Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

The second contestant was a member of the Miao Tribe team, whom they had faced in the finals of the Catball competition. It seemed that today’s match, even though it was a team event, only required one participant from each team. The one who stepped forward was the person who had taken on the role of the ‘priest.’

“That person broke the rules back then.”

It was the same priest who had targeted Binaeril during the finals by using the power of the spirits. The Miao priest, crossing paths with the first contestant, walked to the center and picked up the ball of thread. Then, they closed their eyes and focused deeply.

One common misconception among those ignorant about magic is that only mages can handle mana. But in reality, this is not the case. Many people can manipulate mana, even if they are not mages. Mana, after all, is the manifestation of will and mental strength, turning imagination into reality. This is also why knights, honed through rigorous training, tend to have a natural resistance to magic—it is rare for anything to strengthen a person’s mental resilience as much as intense repetition and discipline. 

When considering who besides mages could skillfully handle mana, spirit summoners would undoubtedly be at the top of the list. Among them, the spirit summoners of the Miao Tribe, who have a tradition of venerating spirits, were particularly exceptional.

“What… what are they doing?”

“Shh. Quiet down.”

As the Miao priest stood still, holding the thread with their eyes closed, some impatient spectators began to murmur. Although they couldn’t see it, Binaeril could feel it—mana was surging from the Miao priest. The mana stirred up a faint breeze at his feet. The spectators in the front rows felt the refreshing breeze on their faces but couldn’t quite grasp its true nature—it was the energy of the spirits.

Now, all the spectators were focused on the priest. As the priest infused the thread with the gathered spirit energy, the mana traveled through the thread and spread throughout Steelbelt. If the light from the first contestant had been a vivid white, the light this time had a subtle green hue.

“Wow!”

The green light, merging with the colors of the setting sun, transformed the scene into something from an entirely different world. It was a mesmerizing experience, distinctly different from before. The light spread beyond the square and surrounding areas, illuminating even the distant parts of the city.

“Impressive.”

Binaeril was genuinely impressed. He hadn’t realized it during the Catball match, but this person was a highly skilled spirit summoner. The Miao priest, having exhausted much of their concentration, looked almost gaunt. Satisfied with the distance the lanterns had been lit, they stepped back with a pleased smile.

After allowing a moment for the atmosphere to settle, the announcer called out, “That was an incredibly beautiful sight! Now, let’s welcome the next contestant!”

The third contestant was a woman with a stoic expression. She appeared to be around Binaeril’s age, perhaps slightly older. She was a beauty with a generally pale complexion.

She calmly walked up to the platform and picked up the ball of thread. Unlike the first contestant, she didn’t shout to gather energy, nor did she take as much time as the second contestant. The mana she infused into the thread seemed effortless. But the result was anything but ordinary.

‘M-Mana…!’

Binaeril was inwardly shocked. The sheer amount of mana swirling around her was unbelievable. If the breeze stirred by the second contestant’s mana had been a mere zephyr, this was more akin to a whirlwind. The spectators nearby were startled as the hot wind struck their faces. She focused the mana into the thread and then turned her gaze toward the street.

Wherever her eyes landed, the lanterns lit up in unison. From the nearby areas to the farthest reaches of the city, lanterns burst into light. Even when she looked away, the lights remained lit. The lanterns burned with a fierce crimson glow, as bright as the sun.

The announcer was momentarily speechless, his mouth agape as he watched the lights of Steelbelt blaze into life all at once. 

“What… What is happening?!”

Her gaze continued to extend farther, and not a single lantern flickered as they continued to light up. The sheer volume of mana pouring out of her was almost impossible to believe coming from a human body. At that moment, a thought crossed Binaeril’s mind.

The Festival of Three Names celebrates the traditions and cultures of different races on each day. The first day, the Beer Festival, honors the culture of the Toin people. The second day, the Catball competition, celebrates the Miao Tribe. So, which race does the Lantern Festival on the last day honor?

The Archmage Elfenbine once told Binaeril something that now echoed in his mind. 

“The origin of nymphs lies in their unique ability to wield mana, Binaeril.”

Binaeril tore his gaze away from the glowing streets and looked at the woman clutching the thread. Throughout his time at Elfenbine, he had encountered countless mages, but never someone with such pure and immense mana. This was no ordinary human—this was clearly something beyond human.

“What a magnificent sight!” 

At the announcer’s signal, the festival organizers began to check the lanterns. When the tally was complete, the announcer shouted out the results.

“Incredible! Every single lantern in the city has been lit!”

The crowd erupted in murmurs of amazement. If she had illuminated every lantern in the city, wasn’t the outcome already decided? Binaeril approached the woman as she returned to her spot. When he took her hand, she looked at him in surprise.

“Are you the ‘Mother of Nymphs’?”

Her eyes widened in shock, trembling visibly.

“…Who are you?”

Binaeril saw her reaction and knew for sure.

“Found you!” 

But before Binaeril could say anything more, the announcer introduced him as the final contestant, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Reluctantly, Binaeril was pulled toward the center stage.

“To be honest, winning doesn’t really matter anymore,” he muttered to himself. The whole reason he’d joined the festival in the first place was because of the Toin King’s promise to help him meet a nymph. Only now did he realize that Ducat’s promise had been half a jest. Simply staying in Steelbelt during the Festival of Three Names would naturally lead to encountering a nymph.

“Binaeril’s team! Are you going to give up now?” The announcer goaded him, seeing that he was just standing there without picking up the thread.

“Binaeril’s team has won the previous two festivals! Are you really going to throw in the towel here?”

“Boo!”

“At least give it a try!”

“Where’s that fire from the first day?”

The excited crowd shouted at Binaeril, urging him to act. He didn’t really need to participate, but from behind, someone called his name. When he turned around, he saw Inyakan mouthing the words, “Show. Them.”

Well, there was no point in backing out now, was there?

Binaeril picked up the thread. “Honestly, I’m not sure I can win this.” 

As he summoned the remnants of his mana, something began to stir around his shoulder blades, as if something was about to emerge. “But I’m sure I won’t lose.”

Was there anyone—mage, nymph, or any other being—who possessed more mana than Binaeril? He doubted it. After all, he was the heir to Dekypleio’s legacy, the master of the fragments.

Behind Binaeril, blue wings of mana began to burst forth, startling everyone. The announcer, the crowd, the nameless nymph woman, even Dominic—they were all shocked.

“What… what is that?” Dominic, flustered, turned to Inyakan, who was standing next to him.

Inyakan casually wiped his nose and said, “Can’t you tell? It’s magic.”

“That’s magic?”

Even Dominic, known as the “Witch Slayer,” had never seen magic like this before.

“That?”

“Isn’t that what magic is supposed to look like?” Inyakan shot back with a question of his own, and Dominic shook his head.

“I’ve never seen or heard of anything like that.”

Dominic’s memory of Binaeril’s magic was limited to things like firing mana bullets and controlling spirits—nothing like this.

“I always thought magic was supposed to be like that,” Dominic muttered, though it was an utterly ignorant misconception.

As Binaeril stood at the front of the platform, his mana began to spread out. The previous contestant had stirred up a whirlwind of mana, but what was Binaeril’s? It wasn’t wind. It was more akin to a shift in temperature, a change in the very essence of the season. The plaza of Steelbelt, which had been sweltering with heat, was suddenly engulfed in a chilling cold.

The cold, biting mana was characteristic of Binaeril’s power. Spectators in the front row felt their faces sting with the icy chill radiating from him. Frost flowers began to bloom on the ground where Binaeril stood. The mana he channeled through the thread spread out, igniting lanterns with a blue, frigid light. Icicles quickly formed along the thin wires of the lanterns.

The lanterns in Steelbelt still held the warm, white light that the nymph woman had kindled. But now, as if playing a game of tag, the lights in the plaza slowly began to change. The color of Binaeril’s mana appeared at first to be a pale gray, then shifted to a grayish-blue, and finally to a pure, icy blue—like the light reflected off flawlessly frozen ice. The people felt their eyes ache from the sheer brilliance of that icy blue light.

From the central plaza, the cold mana gradually spread outwards, reaching the outskirts of the city like a slow but inevitable seasonal change.

“This… this is…” 

The announcer stammered, waiting for the results to be tallied. 

“Unbelievable! We’re being told that every single lantern in the city has been lit!”

The people had no choice but to acknowledge the truth: today’s competition was neck and neck.

“Uh, so, then the winner is…” The Toin announcer hesitated, scratching his head. Two contestants had managed to light every lantern in the city—a feat unprecedented in the history of the Festival of Three Names. How could the winner be decided in such a situation?

As the festival’s conclusion dragged on without a clear victor, a sharp shout rang out from the crowd.

“There he is!”

The cry came from an armored soldier pushing through the crowd.

“It’s the wanted man! Capture him!”

Even from a distance, Binaeril recognized the emblem on their chests at a glance.

“The Order,” he muttered, realizing his mistake. He had thought the Order’s soldiers had left when they were no longer visible in the streets during the day, but it seemed some had stayed behind.

“This way! Capture him!” 

At the soldier’s shout, others quickly converged, pushing through the crowd and closing in on the stage. Inyakan and Dominic also recognized the emblem of the Order on their chests.

“What’s this about? Are they trying to get back at us for what happened earlier?” Dominic asked, frowning.

“It’s not that. The Order is looking for us,” Inyakan replied.

“For us? But why? They didn’t show any signs of this during the day,” Dominic retorted, bewildered.

There was no time to explain everything. “We need to get out of here,” Inyakan urged.

The crowd began to scatter in confusion.

“Capture him!”

“Out of the way!”

The soldiers advanced with spears and swords in hand, intimidating the onlookers, who quickly parted like leaves in the wind.

“Let’s escape in the opposite direction,” Dominic suggested.

But by then, more soldiers from the Order had already closed in from the other side. In their hesitation, they found themselves surrounded.

“We’ll have to break through!” Dominic declared.

“There are too many people! Innocent bystanders could get hurt!” Inyakan warned.

“Then what do you suggest?” Dominic demanded, frustration evident in his voice.

Binaeril didn’t have a clear solution either. Should he use his magic bullets to target the soldiers one by one? But there were too many soldiers, and with them charging through the crowd, he could easily hit someone innocent by mistake.

As Binaeril pondered their next move, Inyakan shouted, “Binaeril, fly!”

“Fly? Are you crazy?”