Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 52

"A succubus. A succu. Bus."

These creatures had "demon" baked right into their very name.

Even criminals weren’t as far removed from the image of a priest as a succubus was.

And now, this former succubus was pretending to be a priest?

"Sure, fine. Former succubus… and now an ordinary human…"

A former succubus turned priest?

"...Hah."

Pien let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the train of thought. Thinking about it too much made her feel foolish.

More importantly, Risir's condition visibly improved.

His labored breathing, punctuated by coughing fits, began to stabilize.

"Hoo… hoo…"

Eventually, with Pien’s help, Risir managed to sit up.

"Thank you, Pien. And Lona, thank you too. I owe you my life."

The person most bewildered by this succubus-turned-healer spectacle wasn’t anyone else—it was Lona herself.

She stared blankly at her hands, only to snap out of it at Risir’s words of gratitude.

"I… I got praised…?"

Lona’s expression twitched uncontrollably, as though she didn’t know how to handle her emotions.

A lowly slave proving she’s not just some ordinary girl?

With that expression? It’s more feminine than mine.

Pien swallowed the words that threatened to spill out and addressed Risir.

"Risir, are you alright?"

"Better than I was. But I’m stunned. Who would’ve thought a succubus’s powers could be used like this? Maybe succubi aren’t so bad after all. Like, beneficial insects—beneficial demons?"

Pien nodded seriously, as though considering his words.

"The nonsense you’re spouting suggests you really are feeling better."

"Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh to say to a recovering patient?"

"If you’re a patient, then at least act like one. Either be quiet or say something that makes sense. Are you seriously trying to argue succubi have healing powers?"

"Then what do you think it is?"

"What else? It’s probably your fault again."

"Isn’t that a bit too quick to dismiss? You think the world bends to your beauty that easily?"

"Ugh. I almost wish you’d just keep coughing."

At that moment, Lona timidly mumbled,

"I… I think so too. It’s probably because of you, Risir."

"Oh? Do you know why?"

"Um… I just wanted to help you, and… this happened."

No.

That wasn’t the kind of explanation they were looking for.

Risir and Pien held back the retorts on the tips of their tongues.

They couldn’t bring themselves to criticize Lona as she spoke with her head bowed, nervously fidgeting with her hands, her demeanor almost heartbreakingly delicate.

How is she so feminine?

Even the progenitor within Pien’s consciousness silently marveled, analyzing Lona’s behavior for the sake of future disciples.

Meanwhile, Risir flexed his arms experimentally, conducting a final check of his condition by attempting to summon mana.

"...!"

But just before he could do so, Risir instinctively froze.

This isn’t going to work.

His mana circuits, deeply embedded throughout his body, were intact. That wasn’t the issue.

The problem was his body itself.

Risir noticed his hand trembling like a leaf in the wind.

My body… it’s afraid of responding to the mana.

Though he bore no visible injuries, his body had clearly endured severe trauma or strain.

He shared his observations with Pien and Lona, asking for their input.

"Strain… overload…"

After a moment of thought, Pien spoke up.

"Now that I think about it, I might have experienced something similar once."

"Something similar?"

"Yes. It was about a year after I first awakened the Progenitor’s power and began wielding mana. At the time, I was aiming for the fifth rank."

"You reached the fourth rank in just a year?"

Lona looked shocked.

"Seriously? You’re still surprised by things like this with him as your master?"

"Ah."

Lona seemed to accept it after a moment.

"Anyway, as I was approaching the fifth rank, I began to feel an odd discomfort when using mana. I realized something was wrong with my body. Eventually, I discovered the problem: my body couldn’t keep up with the rapid growth of my mana. That caused the symptoms."

"So what did you do about it?"

"I waited. I minimized my use of mana until my body could adapt to the changes."

"So, I just have to wait, and I’ll get better?"

"Hard to say. My case and yours are similar but also different. My mana growth wasn’t nearly as explosive as yours, and my symptoms weren’t as severe."

Pien pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and began wiping the blood from Risir’s face.

"You should consult a professional and get a proper diagnosis. Do you think those new friends of yours at the Magic Tower could help?"

"Now that you mention it…"

"What? Did you think of something useful?"

"Pien, don’t you seem kind of… motherly right now? Oof!"

Pien threw the handkerchief at Risir’s face.

"Gross! Do you want to get hit? Just because you’re sick doesn’t mean I won’t do it. No, maybe I should just hit you anyway. You can’t use mana right now, can you?"

"No, it just felt… familiar. Or maybe like… a wife?"

"Wife?! Seriously, stop saying disgusting things! Ugh! Ugh!"

Despite her protests, Pien picked the handkerchief back up and resumed wiping Risir’s face, more carefully than before.

"Wife, he says… ridiculous. Absolutely absurd."

Her laughter and scoffs blended seamlessly, almost as if she were smiling out of sheer amusement.

"Anyway, what about your Magic Tower friends? Can they help?"

"They’re kind people. I think it’s worth asking."

"Then we shouldn’t delay. Let’s go."

"Go? You’re coming too?"

"What, am I not allowed to? Didn’t you just call me your wife earlier?"

"No, it’s not that… I just don’t want to inconvenience you. It’s the weekend—you should be resting."

"Of course it’s an inconvenience! A huge one! Do you know how busy I’ve been all week? I’d love to rest! But you’re a selfish man who doesn’t care about my needs, so you’ll drag me to the Magic Tower anyway."

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"She… she’s onto me…?"

"Still, I understand. When people are sick, they want to be with those they admire most."

"So embarrassing…"

"And let’s not forget: you probably want to show off that you’re friends with someone as amazing as me."

"Feeling… proud…"

"So, just this once, I’ll indulge you. You can thank me now."

"Th-thank you…?"

Because I’m worried about you.

Too shy to say it aloud, the Progenitor used her mental interference ability to prompt Risir’s responses.

"Hey."

Lona, who had been waiting for a chance to speak, timidly interjected.

"Can I come too?"

"Am I such a selfish man to you as well, ignoring others’ needs?"

"What are you even talking about? I just… well…"

Lona avoided their eyes, finishing her sentence in a barely audible voice.

"I’m worried about you…"

And here I thought she was supposed to be proving she wasn’t just an ordinary girl—or a slave, for that matter.

Pien cast Lona a knowing glance, her eyes calm. Risir also turned to look at her.

"W-what! Why are you staring at me!"

Lona hurriedly marched ahead as if fleeing the conversation.

Risir and Pien followed her, heading toward the Magic District of Bondalles where the Magic Tower stood.

***

"Are you sure this is okay?"

Just before arriving at the Magic Tower, Pien voiced her concerns.

"The Magic Tower is as insular and conservative as any group could be."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, will those snobs who care so much about lineage and status really give you the help you need?"

"Ah."

Risir nodded, immediately understanding her point.

Although Risir had earned recognition for unmasking the dark mage hiding within the tower, many of the Tower’s mages didn’t look favorably upon him.

As Pien had said, most Magic Tower mages were the type to cling tightly to their prejudices.

According to Meltas, they didn’t like that an outsider with no family name had resolved such a critical issue within their walls. Some even expressed dissatisfaction, claiming it had damaged their prestige.

Fortunately, Risir had made connections with a few of the Masters. Without that, Meltas suggested, not only would Risir have been treated poorly, but he might have faced outright hostility.

"As you know, Pien, I’m pretty lucky when it comes to people. The ones I’m going to see are more lenient in that regard, so we shouldn’t have any problems."

Not long after, they arrived at the Magic Tower’s main gate.

Risir approached the guard standing watch and spoke.

"May I see your access permit?"

"I’m here to visit Master Meltas and Master Didoa."

"Your name, please?"

"Risir."

The moment the guard heard his name, his expression hardened.

This guard happened to be among those who disliked Risir’s presence at the Tower.

"Do you have a prior appointment?"

Had Risir answered honestly with a "no," the guard would have invoked protocol to turn him away, disregarding the unspoken flexibility often granted to acquaintances of Tower members.

"Yes. Both Masters mentioned I could stop by whenever they were available today."

Fortunately, Didoa and Meltas had anticipated such a scenario and instructed Risir to freely use their names if necessary.

At the mention of the two Masters, the guard begrudgingly stepped aside and allowed them through.

Pien chuckled softly at the scene.

"Risir, that was impressive."

How many illegitimate nobodies could walk freely into the Magic Tower?

Having been ready to use the Progenitor’s powers to assist him if needed, Pien now found herself genuinely impressed.

She fell into step behind Risir, her steps light and confident.

"How about you, Lona?"

Unlike Pien, however, Lona hesitated, making no move to follow.

Under the two pairs of eyes now focused on her, she fidgeted and finally spoke.

"Now that I think about it… maybe I should just wait out here."

"There’s no need to worry."

"It’s not that, it’s just… you know…"

Lona glanced nervously at her surroundings, then stepped closer to the two and whispered so only they could hear:

"What if someone finds out I used to be a succubus?"

"Here, of all places?"

"...Sorry."

"Don’t apologize. I’m not trying to scold you."

"Pien, are you okay with this?"

"Do I look that naive to you?"

"Right… I guess not. You’re an expert at taking down entire families, after all."

"Could you phrase that more kindly? Never mind. Anyway, unless you use your powers, there’s no way anyone will find out."

"Then doesn’t that mean Lona should be fine, too?"

"Exactly. Lona doesn’t have even a trace of her succubus powers left anymore."

"What do you say, Lona?"

"Honestly, I’m fine, but… what if something goes wrong and I end up causing trouble for you two?"

Seeing her genuine concern, Risir nodded.

Dragging her along against her will wouldn’t feel right.

Leaving Lona behind, Risir and Pien stepped into the Magic Tower.

***

Meltas promptly informed Didoa’s lab of Risir’s visit.

Moments later, a wolf came dashing toward Risir at full speed.

"Risir!"

The wolf transformed into a human shape, shedding her clothes in the process without a second thought to modesty.

Thus, Pien found herself staring coldly at Risir, who was now being embraced by a naked woman.

"Just to be clear, I didn’t do anything."

"Yes, I can see that. You’re doing absolutely nothing to stop her. You must be thrilled to reunite with her."

"Risir, Risir! Me! Butt! The thing! Do it!"

Still clinging to Risir, Perrin wiggled her hips enthusiastically.

Pien, utterly horrified by the absurd display, turned her sharp gaze to Risir.

The thing?

What thing?!

Perrin, meanwhile, glared at Pien as though she were an unwelcome intruder.

"Who are you?"

"Me? I’m—"

In this situation, would it be too much to say, I’m Risir’s friend, and still feel any pride?

Pien hesitated before replying.

"I suppose you could say I’m someone Risir thinks of as a wife."

"Risir! You’ve been hiding such a lovely wife from me!?"

"Don’t fall for her word traps, Meltas."

"Word traps? Risir, how could you say that? Someone might think I’m making things up."

"It’s not that you’re making things up, but your phrasing is definitely… malicious."

"Haha, fittingly clever for someone close to Risir. But Perrin, where’s Master Didoa? Why are you here alone?"

"He’s out right now."

"That’s unfortunate. Oh well. Back to the matter at hand—"

After hearing Risir’s explanation, Meltas quickly arrived at a conclusion.

"Overload. That’s what you’re experiencing."

"Overload?"

"Yes. At the fifth rank, mana’s effects on the body increase exponentially. Those who reach the fifth rank suddenly and unprepared often fall into a state of overload, just like you."

"That’s a thing? Why didn’t you warn me in advance?"

"Because I didn’t know!"

Meltas exclaimed, sounding genuinely exasperated.

"I didn’t think you’d hit the fifth rank in the single week I didn’t see you!"

"...My apologies."

His expression was a mix of indignation and disbelief. Without meaning to, Risir found himself apologizing.

"Hoo… No, it’s fine. I got carried away. You’re right—I underestimated you. I should’ve been more prepared for you."

"You’re making me sound like a natural disaster."

"What else could you be to us mages? Let me warn you: don’t go around boasting about your rapid advancement. If other mages find out you reached the fifth rank this quickly, half of them will hang themselves, and the other half will curse your existence."

"Oh, it’s not that bad."

"It is that bad."

"It’s definitely that bad."

"It’s that bad."

The old man, the progenitor, and the wolf-girl all united to agree in unison.

"…I’ll be more careful. But seriously, is overload something all fifth-rank mages go through?"

"For most, yes. However—"

Meltas examined Risir’s condition closely before shaking his head.

"Cases as severe as yours, where someone’s life is at risk, are extraordinarily rare. No, in fact, they’re practically nonexistent. Even someone who chugs elixirs like water wouldn’t experience overload as extreme as yours. Do you realize how wrecked your body is right now? If that ‘priest’ hadn’t helped you, you might have fallen into a coma—or worse, ended up crippled."

"Wait… did I say it was a priest?"

"Your body is essentially riddled with cracks, on the verge of shattering entirely. The only person capable of handling such damage would be a high-ranking priest."

"A high-ranking priest…"

That would be someone capable of holding an advisory position representing the church in a mid-sized city.

Risir and Pien both pictured a former succubus standing in for the city’s clergy and couldn’t suppress their laughter.

"Honestly, even I’m surprised. I never expected you to have connections to someone from the church!"

"Neither did I. Truly shocking."

"Why are you the one surprised? Anyway, did you ask how to fix this overload issue? First and foremost, your damaged body needs to heal."

"So… can I just keep relying on that—pffft—priest friend?"

"If it’s possible, that would be ideal. But are you sure about that? Healing you completely will take a significant amount of time. A high-ranking priest is bound to be incredibly busy. They can’t just stick around to tend to you indefinitely."

"I’m sure I can convince them."

Meltas sighed deeply, stroking his long, braided beard.

"Getting a high-ranking priest as your personal physician? Risir, who are you? And who exactly is this priest friend of yours?"

A bastard, and the friend is a succubus.

Risir and Pien struggled to keep straight faces throughout the rest of the conversation.

***

At the same time, Lona was lingering near the Magic Tower, trying to pass the time.

It was unbearably dull—at least until someone approached her and spoke.

"Miss?"

The man had short blond hair that gleamed like ripe barley in autumn, tanned skin reminiscent of shadows at sunset, and bright blue eyes as clear as the autumn sky.

For Lona, whose androgynous beauty often drew attention, being approached by strangers was far from unusual.

Back when she worked at a café, she faced advances from customers multiple times a day and repelled them with her signature sharp, rebellious glare.

She attempted to do the same now, meeting this newcomer with her usual defiant gaze.

"...!"

However, before she could fully deploy her intimidating glare, she found herself overwhelmed instead.

The newcomers weren’t ordinary people. A middle-aged woman with rare black hair and a young man stood before her, both clad in robes of pure white adorned with intricate holy symbols.

Lona knew exactly what those robes represented.

────────────

Name: Bardros

Level: 60

Race: Human

Class: Priest

────────────

────────────

Name: Takla

Level: 45

Race: Human

Class: Paladin

────────────

They were clergy of the church.

For Lona, a former succubus, such individuals were the stuff of nightmares.

If they discovered her true nature, they wouldn’t hesitate to perform a purification ritual on the spot.

In this context, "purification" meant prolonging her exposure to sacred flames, merging the agony of fire with healing magic to ensure her suffering lasted as long as possible.

Thud. Thud! Thud!!!

Lona’s heart pounded violently in terror.

The middle-aged woman smiled knowingly, as if she could hear every anxious beat.

"Did I frighten you?"

Her jet-black eyes, impossible to read, only deepened Lona’s unease.

"How strange. Our church’s emblem usually puts people at ease, yet you seem to have the opposite reaction. Do you have some reason to fear the church?"

"...What do you want with me?"

Lona managed to respond, though the trembling in her voice and the shaking of her eyes were impossible to hide.

"Your 'essence' caught my attention."

Thump!

"E-essence?"

"Yes, your essence. You’re a fascinating individual."

Thump!

"What’s your name?"

"...Lona."

The woman repeated the name, rolling it around in her mouth as if savoring it.

"Lona."

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Lona, now feeling like a condemned prisoner awaiting judgment, anxiously waited for the woman’s next words.

"Lona, have you ever considered joining the church?"

"...?"

"It’s a sudden question, I know. Please understand—your pure vessel has completely captivated me. You were born with the qualities of a sacred flame, destined to illuminate this chaotic world and guide the lost."

Lona was utterly baffled.

Was that some roundabout way of saying, "You’d burn beautifully in a fire"?

Probably not.

The church didn’t bother with deceptions when dealing with heretical beings. They simply burned them.

Lona realized with certainty: they didn’t know her true identity.

"Perhaps I was too forward. Or… do you already serve another?"

"Serve another…?"

The words made Lona reflexively think of a certain man.

The woman seemed to interpret her silence as understanding and nodded knowingly.

"I see. Your vessel reflects faith already realized. You must be a shepherd of an unknown god."

"..."

Faith?

Shepherd of an unknown god?

We’re just a master and a slave!

"Once faith has been realized, it’s not our place to lead you astray. I understand. May you find salvation and peace, no matter whom you serve or which path you walk."

Lona stared after the retreating woman, her expression unconsciously slipping into one of disbelief.

"Bardros, High Priest."

The young black-haired paladin, Takla, addressed the priest carefully.

"Speak."

"Shouldn’t we have guided that woman?"

"She is not one to be guided."

"But isn’t she a heretic?"

"Not all who stray from the sacred flame are lost. Did you see her vessel?"

"...I did."

"Could such a vessel be molded by false faith?"

The paladin hesitated, unable to answer.

The High Priest spoke with conviction.

"Surely, she walks a noble path beyond even our comprehension."

Her eyes filled with reverence as she imagined the journey that woman must have walked and the god she must serve.

As they approached the Magic Tower, their final destination for this mission, the High Priest’s gaze hardened.

The sacred flame had spoken—within this tower, a heretic’s apostle hid among the unholy parasites.