22 - Make Dark Fantasy Great Again

Dark Fantasy Normalization Chapter 22 > Book Rabbit - Web Novel Archive ────────── [The influence of the subject is too strong] [Attributes permanently decrease] ────────── ────────── ■Eron Level: 19 > 18 ────────── ────────── [The influence of the subject is too strong] ────────── ... ... ... *** "Eron?" "...Yes?" Eron snapped back to reality at the sound of Risir's voice. "Are you alright? Your complexion is—" "Oh, yes. I'm fine. Just feeling a bit tired. I was busy late into the night yesterday. I'll be better after some rest." What kept Eron's frayed consciousness intact was his pride. A pride not wanting to appear weak in front of an inferior man. Settling back into his seat, Eron forced a relaxed smile. "My power... has weakened?" Yet inwardly, his panic was enough that the smile felt contrived, different from his usual demeanor. Panic reveals a person’s true self. It was the moment Eron, for the first time, displayed his genuine feelings in front of others. "Why? Could it be mana backlash?" Magical power is akin to muscle. Growth is stimulated through triggers, but the process sometimes involves injury. This injury in magic is termed 'mana backlash.' Eron's power of enchantment is the ability to directly and indirectly interfere with another's mind. This delicate and complex power carried a higher probability of inducing a mana surge than ordinary magic. For example. Just the fact that the power of enchantment caused mana backlash wasn't an entirely strange situation. However, the problem lay in the subject. Mana backlash has its own peculiarities— "Because of such novices?" Eron recalled the faces of Marik's group, who he had used his enchanting power on. They were fledgling adventurers, not even reaching the second rank, matching his status. Did mana backlash occur because of such juveniles? It was akin to injuring muscles in a fight with children. "..." Of course, the situation could change if a third party were to intervene. Eron side-eyed Risir. Recalling, the mana backlash occurred precisely when he attempted to use his captivating power on Risir. Risir was different from Marik's group. He had identified himself as a magician and may possess some knowledge and resistance to mental magic. His rank, too, was clearly higher compared to Marik's companions. "A third rank?" Eron acknowledged the possibility that Risir could have been the one to trigger the variable of mana backlash. Of course, whether that probability was high was a separate matter. "Just barely, though. He had only just stepped into the entry of the third rank." "And yet, a third rank who can't even fully hide his power—" Such individuals were all too familiar to him. "Nothing more to see here." "Surely, he's someone who just sat back and let his noble family spoon-feed him into the third rank." Typically, the firstborn sons of noble houses would reach the third rank before their coming-of-age, and nobles usually considered this to be normal. They claimed it was due to the inherent qualities matching their noble heritage— But opinions varied. There were some, like Eron, who thought differently. Nobles grew up naturally exposed to mana from a young age. Furthermore, they received comprehensive education related to mana. These were 'opportunities' that those less privileged never had, absorbed as effortlessly as breathing. Given these circumstances, it was more unnatural not to reach the third rank before adulthood. Conversely, what if, with these conditions, they only barely reached the third rank after becoming adults? "Manufactured exceptionality." Eron had encountered numerous such nobles. They were, invariably, ordinary beings unable to break free from the mold. Eron liked them. They were easy, high-quality prey that thought themselves more special than they were. ...This was why Eron was in turmoil now. "Was the mana backlash on me because of mere things like this?" It was a special and tricky power. Not only did it require recognition but also appropriate countermeasures for proper handling. Yet look at that half-baked magician. He seemed neither responsive nor even aware of the situation. It was in this state of indecision and turmoil that Eron struggled helplessly. "...?" Suddenly, Eron felt an intense gaze and looked in that direction. A girl sat next to Risir. Fienne was looking at her with a meaningful gaze. Eron couldn't fully comprehend the complex emotions contained in that stare. —Ah. —I know. —That feeling. How could he possibly understand? That she had tried something similar before and met with significant failure, all the while hiding her unimaginable identity as a True Ancestor. That an unspoken bond of understanding had somehow formed between them. Ultimately, Fienne's gaze, filled with empathy and resonance, did not reach him— —A foolish thing. All Eron perceived in Fienne's gaze was pure disdain. "...!" In that instance. Eron realized everything and was overwhelmed by intense shock. The unease he initially sensed from Fienne was no illusion. His assumptions were wrong. Fienne wasn’t a powerless, pitiful girl but rather a skilled individual concealing her strength. And she was Risir’s bodyguard. Most likely—or certainly—she was the one who prompted the mana backlash. "Damn it, why am I only realizing this now—" Eron reproached himself. It was too late, and he had already given himself away. "What did she do? Did she deduce and fend off the nature of my power?" "No. No, if that were the case, she would have attacked me ages ago." "Perhaps—it was more likely a type of protective magic she cast on that mongrel, and it's warning me." "Or maybe—it could be a warning." Yes. A warning. With that possibility in mind, Eron regained some composure. What would be the reason for not immediately retaliating when a bodyguard’s charge had been meddled with, settling instead on just a warning? It was a judgment that it would be troublesome to confront him. Perhaps they sensed that the power gap wasn’t significant, or realized something about the nature of the enchanting force. "A reasonable judgment." The enchanter. Adventurers. And the half-baked aristocrat too. Everyone present, except for Fienne, was prey to the power of enchantment. Once the true battle commenced, Fienne would have to be mindful of all these elements while fighting. No, she would have to focus on her duty as a bodyguard. And the moment Risir got injured, even slightly, Fienne would be considered defeated. Such was the nature of a bodyguard's duty. 'As long as that burden named Risir is here, the initiative remains with me.' Finally, Eron reached a single conclusion. 'I must act first.' As soon as an opportunity arose, Fienne would immediately ensure Risir's safety by hiding him away. 'And then she would try to eliminate the unpredictable element that is me.' He couldn't afford to let that happen. Eron set his course of action and formulated a plan. 'Drain the adventurers' strength, then use my full power of enchantment on Risir.' He didn't like it. Using his enchanting power at full strength on such a lowly man. But— "..." "..." If it meant knocking down that sly girl's arrogance, he was willing to endure it. 'Go ahead and enjoy your momentary ease...' Eron consoled himself by imagining Fienne's expression when she witnessed her charge being taken from her while she stood helpless. *** As night fell, the carriage stopped near the road to prepare for camping. For adventurers, it was the most crucial moment. The quality of rest was the key factor influencing their condition the next day. "You three should rest. We'll handle these tasks ourselves." Despite this, Marik's group left Risir, Fienne, and Eron out of the task delegation process. In such cases, it was customary to distribute tasks fairly among everyone, but that norm only applied among those of equal status. Fienne and Eron understood this, and thus accepted Marik's group's suggestion without complaint. "Damn it—why won't this fire catch?" "Ha... Just how hard is this ground? Maybe we should skip putting up the tents?" "Aren't you curious how our esteemed guests would fare if they tried? Let's just hope we never run into them in Bondaless again." Sweating and swearing, Marik's group dealt with the menial work. "Is there anything else I could help with?" Risir approached them and asked. "...?" "...?" "...?" Marik's group all wore expressions as if they'd seen a ghost. Did I just hear what I think I heard? The words themselves were nothing unusual. But the tone. An expression of willingness to help spoken in a noble's accent? Marik's group, having scraped their way through various hardships as low-rank adventurers, found this one of the rarest phenomena they'd ever encountered. "Excuse me, did we hear you correctly?" Marik asked, at a loss. "I thought it might be quicker if I helped." Good heavens. They hadn't misheard. "No, no—there's really no need. These are tasks we should handle. Yes. Lord Risir—uh, sir, please take it easy and relax." Marik inwardly chuckled bitterly. Should this be labeled as kindness, familiarity, or sheer ignorance of worldly matters? Risir. Apparently, this young, courteous noble was unaware of how such excessive kindness, in this context, felt to those beneath him. It would be a lie to say that he was not flattered, but more significantly, he felt uncomfortable and burdened. Despite being fellow passengers, what adventurer would feel pleased about having a noble assist them with menial tasks and happily exclaim, "Great! More hands on deck!" How is it right to relax while you all work so hard? Ah, but how could we possibly allow Lord Risir to handle these chores? No, please— No, please— Marik envisioned the likely course of the impending conversation. Just as his expression started to grow wearier than when tackling the tasks— "The truth is, I'd like to learn for the sake of younger generations." "...Pardon?" Could there be a more mysterious sight than a noble eager to assist with adventurers' tasks? Here he was. This noble wished to hope to learn menial tasks from adventurers. In such an unusual development, Marik and his companions could only blink and stare at Risir. "It's not just idle curiosity. I'm quite interested in the adventuring life. And even if I'm not an adventurer, wouldn't such practical knowledge come in handy someday?" His words were not mere formalities. Risir's interest focused solely on one thing. To succeed and live well in this fantasy world. The magic he was engrossed in was just one means to that end. The more means, the better. Ever since he gained consciousness of his past life, absorbing every bit of knowledge he could from the library, Risir's approach hadn't changed drastically even now. "…" Marik and his group knew how to interpret the kindness of nobles. Do not be mistaken. They didn't bestow kindness due to a special favor. They literally gave. As those in a higher position, to those below them. It was a sort of duty, or tradition perhaps. Therefore, their kindness should not be taken at face value, nor should one grow too familiar. It was a mistake that no one, except for the exceptionally naïve, would commit. Nobles, even when offering courtesy, had a formal air, making it obvious at a glance. It was why Marik's group now felt lost and bewildered. Understandably so, since nobles never used the expression 'learn' from those below them, not even out of formality. "Useful knowledge, you say... what do you mean?" "Well, things like how to start a fire. Points to consider during camping. There are many useful skills, aren't there?" "While they may seem trivial, they are indeed useful knowledge." The words were casual. Inwardly, Marik was nodding. 'This fellow knows quite a bit, doesn't he?' The current campsite. An outsider might think they just stopped anywhere they could as time allowed, but in truth, Marik's group had spent a long time with eyes peeled, scouring before finally finding this optimal spot. As Risir mentioned, they chose the campsite considering various factors essential for camping. Knowledge of camping was crucial for adventurers as it directly impacted their lives. It was invaluable expertise, often acquired through firsthand experience in the field. When Marik referred to such know-how as trivial, it wasn't because he was naive enough to believe a noble would share the same sentiment. But then again– This noble was proving to be quite the exception. "Trivial, you say? Where can you find useful knowledge that is trivial?" Marik knew it was a mere formality. It was a line nobles used to flatter their subordinates. "...Ahem. If you'd please follow me for a moment? There was a specific moment when we decided to camp here - if I might show you—" Yet he couldn't resist. There wasn't a subordinate anywhere who wouldn't be eager to chat with a noble who showed genuine respect and interest in their work. Marik and his companions eagerly shared their camping insights with Risir. Including the sort of personal know-hows they wouldn't typically share for any amount of money. "I too would like to learn, if possible. The, uh, camping knowledge." Eron, who had been observing for a chance to use his captivating power on the adventurers, was momentarily displeased before finally joining in. "Oh, why not? Come on over, Eron!" Caught in the excitement, Marik's group gestured for Eron to join without hesitation— "...Eron? If you're not interested, you don’t have to force yourself." But soon enough, they couldn't hide their discomfort, plainly wishing he'd leave them be. His repeated attempts to engage warmly with Marik and his partner, Catherine, sharply contrasted with Risir’s genuine interest and attentive demeanor, which only solidified their aversion to him further. "..." The succubus who charmed people into submission with their looks and aura was left writhing in surprise and humiliation. *** "I'll take the watch." Night deepened, and their meal concluded. As the topic of keeping watch arose around the campfire, Risir volunteered without hesitation. "Oh, please!!! Don’t do this, Risir!!!" Practically a shout erupted from among the Marik group, who were sitting near Risir. Since Risir’s camping lesson, Marik's group grew increasingly fond of him, to the point they found him highly entertaining and refused to leave his side. "Do you have any idea how dreadful it is, staying up late into the night, staring blankly into the fields? Keeping watch isn’t just tough; it's downright miserable! Boredom and sleepiness can make you feel like death itself." "Still, wouldn’t it be better to experience it once? Better to make mistakes now than when you're being paid for it later." "AHHH!!!" The noise that came out was more of a wail than laughter. Marik clasped Risir by the body and convulsed with laughter. "You’re absolutely right!!! Absolutely right—but, how do I even explain this!? Ah, I give up! Just go ahead, Risir!" Risir eventually took over the watch duty, despite the protests from Marik's group. "I'll take the next shift!" Eron, who had been observing cautiously, raised his hand abruptly, then glanced at Marik's group. "Ah. Sure. Will you? Well, we’d appreciate it." Unlike with Risir, their response was tepid at best. "..." Snap. More beautiful than most women. The fine-looking succubus, who mesmerized numerous men and women with such beauty, now had a vein throbbing in their brow. 'Pathetic fools. Just wait.' Finally, night arrived. The succubus had eagerly anticipated this very moment. *** "Damn it. Was I being too enthusiastic? Volunteering needlessly." Once the watch began, and from Risir’s perspective, 3,000 hours seemed to have passed. He gazed into the endless darkness spread across the fields, contemplating past mistakes. The dawn's air made one pensive. His mind drifted to his younger sister, who wasn’t present. When they parted ways, she expressed a mix of rivalry and determination toward Risir. —The next time we meet, you might want to call me 'sister.' —...So until then, take care of yourself... stay healthy... —Brother... Seeing his magical talent lit a fire in the pride of the genius swordswoman. —I had planned to teach you swordsmanship... —I had intended to say you needn’t worry about a thing and just follow my lead... There was anger over broken plans. And regret. —How dare I... —Telling you to live your own life... —So... —Though I don’t want to part ways either... —I think it’s necessary now... —I’ll miss you. Thinking of his adorable sister, Risir rubbed his chest. —When will you always cling on like this! His sister, clinging magically until the end to ensure no regrets lingered, had shown resistance to letting go with a burst of childish defiance. A dazzling one-inch punch delivered with her flushed face. "It still hurts..." A vivid reminder of his sister’s touch (and the bruise) remained on Risir’s chest. "Hmm?" As Risir mused over various thoughts to push through the monotonous night, he suddenly turned his head back. Someone was nearby. "How are you?" A voice both unfamiliar yet familiar reached out to him. "Eron?" As they drew closer, the darkness lifted, revealing a silhouette. "...?" Risir tilted his head in confusion. "Eron...?" Long lashes. Delicate, refined features. Clear, sky-blue eyes like the summer sky. Smooth tanned skin and a striking short golden bob. He remembered Eron as a beauty more stunning than most women. That’s why he wasn’t too shocked by the current situation. Emerging from the shadows, Eron stood there, completely bare. The contours of the body undeniably belonged to a woman. Her flawless bronze skin absorbed and reflected the moonlight, truly radiating beauty that shone even within the depths of darkness. "Shall we do something nice?" Eron's lips curled into a gentle smile as the shadows behind her swayed like a tail. Her power responded to her intent. ────────── [The influence of the subject is too strong] [Attributes permanently decrease] ────────── ────────── ■Eron Level: 18 > 16 ──────────