Dark Fantasy Normalized
Chapter 106: The Saint’s Man (1)

[Title: So They Said Hitting Level 60 Turns You Into a Whole New Character, Right? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ]

Content:

Feels just the same as always? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Why does my character smell like Dangjangkkung soup my mom used to make? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

So when exactly do I become this “whole new character,” huh? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Fucking hell, when do I stop trudging and flailing around like this? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

-: Still, a Level 60 Swordsman trudges and flails in style, y’know.

-: Level 10 Skill: Trudge 'n Flail

Level 20: Trudge Fast & Flail Fast

Level 30: Trudge Hard & Flail Hard

Level 40: Batshit Trudging, Batshit Flailing

Level 50: Fucking Trudge & Fucking Flail™

-[OP]: FFS

-: Just be proud you’re at least developing.

-: For real; fucking Trudge & Flail squared? I can’t even begin to imagine how fucked that is.

-: Almost like John Trudge Jones, fr.

-: I gave up at Level 30 when I realized I was still doing the Trudge & Flail.

Meanwhile, Mages at 30 are throwing fire, water, chaos spells and just AoE-farming like it’s a whole different genre.

-: Fuck, no wonder you gotta be Level 30 to get into the Mage Tower.

-: You don’t even have the IQ to be Trudging & Flailing tbh.

-[OP]: But FFS everyone said your first run should be as a Swordsman!

-: Yeah, so you realize how fucking cursed the game is and GTFO early.

-[OP]: You guys just wanna fight me, don’t you?

-: Look, fact is, Swordsman is way easier to play.

-: If you’re a Mage, you gotta tweak stats every level, farm tomes, and do all sorts of crazy bullshit.

But a Swordsman? You just level up and boom—“Ohhh?”—your Trudge & Flail gets stronger. You just auto-scale.

-: That’s real though. You hardly hit any walls with that class.

-[OP]: I hit every wall, bro???

-: That’s just 'cause the game itself is fucking cursed.

-[OP]: Ah.

-[OP]: No but seriously, what’s this whole thing about becoming a different character at Level 60?

-[OP]: It’s literally just another Trudge & Flail tier like at Level 50?

-: Don’t you unlock BLACK STRONG at 60?

-: B. S. lmao.

-: Nah fr, once you hit Level 60 you unlock “Sword Qi.”

And bro, that shit deals insane damage.

-: That’s why all those magic nerds who used to shit on Swordsmen start calling you “Swordmaster-nim” real fast once you get it.

-[OP]: Wait, what?

-[OP]: Isn’t Swordmaster only from Level 70?

-: Technically, you can learn it at 60.

But it’s so fucking hard that most people don’t until 70.

-[OP]: Then you should’ve told me it’s basically a Level 70 skill, fuck.

I sprinted to 60 thinking I’d finally evolve.

-: People who grind to Level 60 as Swordsmen weren’t gonna escape anyway, let’s be real.

It’s all just to give you hope.

-: Hence, the “Black Lie.”

-: Don’t you mean a White Lie?

-: It’s a Swordsman.

-: lmao I'm cryin this is too good

-[OP]: ...Ah.

***

Lisir was dreaming.

In that dream, the mischievous Berbandes...ssu! was on a tiny sand dune, testing how long she could hold her breath.

“Jjuuuiiiinniiiii~~~~~”

...Though, maybe it wasn’t a dream.

When Lisir opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Berbandes perched on his chest, drawing out his name like a song.

As soon as she saw his eyes open, she smiled wide and brought her face close.

“Jjuinni! You’re not dead!”

“That was a funeral song just now?”

“You were sooo not waking up, so I called you sooo much!”

“Damn, thanks for all the effort. You really woke me up soooo hard.”

“Jjuinni! Does your body hurt?!”

“Of course—”

—or so he started to say, when he finally became aware of the state of his body. Agony shot through him and his face twisted in pain.

“Jjuinni! You’re in pain!”

“Yeah, seems like it.”

“Don’t hurt!!! Hurting sucks!!!”

She spoke with her brows sharply furrowed.

...Wait, is she scolding me, not worried?

Feeling oddly humbled, Lisir straightened up and said:

“I will not be hurt. I will not struggle.”

“You better not!!!”

“Yoginyogin...”

And with that, Lisir finished his brief yogin session and began to retrace his memories.

Did I pass out again? Am I some kind of damn sunfish? Every time I overload... wait, no. This time it wasn’t even from overload—ah. That’s right!

Lisir’s eyes snapped open.

He recalled what had happened just before he lost consciousness.

I landed a hit on Gaderok...

Thump!

The memory surged up. His heart pounded. A rush of elation swallowed him whole.

Like a man possessed, he shot up in bed and reached for his sword.

“Stop right there.”

But Clarna’s voice halted him.

Lisir stared straight ahead, startled.

Because the voice hadn’t come from inside his head—it had come from outside.

There, where his gaze landed, stood the Murder Fiend, arms crossed, looking regal as ever.

...What’s with the tiny cuteness?

That was Lisir’s first impression upon seeing the real Clarna.

Gone was the imposing Murder Fiend he’d seen in his inner world.

The figure before him was that of a little girl—just like Berbandes...ssu!

“In person, you look way younger than expected.”

“And look at you, spewing nonsense in that busted-up body. What a damn freak.”

“So, uh... what’s with the appearance?”

“I learned how to manifest as a spirit.”

“You can just learn to do that?”

Lisir looked a bit flustered at how casually Clarna was brushing off something so insane.

And Clarna, for her part, looked at him like he was the insane one.

“You’re really one to talk.”

“...Excuse me?”

Clarna, despite her small frame, radiated her usual untamed energy as she approached and perched on the bed.

Then, cocking her head and narrowing her eyes, she asked:

“You. Do you even know what kind of power you used?”

Lisir sensed it instantly.

She wasn’t talking about the technique called Breath Snatch.

She meant the decisive force—the thing that turned a mere sleight of hand into a lethal strike.

Lisir thought back to the sword he had drawn.

The blade that had cut through the mana barrier of a 7th Tier mage. The force that had clung to that edge.

It was a power unlike any spell or sword technique Lisir had ever seen before.

In response to Clarna’s question, Lisir confidently shook his head.

“Of course I don’t know.”

“Ah.”

Clarna let out a sigh. But only briefly. She nodded in resignation.

“Well, it is you. So I guess that tracks.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Isn’t that a bit of a leap in logic?”

“Shut it. You’re the last person I want to hear that from.”

“Wow... So? What exactly was that power I used?”

“It’s called Sword Qi.”

“Sword Qi?”

“It’s the manifestation of one’s ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) will to cut.”

“Can you explain that in simpler terms? I’m not really a sword guy.”

“You seriously have the gall to say that after using Sword Qi?”

Clarna sighed deeply before continuing.

“To put it simply, you gained the ability to wield your will as a weapon.”

“Ah, like a fundamental magic? There's something like that in the basic curriculum for magic called ‘Formalization.’ This sounds similar.”

Clarna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If she didn’t, she felt like she’d fall into mana reflux.

“To put it even simpler: that power is one you can only truly handle after reaching the realm of the 8th Tier.”

“How the hell did I use something like that?”

“Because you’re Lisir.”

“This is a sword-related conversation. Shouldn’t we be taking this a bit more seriously?”

“For the love of—shut up already.”

Clarna fled the bedside and made her way to the nearby nightstand. She pointed to the blue lotus blade leaning against it.

“Anyway, here’s what you need to remember. Sword Qi is way too much for you to handle at your current level. The fact that you used it has left your body in shambles. If you try to use it again, your body might end up damaged beyond repair.”

“Ah. I understand. Thank you for worrying about me.”

“I was just suffocating from frustration.”

“Didn’t expect someone like you to get embarrassed.”

“You really just say whatever comes to mind, don’t you.”

Clarna looked at the blue lotus and sighed.

“How did someone like this end up...”

Then she turned back to Lisir with a resigned expression and said,

“I acknowledge you.”

“...Pardon?”

“The Breath Snatch you executed—that was unmistakably my sword.”

Clarna picked up the blue lotus and handed it to Lisir.

“I give you permission to call me your master.”

“...!”

Lisir’s eyes widened in delight at her acknowledgment.

“Thank you, Clarna!”

Clarna muttered bitterly to herself.

Can’t believe I’ve ended up playing master now...

With a sour yet slightly excited tone, she added,

“Do you just throw your master’s name around like that?”

“Ah, well—Clarna, just so you know, I already have a master. I’ve always considered him to be my only true master.”

“...?”

Clarna blinked slowly.

Then what am I?

It felt like she was saying that without actually saying it.

Lisir, after a moment of reflection, suddenly lit up with an idea.

“How about... a respected peer with whom I share discourse on the sword?”

“...”

Clarna unsheathed the blue lotus and slashed her own neck.

Of course, in her spirit form, it didn’t actually harm her.

The beheaded Clarna immediately vanished back into Lisir’s inner world.

‘Clarna, are you okay?’

-Don’t talk to me.

The Murder Fiend... is sulking.

***

I wonder what happened after I collapsed? Did the city council stuff with Ran get resolved properly?

Finishing his conversation with Clarna, Lisir immediately sat up in bed. He planned to head to Ran’s office and talk things through.

“Huh?”

That was when it hit him.

A vague sense of discomfort he hadn’t noticed while chatting with the two spirit-like figures.

This... doesn’t feel like my room.

Lisir looked around.

It was just as spacious and luxurious as the guest room Ran had provided—maybe even more so. But it was clearly a different room.

“Jjuuuiiinniii! You’re awake! Kyaaahhh!!! I’ve never been so happy!!! The pinnacle of relief!!!”

Someone spoke to him in his confusion.

A fist-sized, ash-white flame hovered in the air.

“Dangaléon?”

“That’s me! I, the faithful servant of Jjuinny, the Blazing White Flame Dangaléon, greet you!”

...Did his name change?

Also, is he in some kind of spirit mode too?

Is my inner world some kind of rest stop for spirits now?

Pushing those trivial thoughts aside, Lisir asked:

“Where did you go?”

“I’ve been scouting the estate!”

“Estate? Do you know where we are?”

“Of course!!! Put your worries aside! I, Dangaléon the Blazing White Flame, will dispel all of Jjuinny’s doubts! Everything that happened while you were asleep!”

Three days.

That was how long Lisir had been unconscious.

“During that time, those pests called the Saint and the Master barged into your quarters!”

“Ah. Actually, those two are my comrades. Very important ones.”

“I thought so!!! I had the distinct sense that those pests—no, those two—were extraordinary and distinguished individuals! They assisted in Jjuinny’s recovery!”

“I’ll have to properly thank them later. Where are they now?”

Pien.

While Lisir was unconscious, she’d handled things alongside Ran in his stead.

“Soon, you’ll hear some very good news from the council!”

“You even know that?”

“Yes! While you were asleep, I went around the entire mansion collecting information!”

“Right—so, where exactly are we?”

“This is the mansion of the head of the merchant guild known as ‘Golden Barley’!”

“Golden Barley?”

Lisir’s eyes widened at the name of the largest trading house in Bondalles.

“After Jjuinny collapsed, the Saint took full charge of your treatment! That’s why you were relocated to this mansion where she’s staying!”

“Ah, so that’s how it happened.”

“Her skills were most impressive! Without her care, it would’ve taken far longer for Jjuinny to awaken!”

For Dangaléon to praise a human this much...

Lisir was quietly impressed—and deeply curious.

How long has it been since I last saw her?

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he thought about reuniting with his comrade.

“Is she still in the mansion?”

“Yes! She’s in the garden, entertaining visitors!”

“Visitors?”

“She is truly Jjuinny’s comrade! Her renown is immense! So many followers have come to see her that the estate is bustling day and night!”

“Hooh.”

Seeing Lisir intrigued, Dangaléon exclaimed,

“Let us go to her right now! I shall guide you!”

Lisir followed Dangaléon out of the room.

***

Once they reached the garden, Lisir looked around and let out a low whistle.

This might be more impressive than the Governor’s mansion.

As expected from the head of a major merchant guild.

The garden before him was more luxurious than even the rotting governor’s had been.

Visitors flocked to the garden like it was a public square.

There wasn’t even an event going on, but people filled the space, chatting and mingling.

The Saint’s supposed to be here?

-She was definitely here just a moment ago!

Lisir walked the paths, scanning the clusters of guests.

Don’t see her...

No matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t spot her.

“Excuse me, you there.”

A group approached Lisir and addressed him.

Their gaze was wary.

Wandering the garden just after waking up, Lisir didn’t exactly match the atmosphere of this lavish estate.

“What brings you here?”

A young noblewoman with heavily painted lips questioned him with a sharp tone.

Lisir, unfazed, answered readily.

“Ah, I’m looking for someone—the Saint, specifically.”

The Saint.

As soon as the name left his mouth, their expressions shifted.

Though Lisir was unfamiliar with high society, he knew exactly what that look meant.

They were sizing him up.

And then... they smiled.

“This must be your first time here?”

“Ah, yes.”

“I see. Understandable, then.”

“Pardon?”

“The Saint... isn’t someone you can just show up and expect to meet, you know.”

She gestured subtly to a few people nearby.

“See them? Each one holds significant sway in Bondalles high society. Even they haven’t managed to secure an audience with her—they’ve been waiting here endlessly.”

She smiled again.

“I’m in the same boat. So if you do figure out how to meet her, please do let me know.”

Her companions snickered quietly.

-What wretched worms!!! Jjuinny! You must reveal your name at once! They’ll grovel before the glory of your reputation! Or grant me your command! I shall incinerate their eyeballs immediately!

Calm down. This is just how nobles play their little games.

The veiled malice unique to aristocrats.

Lisir had seen plenty of it in his time and was about to brush it off.

“Hmm?”

That was when their attention shifted elsewhere.

Lisir followed their gaze.

One part of the garden had grown noisy.

“No way...!”

The nobles exchanged glances, then rushed toward the commotion.

Lisir followed them.

A crowd had formed around something—or someone.

Lisir leaned in to get a look.

Huh? That’s—

The first face he recognized was that of the guard Rok from the back-alley meeting.

He adjusted his view—

And spotted a young woman with curly hair beside him.

And beside her—

Tanned skin, like sun-drenched bronze. Golden hair that gleamed like ripe barley.

A stunning androgynous beauty who exuded universal charm was being swarmed by women asking for handshakes.

Every man’s dream, and yet the person in question looked utterly bored.

Not that it mattered to the women—his aloofness only made them more enthusiastic.

Still the same, Golden Sun!

Lisir felt his own excitement swell—for a different reason.

“Hey!”

Without thinking, he raised his hand and called out.

“...!”

At the sound of that voice, the beauty’s expression completely changed.

Those sky-blue eyes scanned the crowd.

“...Ah!”

And then they locked onto Lisir.

“Saint...?”

The noblewomen surrounding her looked stunned.

The Saint—who had bewitched their hearts with their stunning looks and mysterious charm—was a woman?