Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

Binaeril collapsed into his seat. He needed to tend to his fallen comrades, but right now, he wanted to just lie down and rest, even if just for a moment. As the tension eased, his muscles screamed in agony. It was the result of forcing his magic beyond its limits.

“Ugh…”

A groan, whether from pain or on the verge of tears, escaped Binaeril’s lips. Despite this, he staggered to his feet and began to walk. Yunnaeril neither drew his sword nor passed the responsibility to Callisto. He simply watched with cold, indifferent eyes as his battered brother struggled.

“Apologize to our mother in hell, Yunnaeril.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Mother was a good person. Even if I were to fall into hell, I wouldn’t be able to greet her.”

It was a logically irrefutable point that left Binaeril speechless.

“And wouldn’t a brother who saves countless people and is called the ‘Knight of Salvation’ be more suited for hell than a brother driven by petty vengeance trying to kill his kin?”

“Stop your shameless talk!”

Binaeril unfurled his blue wings and launched them at Yunnaeril. His overstrained mind screamed in protest. Yunnaeril, seeing the incoming magical attack, grabbed Starfall.

“With the scabbard?”

With a simple swing of the sheathed sword, Binaeril’s magic scattered like sand. Yunnaeril stood firm and asked,

“Is this still all you’ve got?”

Even though he was tired, it was an attack filled with his true intent. At the very least, he had expected Yunnaeril to draw Starfall to block it. Yunnaeril spoke again.

“Binaeril, take good care of the fragment you have. Even if it’s out of petty vengeance, grow stronger. In the end, even if you don’t wish for it, I will come for you.”

With those words, Yunnaeril left. Callisto, carrying Matthias’s corpse, followed him. It was as if he were critiquing an unripe fruit. In other words, Binaeril was still not a worthy opponent.

“Ugh…”

Showing such a pitiful sight to his brother after years apart, and being treated as nothing more than a child’s spiteful tantrum by the same brother he had trained so hard to take revenge on, made him feel wretched. The sky-blue color faded into a watery hue. Only after a brief time passed did Binaeril regain the strength to care for his fallen comrades.

Yunnaeril and Callisto left the canyon and headed for the northern border of Ruben. Callisto carried Matthias’s corpse slung over his shoulder.

After only a few steps, his knees buckled. “Ugh…” The backlash from overusing Starfall overwhelmed Callisto. He swallowed the searing pain that coursed through him as if his entire body had been struck by lightning.

“Are you alright, Sir Callisto?” Yunnaeril approached him in his usual gentle tone. He took the corpse that Callisto had been carrying and then casually tossed the youngest’s body onto the ground as if it were mere refuse.

“It seems you overexerted yourself wielding Starfall.”

“I apologize. I moved as soon as the Order’s duties were completed, but even so, I was a bit late.”

“A bit late.” As a result of that slight delay, the Order’s twelfth knight was dead, at the hands of none other than the captain’s own kin. Yet Yunnaeril showed no sign of guilt about this fact. 

Callisto, kneeling with his arms wrapped around himself, looked up at Yunnaeril. The sunlight filtering through the leaves made Yunnaeril’s face appear intermittently bright, like a prisoner seen through the bars of a cell.

“You seem unfamiliar, Captain.”

“Too unfamiliar. Are you truly the Yunnaeril I once knew?”

“What do you mean by that, Sir Callisto?”

It had been nearly ten years since Callisto first met Yunnaeril, but he had never seemed so foreign as he did today. Yunnaeril acted as if he had no lingering attachment to Matthias, who had particularly looked up to him among the other paladins. Callisto recalled Binaeril’s revelation.

“He is a kin-slayer.”

Callisto had always considered Yunnaeril the most fitting person to be a knight of the Order. He believed in him, covering for him, and tried to understand him as a comrade, no matter what orders he gave or what past he had. But today, he did not want to.

Callisto asked a question that had been nagging at him.

“Captain Yunnaeril, what is a fragment?”

Yunnaeril’s eyebrows twitched.

“Does the mysterious power and strength of both the cursed sword and the holy sword, as well as your brother Binaeril, relate to these fragments?”

“Why did Sister Priya leave the Order? Why have you become so obsessed with certain ‘objects’?”

“Who are you, really? What is your true purpose, Captain?”

Callisto poured out all the questions he had long wanted to ask but hadn’t. Yunnaeril withdrew the hand he had extended toward him.

He looked down at Matthias’s cold corpse. What could that mean? Was it a calculation that one more dead body wouldn’t matter now that the youngest was already dead? Suspicions that he would normally never entertain began to spread like paint. If Yunnaeril intended to kill him, it would be difficult to resist. Callisto and Yunnaeril were evenly matched in strength. When it came time to appoint the captain of the Order, Callisto believed that Yunnaeril was more suited to the position than his older self and conceded the captain’s title to him, remaining as the vice-captain. But now, Yunnaeril had the holy sword Starfall bestowed by the Order, while Callisto had nothing.

Yunnaeril’s eyes were obscured in shadow, making them unreadable. Callisto finally asked a question he should never have asked.

***

“That day, what happened to you in that village in the barbarian lands?”

“Richard Bernstein is dead.”

“In the process, Professor Pierre Blanchot was injured. Professor Avia Flynn has no major injuries but will need to rest for some time.”

“I received that report.”

“And…”

Binaeril hesitated, debating whether or not to report this.

“There was a conflict with the paladins of the Holy Kingdom of Vitory. We had no casualties, but one of the paladins died in the skirmish.”

Archmage Elfenbine remained silent for a moment. Perhaps it was surprising news to her, as a few seconds of silence passed before she responded. Since the founding of Elfenbine Tower, relations with the Order had always been strained. The Order, like the empire to the west, did not openly advocate anti-magic sentiments and persecute mages, but they were also a large power competing for control of the continent. The emergence of a new organization was not welcome.

“Was this your doing, Binaeril?” the Archmage asked directly. She was asking if Binaeril was the one who killed the paladin. A mage from the Tower killing a knight of the Order could potentially escalate into an international dispute if the Holy Kingdom of Vitory took issue with it.

The veil covering the Archmage’s face rustled. She continued in a nonchalant tone.

“Did you get what you wanted?”

“…Are you referring to the fragment?”

“Whether it’s a fragment or something else, I’m asking if you found what you were looking for,” the Archmage’s tone carried a subtle fragrance and a smile. It seemed she was trying to lighten the overly heavy atmosphere.

“I found it,” Binaeril replied.

“Can you show it to me?”

The cursed sword Mimung could not be shown. The sword, now a mere shell, had been left behind. Instead, Binaeril unfurled his wings of mana.

Whoosh―!

Within the magic-rich territory of Elfenbine, Binaeril’s wings shone a deeper blue than before. The wind generated by his wings caused the Archmage’s veil to flutter slightly. She brought her hand to her mouth in surprise. In that brief moment, a glimpse of her lower face was visible to Binaeril for the first time. Her pale pink lips were striking, and her face showed little sign of age.

“Impressive, Binaeril.”

Binaeril retracted his wings and spoke, “Archmage, I have a question.”

“You once mentioned that the fragments possess both immense power and a terrible curse.”

“Heh, you have a good memory.”

“At that time, you also said that the end of a man deeply involved with the fragments was not a pleasant one. Was that man the Archmage Dekypleio?”

Asking about Dekypleio in front of the Archmage might be considered rude. Hence, he had avoided the question until now. But it was a question only she could answer, so Binaeril braved the potential rudeness to ask.

“What did you mean by ‘Dekypleio’s end’?”

Compared to the legacy Archmage Dekypleio left the world, little was known about his demise. Binaeril had once asked Veritas, but even he did not answer.

“Please, tell me. Is the fragment a power that ruins people?”

The Archmage did not respond for a long time. Binaeril, however, had a rough idea of what her answer would be. Veritas was more of a detriment than a benefit to Binaeril. At least now. But without borrowing that power, revenge would be a distant goal.

“Binaeril, any power that exceeds its user’s capacity will ruin them, regardless of its nature.”

“You believe the fragments are that kind of power.”

“It depends on the vessel that wields it.”

“But what should one do if such power is necessary?”

“Why is it necessary? What drives you to such lengths?”

It was simple. Binaeril’s revenge was not yet complete.

“I have a goal. There’s a man I need to bring down, and I must hear him admit his wrongs from his own mouth.”

“Is it Yunnaeril Dalheim?” The Archmage seemed to know everything. The facts Binaeril hadn’t disclosed were not unknown to her; they simply hadn’t been revealed.

“…Yes.”

“You intend to use the power of the fragments to ensure that revenge.”

“I can stop whenever I become stronger than my brother.”

“That’s an empty promise. Yunnaeril must have borrowed the power of the fragments as well.”

“How did you know?”

“All inferred from our conversation.”

The Archmage sighed softly. She knew that warning him of the dangers wouldn’t stop Binaeril.

“Binaeril, once you achieve your goal, gather the fragments and bring them to me.”

“Didn’t you say you couldn’t intervene in the power of the fragments?”

“That doesn’t mean I can just stand by and watch you die. I’ll find a way to help, within my capabilities.”

After his meeting with the Archmage, Binaeril returned to his room. Inside, Inyakan was waiting for him. He hadn’t changed clothes or washed.

Binaeril, startled, asked, “Inyakan, what’s going on? You look like you’re about to leave. Didn’t you say you were going to meet Dean Yulio?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. The old man found nothing of value. So, I have only one hope left.”

Binaeril then remembered the promise he had made to Inyakan.

“Binaeril, it’s time to fulfill your promise. You told me you knew a way to uncover the truth about the deaths of the Inya tribe. Tell me, who was responsible for my family’s death?”