Chapter 92: Spell? Sword?

The moment Risir showed signs of leaving the inner world, Clana felt a stifling pressure constricting her solar plexus—an unpleasant yet poignant sensation she had never felt before.

It was clear he had exerted his power over her again. Therefore, clinging to him and speaking subserviently had nothing to do with her own will. There was no reason to hold back, no reason to be ashamed.

“Wait. I’ll give you what you desire.”

“…”

“Detestable man. Isn’t it enough that you make me do this? That look in your eyes…how much shame do you want to inflict upon me?”

How much shame did he want to inflict upon her?

Risir took a moment to reflect on himself.

…I don’t think I’m interested in that?

Upon checking, his power wasn’t affecting her. Then what in the world was wrong with her attitude?

Risir decided not to think too deeply about it. It was ultimately a good thing for him. There was no reason to deliberately stir up trouble while she was being cooperative.

For now, the best course of action was probably to play along with her scenario(?) and take what he wanted.

Having finished his thoughts, Risir produced a sly smile. Perhaps this is how she thought (wished) he looked?

“How much shame will you suffer…? Well. Doesn’t that depend on how you conduct yourself?”

“Urgh—”

Clana gritted her teeth in humiliation, yet a faint gleam of interest flickered in her eyes. Risir’s actions had granted her absolution.

Yes, I knew it. Look at his attitude. My actions are completely unrelated to my will, so this is unavoidable.

Feeling even the faint remnants of shame and hesitation in her disappear, Clana acted eagerly. She once again performed the movement she had previously shown Risir.

She assumed that he wouldn’t have grasped the subtlety contained within the movement.

“Right. With your paltry insight, you probably see nothing. However, you’d do well not to demand more than this from me. Teaching others isn’t my specialty, and a fool who can’t even understand this simple movement will gain nothing from my sword.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Will you show me the next movement?”

“Hah, how did I end up like this…”

Clana sighed and repeated the movement.

“No, that’s enough of that now. The next movement.”

“?”

Didn’t asking for the next movement mean asking to see it again?

Clana felt bewildered for a moment.

“Hopeless. Trying to cut corners already? What do you think will change by looking at the second step when you haven’t mastered the first?”

She sneered with contempt—but that was all. She didn’t feel particularly disappointed. After all, disappointment stemmed from expectation.

Clana never thought Risir could master her sword in the first place.

Her role, as she saw it, was to indulge the bravado of the arrogant brat before her until he understood his place.

“Ah, then since we’re on the topic, could you check my posture? I’ve tried my best to get it right.”

Clana scoffed and tipped her chin in a dismissive gesture. Taking it as a signal, Risir stepped forward and took his stance.

At first glance, it looked like an ordinary overhead slash. But woven into the motion was Clana’s unique breathing technique, a stillness so refined it blurred the line between inhale and exhale.

The shifting blade, the brushing of his robes, the advancing footfall, the all-encompassing breath—none of it made a sound. The silence was like a shadow gliding through moonlight.

Prey only noticed the wounds on their bodies after glimpsing them in their own moonlit reflections.

He had perfectly mirrored the movements of the murderous fiend, Blue Lotus.

“How is it?”

“…Again.”

Clana muttered it unconsciously, asking him to repeat the motion. Once, twice, over and over.

How long had it been since he began performing the same movement, endlessly, without pause?

At last, Risir voiced his dissatisfaction to Clana, who kept repeating “again” in a flat, hollow tone.

“Can’t you tell me what the problem is in words?”

“…”

Clana couldn’t grant Risir’s request.

Because she had absolutely no interest in playing the role of a kind teacher?

No. It was because there was nothing to criticize in Risir’s movements. That was why she demanded the repetition.

Clana struggled to accept the fact that Risir had flawlessly replicated her movement.

Of course, it wasn’t perfect, but that was purely a difference in proficiency. He had accurately grasped the subtlety and meaning within the movement and made it his own.

All this happened after witnessing the movement just once and in only a few days.

“…!”

Suddenly, Clana’s breath caught.

Her sword, wielded by another; her technique, understood by someone else…

She imagined the moment Risir would cut someone down with Blue Lotus in his hand.

Her heart pounded. It wasn’t the thrill of slaughter, nor the hollow bliss he could impose upon her. It was something else entirely—a new kind of emotion, one she’d never felt anywhere before, flooding through her completely.

“Damn it…My sword, in the hands of the likes of you…”

Clana forced herself to feign displeasure, then executed the next movement—the advancing footwork that flowed seamlessly into the overhead slash.

“…”

Risir studied the motion closely, then gave a slight nod.

Without hesitation, he exited the inner world to begin internalizing it in earnest.

“Ah…!”

Clana stared at the spot where Risir had stood, an unconscious sigh escaping her lips.

It was then that the familiar feeling of happiness washed over her.

“Ah…”

She crouched down, trying to steady herself.

“Damn it, damn it…!”

Curses spilled from her lips, again and again, yet she had no idea what kind of expression she wore now.

When the storm of emotion finally passed, only one thought lingered in Clana’s mind.

How is he doing…?

The joy of slaughter, the happiness brought by dominance—none of it interested her anymore. She was simply curious about Risir, wielding the sword.

It was the moment the fiend began to understand human emotion.

<Too many unnecessary habits.>

“Mm?”

Risir heard a voice as he practiced the new movement in front of the garden mirror, and looked at Blue Lotus in his hand.

Clana—who hadn’t responded no matter how many times he called—was now possessing the sword as if she’d been there all along.

“What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

<…Too many unnecessary habits.>

“So what’s with the sudden change of heart?”

<Shut it.>

Clana dismissed the reasonable question with effort, stubbornly saying her piece.

<Why do you keep letting your mana linger on the surface? Are you planning to launch a surprise magic attack?>

Her jab was laced with dry sarcasm.

To her, Risir’s mana control felt bizarrely unnatural for a swordsman. Truthfully, it was like watching a mage flail around with a sword.

“Oh, that’s a good idea.”

<?>

“?”

<Are you mocking me back because I mocked you?>

“Huh? Was that sarcasm?”

<?>

“?”

<Don’t tell me you seriously meant that nonsense?>

“I mean…didn’t you bring it up first? Besides, I think it’s a good idea.”

<Cut it out. Distracting with the sword then ambushing with magic? Do you think you’re some kind of mage?>

“?”

<?>

Risir stared at Blue Lotus, and an awkward silence hung in the air for a moment.

“Well, for now…I am trying to make good use of magic…”

<My goodness. So that’s the cause of all those trash habits ingrained in your body.>

-Mastah!

A third voice suddenly interjected from inside the room.

It was Dan’Galeon—the gray crystal orb on the desk—who had been watching Risir’s training while showering him with praise like, “What a valiant strike!” and “No devil could withstand Mastah’s footwork!”

-Magic is a higher power than swordsmanship! Pay no mind to the ramblings of a worm who couldn’t even preserve her own body!

<?>

-?

“?”

The gazes of the two worms, who both failed to even preserve their own bodies, seemed to clash in mid-air.

Risir watched the silent standoff between the two inanimate objects with great interest.

Sensing his gaze, Dan’Galeon cried out to him.

-Mastah! Don’t tell me you equate Dan’Galeon the Scorching Black Flame with a mere lump of metal?!!!

“Erm, well…if we’re categorizing things, wouldn’t you both fall into the same category? Egos bound to physical objects.”

-…!

Dan’Galeon was shocked. Could there be a more demeaning way to refer to a sealing stone containing a powerful devil?

<Oi. Am I not your master?>

“To be honest, I perceive you more as a very useful sword than a master.”

<…!>

Clana was shocked. She didn’t care about being treated as a master, but even so, that was a bit much…

Thus ended Risir’s verbal slaughter—courtesy of the only one among them who had managed to keep his body.

-Anyway, Mastah! There is no need for Mastah to abandon your dedication to magic just to learn mere swordsmanship! Dare I suggest, walk the path of magic with me, Dan’Galeon! A sublime realm that lump of metal could never show you awaits us, Mastah!

“I’m already walking it, though. The path of magic I mean.”

-?

<?>

A moment later, Clana managed to suppress her bewilderment and spoke.

<Still, it’s fortunate. That you found your aptitude before delving too deep into magic.>

“Is that so?”

<Yes. Had you reached even the 4th rank, your body’s constitution would have completely solidified, making it impossible to accept swordsmanship.>

“?”

<?>

“Actually, I reached the 6th rank not long ago.”

<?>

-?

“Here—”

Risir abruptly shifted from Blue Breath—a breathing technique that guided mana through the body—to ordinary respiration.

A sandstorm began to swirl at his fingertips, magic imbued purely with his unique aura. It was clear proof that he had reached the 6th rank.

Clana eventually spoke, her voice sharp with disbelief.

<Who was the moron?>

“Excuse me?”

<The one who taught Blue Breath to a mage like you. Did they even explain it properly? Learning Blue Breath at your rank could easily cause mana overload.>

“Ah, is that so? I learned it on my own, so I didn’t know that.”

<…Why?>

“Huh?”

The murderous fiend was an embodiment of irrationality, the kind who usually invited questions. But now she asked one sincerely herself.

<Combining sword and magic is the height of inefficiency. You must feel it too.>

“I don’t really feel—”

<Shut up and listen. Why? Why are you trying to learn the sword now?>

Deep down, the fiend coveted Risir as a disciple. Her question was a serious attempt to grasp who he really was.

“Ah, well…my magic power increases so fast that my body can’t keep up. So, yes. It’s to survive, I guess.”

<…>

-…

The fiend and the devil had witnessed countless swordsmen, but this was a first: someone learning swordsmanship because their magic power was growing too fast for their body to endure.

“Well then…shall we get back to the main topic?”

<…What?>

“Weren’t you about to correct my bad habits earlier? Let’s continue with that.”

<…Do as you please.>

“Huh?”

-That seems right to me too, Mastah.

The fiend and the devil eyed the human before them as if he were a mutant.

Councilor Gadum had been having a difficult time lately.

Two figures had emerged recently; the Master of the northern back alleys and the Saint of the eastern back alleys. As a result of their rapid expansion of power, the weight of Gadum’s name in the Bondalles underworld was fading by the day.

His power came from money, and that money from the profits of illegal enterprises buried deep in the city’s underbelly.

He was being pushed to the brink. If his territory shrank any further, his seat on the city council would be in jeopardy.

Lan…

Gadum recalled his recent meeting with Councilor Lan. She had asserted her authority by claiming credit for purging the cultists who’d been hiding in Bondalles.

Councilor Lan’s demand went as follows.

-Withdraw your guards completely from my district. From now on, House Pelroth will handle all security.

Complying would disrupt the “business” Gadum was secretly conducting in her area, and that was absolutely unacceptable.

So he took action. And now, he stood before three powerful individuals.

According to intel from an inside source, they were mercenaries hired by Lan to drive out the cultists. If he could buy them off, he could steal her credit and render her demands moot.

“Thinking of buying us off with money?”

Valrod, the disciple of the Red Tower Lord, responded with distaste.

As an expert in such matters, Gadum wasn’t flustered. He explained the conditions he had prepared. Terms that would make them casually discard flimsy values like friendship or honor with Councilor Lan.

“…”

Upon hearing the conditions, a clear look of deliberation appeared on their faces.

It couldn’t be helped. Gadum’s proposal was massive, capable of bringing benefits not just to them individually, but to the entire factions they represented.

As representatives, they couldn’t reject it lightly. These were terms Lan, who had sacrificed much to protect her integrity, could never hope to match.

“I swear on my name, Gadum, that this matter will never be distorted or leaked in a way that harms your reputation.”

He spoke as if he already had half the city in his pocket—including many from Lan’s own circle.

At that moment, the Devil Hunter Maldad broke the silence.

“Don’t tell me, you’ve already spoken with him too?”

“Who are you referring to?”

“The honorary mage of the Gray Tower.”

“Ah.”

Gadum nearly laughed.

This was a common misconception among outsiders.

The Gray Tower was unlike other mage towers backed by noble lineages and political power. In Bondalles, their influence was weak. Not even a Gray master mage would dare meddle in a councilor’s affairs—let alone an honorary one.

Eager to flaunt his sway, Gadum puffed his greasy cheeks with pride and smiled triumphantly.

“If any problems arise, I will take care of the fellow myself, so you need not worry about that.”

“…Take care?”

The three powerful figures recoiled in unison, leaving Gadum to wonder what exactly they’d imagined.

Eventually, they exchanged glances, then gave their reply.

“Let’s pretend this conversation never happened.”

“…?”