.

But then…

“W-Wait…!”

“?”

Clana desperately grabbed his sleeve.

“Damn it, this again…I have no choice…”

Her muttered words sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

Risir tilted his head at the sight of Clana awkwardly attempting to demonstrate her techniques.

My dominance over her…it’s not active, is it?