Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 57

"Yes. Why? Did something important happen? If so, you should tell me now. It might not be too late."

"No, not that either. But... if I was unconscious for two weeks, that means I didn’t eat or drink anything during that time. How am I even alive?"

Pien covered her face with both hands, though given her petite frame, one would’ve sufficed.

"Am I an idiot? I know it’s pointless to worry, and yet I keep—"

"Love is stronger than hate, they say."

Pien glanced at me with an exasperated look, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Fine, go ahead. Let it all out. You’ve had two weeks to bottle it up; it must be unbearable."

"Pien, anyone hearing you would think I’m expelling some kind of toxic waste."

"They’d be absolutely right."

Pien stared wistfully into the past.

"I’ll never forget it. Those dreamlike days when you kept your mouth shut."

"Such emotional depth... Fine. For your sake, I’ll try to fall into a coma more often."

"Really? Oh no, what joy. However will I contain myself?"

She turned and walked toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"That’s actually a good idea, but I have something else to take care of first."

"And that is?"

Pien didn’t answer as she left the room. Moments later, she returned carrying a tray with a bowl of porridge and a cup of water.

I covered my mouth with both hands, a universal gesture of overwhelming emotion.

But judging by the look of disgust on Pien’s face, my feelings didn’t quite translate.

"Don’t get any ideas," she said flatly.

"Oh, so you brought it for yourself, then?"

"...Honestly, I think I preferred your misunderstanding."

Pien set the tray on a desk in the corner of the room, then grunted as she dragged the desk closer to my bed.

Once the impromptu dining setup was complete, she sat down on a chair by the bed and spoke.

"Alright, tell me. How’s your body feeling?"

At her prompting, I finally took stock of myself.

The first thing that came to mind was the pain that had nearly sent me into eternal sleep.

It was agony unlike any other—my body felt as though it were disintegrating, my skin splitting, eyes bursting, and internal organs melting away.

Just the memory of it made me gag involuntarily.

Fortunately, that seemed to be the extent of it. The pain was gone, at least for now.

"And?"

Pien urged me to continue.

"Well..."

Unfortunately, while the pain had subsided, my body didn’t feel fully restored. How to describe it...

It felt like a video game character with full health but zero stamina.

"Nothing hurts, but I feel utterly drained, like my body just won’t respond."

"..."

Pien nodded in understanding.

"Just like he said."

"He?"

"Barodros. The high priest from the church who helped you."

A high priest. I hadn’t paid much attention at the time due to the chaos, but now the weight of the title sank in. Within the vast hierarchy of the church, there were few positions loftier than that of a high priest.

"Well, isn’t that something? A guy like me, crossing paths with someone so distinguished."

"That’s rich, coming from someone who chats with tower masters and treats the Mage Tower like his backyard."

"Oh."

I’d almost forgotten. The tower masters were quite the big shots themselves.

I recalled the time the master of the Blue Tower visited my family estate and engaged in a tense standoff with the family head. Even among nobles, tower masters commanded respect.

A dry chuckle escaped me.

"Would the bastard I was as a child have ever imagined this?"

"So, what did the high priest say?"

"He said that while your physical issues might be resolved, your energy levels wouldn’t recover so easily."

In other words, my health bar might be full, but my stamina bar was still empty.

"Until you fully regain your strength, you’ll have trouble not just using mana but also performing basic physical tasks."

"Did he mention how to recover?"

"He did. It was a very clichéd suggestion, though."

"Let me guess. Eat well and rest?"

"Bingo."

Pien handed me the bowl of porridge and a spoon.

I took them and asked, "Did you make this?"

Pien avoided my gaze.

"I tried."

"Tried?"

"I looked away for a second, and it all burned. Clearly, the ingredients were at fault."

"..."

What exactly did she use? Eternal Fire’s Wrath? I’d never heard of a cook blaming the ingredients for burnt food before.

"What’s with that look? Got something to say?"

"No, I was just lamenting how those wicked ingredients robbed me of the chance to taste your cooking. Truly, the work of food thieves."

I inspected the porridge with my spoon. It had the perfect consistency, neither too thick nor too thin.

"Then who made this?"

"Master Didoa dropped by and cooked up a batch."

"Ah."

An alchemist. No wonder the porridge was flawless. They were the masters of precision, after all.

"It was quite the ordeal. They were about to throw a feast but settled for just this pot of porridge after some persuasion."

I chuckled, picturing Didoa tirelessly refilling teacups and snack plates in their lab.

"Think you can eat?"

"Yeah. My body seems fine enough. Just looking at this is making me hungry."

"Good. Then eat while I talk."

"What? You’re not feeding me?"

"Tsk."

Clicking her tongue in mock irritation, Pien snatched the bowl from my hands.

"Unbelievable. Do you think I’m some kind of caretaker?"

"If you don’t want to—"

"Of course, you’d paint me as the villain if I didn’t. Fine, just open your mouth."

Pien scooped some porridge, blew on it gently, and held it out.

"How is it?"

Pien watched me intently, her posture oddly stiff.

"Delicious. But you feeding me makes it not just porridge, but killer porridge."

"Ugh. Must you always—"

Though exasperated, she diligently fed me spoonful after spoonful.

As my mouth stayed busy, Pien filled the silence.

"The high priest said you should have died."

"Mmh?"

"He said that anyone else in your condition wouldn’t have survived. Your body should’ve given out entirely. But you managed to stay alive because of something ‘ridiculous’ you did."

"Ridiculous?"

Pien glanced at me, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Mastering the Blue Breath on the spot. What kind of mage saves themselves like that?"

"...He said I’d have died without it?"

"Yes. He was clear—simply suppressing your mana overflow wouldn’t have been enough. If you hadn’t used mana to reinforce your body, it would’ve collapsed entirely."

I shivered. Death had been closer than I thought.

"Did he say what I should do next?"

Pien nodded.

"He asked why you experienced such a severe overload. So, I had to tell him about your abnormal mana growth."

"And?"

"He said it’s likely to happen again."

"So I have to keep reinforcing my body?"

"Exactly."

"...Should I learn swordsmanship, too, now that I’ve mastered the Blue Breath?"

"Lisir, have you ever heard of anyone using both magic and swords at the same time?"

A mage-knight. In modern terms, it was a classic archetype. But in this world?

"Not really."

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"Do you know why?"

"They lack imagination?"

Pien sighed and shoved another spoonful of porridge into my mouth.

"Mana resonance is an intricate process. Even the most skilled mages and warriors struggle to maintain it. Balancing two entirely different forces? It’s inefficient to the extreme. The high priest was deeply concerned. The Blue Breath might’ve saved you this time, but it could become a major obstacle in your path."

"And?"

"So, we told him not to

worry about that."

Pien chuckled softly, as if amused by her own statement.

"Right?"

"...I’ll try to live up to those expectations."

Could the fledgling mage I once was have imagined this? That one day, I’d have to become a mage-knight just to survive?

***

As Pien fed me spoonfuls of porridge, she also spoon-fed me most of the information I needed to know—or would have been curious about.

"Oh, so this is one of the guest lodgings in the Mage Tower?"

"Yes. It’s a room they reserve for very important visitors."

By the time the bowl was nearly empty, only one lingering question remained on my mind.

"Pien, can I ask you one last thing?"

"Funny, I was just about to bring it up. You’re wondering what happened at the Mage Tower for them to suddenly offer you an honorary mage position, right?"

"Exactly."

In the hierarchy of the Mage Tower, apprentice mages were often seen as barely above commoners. If one of them dared to flaunt their status outside, there would certainly be someone ready to knock them down a peg.

And who would deliver that blow? None other than the full-fledged mages of the Mage Tower.

Only after completing the grueling apprenticeship could one be recognized as a true mage of the tower. It might seem like just one step on the surface, but countless apprentices failed to take that step even after a decade or more.

I’d read plenty of accounts in the library—testimonies from apprentices who never made it to full magehood. They painted an excruciatingly vivid picture of how difficult it was to achieve that status.

That was the very reason I’d initially refused Sir Meltas’s proposal to join the Mage Tower as a student. Sure, I could wield magic, but my theoretical knowledge was non-existent. Trying to become a full-fledged mage without it? I’d probably die an apprentice.

Yet here I was. Suddenly, they were telling me to skip being a supporter and jump straight to being a full mage.

It felt like asking Stanford if they had a job opening and being handed a professorship instead.

"Pien, just to clarify—this sort of thing isn’t common, right?"

"Are you seriously asking me if it’s normal for the Mage Tower, known for its disdain of outsiders and contempt for commoners, to offer an honorary mage position to a drifter with no faction or noble family?"

As Pien pointed out, this was beyond imagination given the Mage Tower’s infamous reputation.

Before delving into Pien’s explanation, I tried piecing together the reasons myself.

"Let’s see... rooting out a dark mage... the duel with Gerhen... mastering the Blue Breath on the spot..."

I had some guesses, but none seemed to fully explain why the Mage Tower would act so "desperate."

Just as I was about to give up and ask Pien for the full story, there was a knock at the door.

"Lisir, are you awake?"

It was Sir Meltas’s voice. Oddly, there was something unnatural about it, almost as if he didn’t want me to answer.

I couldn’t just ignore him based on a feeling, though.

"Yes, Sir Meltas. Come in."

"..."

A sigh came from behind the door.

"Very well, I’ll enter."

The door opened, revealing Sir Meltas in his signature gray robe—a symbol of his rank as the master of the Gray Mage Tower. His dreadlocked hair added to his commanding presence.

But behind him—

"Huh?"

Two other figures entered, one in a blue robe and the other in a green one.

Pien leaned close and whispered softly into my ear.

"See those two? The Mage Tower is panicking, afraid they’ll lose you."

The honorary mage offer—it wasn’t just a gesture of goodwill.

Its true meaning was loud and clear: "Back off! This one’s ours!"