Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 56

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[Title: Uh, sorry, but my Karma is 361?]

Content: Seriously, Body Feather cut-off makes no sense.

I was trying to start the Saint Destiny Quest, but they said I need to pass the Body Feather cut-off.

Been grinding Destiny Quests that give a lot of Karma, but WTF, when is this supposed to unlock?

: "I think it’s like Tail Feather at 100, Wing Feather at 300, and Body Feather at 500."

-[OP]: "What the hell, 500?!"

-[OP]: "Isn’t that basically like clearing almost every Destiny Quest?": "Actually, there are Event Quests that give even more Karma than Destiny Quests."

-[OP]: "Does that even make sense? Destiny Quests are supposed to be way bigger in scale.": "There’s that Event Quest where you save a ton of dark mage sacrifices—it gives a ridiculous amount of Karma.": "What’s the criteria, though?"

-[OP]: "Maybe it’s like... Destiny Quests happen after everything’s already gone to hell, so even if you fix it, Karma doesn’t go up much. But with that quest, you’re preventing the disaster, so you get more Karma?": "That actually sounds plausible."

-[OP]: "Then why not design the system around that logic?!": "Why are you playing this game if you’re gonna complain? Wanna die?"

-[OP]: "Why the sudden hostility?!": "Ahem, that’s... the developer’s intention."

-[OP]: "Ah, I see."

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***

The gradually dimming Purity Feather caught Bardros’s gaze, her black eyes trembling slightly.

“This is… the Body Feather?”

The Purity Feather Gerhen had claimed was a Tail Feather was, in fact, a Body Feather deliberately altered to appear less potent.

Realizing the deceitful intent behind Gerhen’s actions, Bardros instinctively turned to Lisir, scrutinizing him with her divine sight.

It was just as it had been when she first saw him.

Even with her sight, capable of discerning the essence of others, she couldn’t pierce the mystery of this man.

Her divine sight revealed only one unshakable truth:

He was someone who could never be associated with evil.

It was as though an inexplicable force etched his benevolence into her very being, leaving no room for doubt.

This was unprecedented. The divine sight had always provided fragmentary insights, tools for forming judgments. Never before had it defined someone’s essence so clearly.

Bardros had already recognized Lisir’s extraordinary nature—

but this? This was beyond her expectations.

“The Body Feather hasn’t dimmed at all.”

Bardros reflected on her years within the Church. For young people, it would feel like an eternity. For her, it had been countless acts of good and a lifetime of service.

Her accumulated karma was something ordinary priests would require multiple lifetimes to achieve.

And yet, here stood Lisir, having surpassed her achievements at such a young age.

How?

Had he saved an entire city from ruin? Vanquished some great evil threatening the world?

Whatever the case, such feats seemed impossible.

Her gaze shifted to those accompanying Lisir, and she froze when she noticed one among them.

“My goodness.”

The sight of the pure, unblemished girl left Bardros momentarily speechless.

How could she reconcile the presence of such a being with Lisir’s own enigmatic nature?

Her questions about the wandering young mage only deepened.

“High Priest?”

Lisir’s voice pulled her back to the present.

She had been lost in thought but knew now was not the time for distractions.

Bardros returned the Purity Feather to Lisir, then addressed the crowd.

“This is a genuine Purity Feather.”

There was no need to emphasize Lisir’s exceptional nature or expose Gerhen’s deceit.

“The Tail Feather didn’t react at all…”

“Isn’t that something only the Church’s priests can manage?”

“Specifically, only ordained priests. It’s a requirement for formal promotion.”

Lisir’s feather remained pristine.

“But Gerhen’s feather burned to ash…?”

“What the hell has he been doing?”

“With the Tail Feather, even criminals would only darken it slightly. This is absurd.”

The stark contrast between Lisir’s pure feather and Gerhen’s incinerated one was impossible for the crowd to ignore.

They were captivated, their perceptions and loyalties swayed by the striking disparity.

Exactly as Gerhen had planned—just not in his favor.

“No… no!”

Gerhen muttered in disbelief, frustration boiling over.

These fools! Did they think him an idiot? Why would he tarnish his own reputation just to highlight someone else’s uniqueness?

Couldn’t they see how strange this situation was?

Yet he knew the moment he opened his mouth to shout, any words of protest would only turn against him.

"Aren’t you the one behind all this? Why are you blaming us?"

That’s exactly the response he’d receive.

“Master Gerhen,” Lisir called out, addressing him politely.

“Are you satisfied now?”

Lisir’s tone was formal, his demeanor courteous, but his sly smile told a different story.

It was as if his expression whispered:

“You’re exhausting. Can you leave now?”

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Grinding his teeth, Gerhen’s composure snapped. Fury clouded his judgment as he began shouting incoherently.

“Noble students of the Mage Tower! Hear me! I know nothing of this! The Purity Feather was procured by my assistant, Korhan!”

“…!”

All eyes turned to a small, wiry man standing at the edge of the aristocratic faction.

Korhan, a lowly apprentice mage and Gerhen’s assistant, had entered the Mage Tower as a commoner, solely due to Gerhen’s strong recommendation.

"Never forget the debt you owe me for your place in this tower."

"Remember your position at all times."

Gerhen’s words had kept Korhan in a state of psychological dependence, ensuring his absolute loyalty.

Now, cornered and trembling like a frog before a snake, Korhan stood frozen, his head bowed and shoulders quivering.

“Korhan! Explain this at once!”

Korhan weighed his options: take the fall for Master Gerhen or defy his will.

He chose the former. A powerless commoner mage could not afford the wrath of an aristocrat leading the faction. No one would support him otherwise.

But just as Korhan resigned himself to his fate, a voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.

“The Purity Feather is genuine, isn’t it?”

It was Lisir.

“Y-yes!?”

Korhan flinched, startled.

“Surely he’s not speaking to me?”

He glanced around, noticing for the first time the sympathetic looks from the students.

Gerhen’s shadow no longer loomed as large as it once had. The crowd’s attention had shifted.

Many now sided with Lisir, the outcast, rather than Gerhen, the noble master.

Caught in this atmosphere, Korhan finally spoke up.

“I… I don’t know anything about this…”

Of course he didn’t. Gerhen would never entrust such a crucial plan to an apprentice.

“But there is one thing I do know…”

Korhan recalled seeing Gerhen that night. While he worked late into the evening, handling the endless tasks Gerhen had piled on him, he had spotted his master sneaking out toward the underground labyrinth.

“Master Gerhen… there were only two reasons you’d head there at such an hour… the research storage or the underground maze. But if it were the storage, you would have sent me. Why go there yourself, under the cover of darkness?”

The students murmured among themselves, questions arising.

Lisir had been accused by a dark mage’s sudden confession.

Who stood to gain the most from that confession?

“Master Gerhen.”

This time, Bardros’s gaze sharpened, her voice taking on a commanding tone.

“To protect yourself, you coerced a dark mage into false testimony and slandered an innocent man. That warrants inquiry.”

“You… you have no authority here!” Gerhen spat back, his composure slipping.

Meltas, who had been waiting patiently, raised his hand.

“I, Master Meltas, propose that we formally involve the Church to investigate this matter.”

“I second this motion,” Didoa added swiftly, her presence lending weight to the proposal.

One by one, the other mages raised their hands in agreement, even members of Gerhen’s own faction.

“Wait… how could you all…”

Gerhen glared at them, feeling the sting of betrayal.

Finally, his eyes locked onto Lisir, burning with hatred.

But as he moved to act on his fury, a chilling voice stopped him cold.

“Do not do anything foolish, Gerhen.”

The icy tone snapped Gerhen back to his senses, and he realized his predicament.

The Mage Tower, once a fortress of hierarchy and tradition, now stood against him.

For the sake of an outcast—a mere wandering mage named Lisir.

Gerhen lowered his head, a bitter sense of defeat washing over him.

***

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▷Event 44: The Exhausted Mage - Deactivated.

Rewards have been distributed accordingly.

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▷Event 56: The Defiled Dream - Deactivated.

▷Event 94: The Preserved Butterfly - Deactivated.

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...

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Rewards have been distributed accordingly.

Rewards have been distributed accordingly.

Rewards have been distributed accordingly.

Rewards have been distributed accordingly.

Rewards have been distributed accordingly.

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▷Region: The Gray Mage Tower - Deactivated.

Rewards have been distributed accordingly.

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***

"Hah."

It turns out that even causing a scene like this requires an immense amount of stamina and drive.

Gerhen, exhausted from his tirades, finally gave up and lowered his head. The sight prompted a deep sigh from me.

Who would have thought I’d end up involved in such a hassle while simply coming here for a check-up?

Next to me, Master Meltas gave a wry chuckle.

“Sorry for dragging you into this mess, Lisir. Though I suppose it might be some consolation that this will probably expedite any issues involving you.”

“Oh, consolation? Absolutely. I suddenly feel so energized—”

The phrase was barely out of my mouth when I felt it.

A surge of energy, rushing up from within me.

Wait.

No, this isn’t just energy.

It’s… that again?

“This man. He’s at it again,” someone muttered.

“My goodness, Lisir. Can’t you ever control your mana? You’re always increasing it at the most random times!”

“Hey, come on, guys. It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose—”

Here we go again, another abrupt increase in mana. By now, it wasn’t just familiar—it was tiresome.

The three of us traded lighthearted jokes as if it were nothing, laughing it off.

That is, until—

“Cough!”

It hit me all at once, the realization that I was in a state of overload.

"..."

"..."

Both Meltas and the High Priestess turned their eyes on me, their gazes sharp.

“Damn it—cough! Cough!”

Blood splattered across my palm as I pressed it against my mouth.

A few suspicious clumps stuck to my hand, and I desperately hoped they were just phlegm.

Panic began to set in.

Wasn’t mana supposed to stabilize after an increase like this?

But I hadn’t even used my stabilizing ability today.

“Gah—ah—”

My eyes felt as though they were about to burst from their sockets, and I clamped them shut, trying to endure the strain.

That’s when I felt it.

Something warm and wet slid down from my closed eyes.

Please. Tell me this is just tears.

“Tears, right? They’re tears, aren’t they?” I whispered to myself, praying.

“Ahhhh! Lisir!”

Nope. Definitely not tears.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed forward.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of something with four legs hurried toward me, and soon a warm, wet sensation brushed against my face.

It was Perrin. She was licking me.

Surprisingly, the places she licked seemed to fill with a faint vitality, a warmth spreading from her touch.

But it wasn’t nearly enough to fix what was happening to me.

“P-please, High Priestess, we need help!”

“Help him, quickly!”

I could feel every hair on my body stand on end. My body had entered a state far beyond my control.

“Cough—cough—”

Each breath became harder to take.

The pain was indescribable.

I’d never imagined I’d experience something like this in my life.

The harder I tried to breathe, the sharper the pain became, as if my body was tearing itself apart.

“Ahhh… gahhh…”

But instead of giving in, I kept forcing myself to focus on breathing. I didn’t know why, but somehow, it felt like the right thing to do.

Acting on instinct, I struggled for every breath.

And then I realized something.

The mana that was trying to burst free from the narrow confines of my body—

it was responding to my breathing.

It was a strange sensation.

After all, magic was supposed to be the manipulation of mana through the mind.

Mana reacting to the body? That was beyond the scope of traditional magic.

Then what was this?

“Blue Breath…”

The thought emerged unbidden, a memory from my childhood as an outcast.

It was a technique that contrasted sharply with the foundational principles of magic. A fundamental skill of martial arts, one that the knights of the realm wielded with precision and grace.

It was something I had once desperately desired but could never attain.

Now, instinctively, I was harnessing it.

The mana, which had been threatening to overflow and shatter my body, began to slowly merge with it instead.

***

"High Priestess, quickly...!"

Pien’s voice trembled as she pleaded desperately with Bardros, her expression on the verge of tears.

By then, Bardros had already moved closer to Lisir, her divine power prepared and ready to be unleashed.

"Wait—just a moment."

The words came from no one else but Lisir himself, halting her.

“Huff… huff…”

His labored breathing filled the air as he struggled to speak.

"Just… just give me a moment…"

"Lisir!? What are you saying?!"

"Just a moment… please… just a moment…"

Lisir’s voice was faint, but his tone was resolute. It was as if his mind was elsewhere, drawn to something beyond the present moment.

Bardros frowned, recognizing a familiar look in his eyes.

The dazed, distracted gaze of patients from the past flashed in her memory.

Was Lisir perhaps in a state of delirium?

No, she couldn’t leave the decision to him. His judgment couldn’t be trusted right now.

Resolving to act, Bardros moved to proceed with the healing—

"...!"

—but suddenly, an expression of surprise crossed her face.

Her gaze fell to Lisir’s chest. His breathing, though labored, was steady and rhythmic.

And with every rise and fall of his chest, his mana moved in tandem, responding to his breaths.

Bardros blinked in astonishment, memories of extraordinary individuals from the past coming to mind. Those who had mastered their physical forms through breath, controlling their injuries with sheer willpower.

“Blue Breath…?”

For once, the High Priestess lost her composure.

A mage—of all people—manifesting techniques that belonged to warriors?

“Lisir?”

The next to notice the anomaly were Lisir’s companions—Pien, Meltas, and Perrin. They watched, mesmerized, as his condition began to stabilize before their eyes.

One by one, the other mages present turned their attention to Lisir, sensing the strange phenomenon emanating from him.

Through it all, Lisir’s breathing grew steadier, more controlled.

This wasn’t mere mental manipulation of mana.

It was something beyond the ordinary boundaries of magic.

He wasn’t simply containing the mana within his body; he was harmonizing it with his physical form.

The collapse of his body, overwhelmed by mana, was gradually being delayed. The vitality that had been draining from him was replaced by a newly generated flow of energy.

One of the mages murmured under their breath.

“Could it be… is he learning mana breathing in real time…?”

Though no one acknowledged the remark outwardly, the thought reverberated silently in every mind.

In the stillness, the only sound was Lisir’s rhythmic breathing.

“Guh—”

It was Lisir himself who broke the silence.

He had pushed himself too far.

Judging that he could no longer endure, he let out a faint gasp before collapsing, unconscious.

"Now! Please, save him!"

It was perhaps the strangest cry for help any of them had ever heard.

Despite her initial shock, Bardros quickly snapped into action, beginning the healing process.

Meanwhile, someone else muttered in the background.

“But… wasn’t he reported to be just at the threshold of the Fourth Rank? I’m sure that’s what the Tulan case file stated…”

Though no one responded aloud, every person present turned the thought over in their mind, the weight of its implications sinking in.

***

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■ Lisir

Level: 38

Race: Human

Class: Mage, Knight

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How much time had passed since the incident that turned the Mage Tower upside down?

Lisir opened his eyes, finding himself in an unfamiliar bed. He nodded solemnly to himself.

"So… an angel… Could it be…? I must have died."

The words were directed at Pien, who was sitting beside him, watching over him with a wry expression.

Sigh.

Pien let out a laugh mixed with exasperation.

"Rona and the High Priestess would be so proud. You wake up and the first thing out of your mouth is absolute nonsense."

"Rona and the High Priestess…?"

"Yes. While you were unconscious, those two priests worked tirelessly to save you. When you see them, you’d better thank them properly."

Pien clapped her hands sharply, breaking the mood.

"Now, to celebrate your recovery, I have one good piece of news and one bad piece of news. Which do you want first?"

"How about we start with how long I’ve been out?"

"About two weeks."

"...And there’s worse news than that?"

"Your Mage Tower supporter status is still on hold."

"Did I wake up too soon? Should I just lie down for another hundred years?"

"Feel free."

"...And the good news?"

"The reason why your supporter status is still on hold."

"What?"

"The Mage Tower doesn’t want you to be a supporter anymore. They want you to become an honorary mage instead."

"...All of a sudden?"

Pien looked off into the distance and chuckled softly.

"Sleeping beauty, you have no idea what’s been happening while you’ve been peacefully snoring away."