Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

The wound, which had been dark and decaying, began to regain color. Although the expression might sound strange, it was the most accurate description. The injured soldier’s face gradually relaxed. His body, previously struggling against both the deep gash and the malevolent energy, now looked peaceful as the malevolent energy was drawn out.

“Are you a priest?” Gustav asked, staring at Binaeril’s profile without realizing it. Binaeril, focused on Eden, let out a small laugh.

“I’m a mage, as I mentioned before.”

The injured soldier managed to lift his head to examine his wound, his eyes filled with reverence.  

“Are you a god?”  

“No, I’m just a mage.”  

“No mere mage could do this, Sir Binaeril,” the Duke said, placing a hand on Binaeril’s shoulder, echoing everyone’s sentiments.

“The remaining wound just needs proper cleaning and bandaging,” Binaeril said. The injured soldier, enduring his pain, clasped Binaeril’s hands repeatedly in gratitude.

“Are there any other wounded?” Binaeril asked as he moved around the outpost, examining other injuries. After completing a round, he returned to find Eden exhausted and spent.

[Binaeril, I’m so tired….]  

‘You did well.’

Eden returned to the ring and fell asleep. She would need to be left alone to rest properly.

‘Veritas, can you pinpoint the exact location of the page?’ Binaeril wondered. The cause of the undead outbreak wasn’t entirely clear, but someone seemed to be exploiting the page’s power.

‘Probably that one,’ he thought, suspecting the Lich he had encountered at Paguin Castle.  

– I can sense the general direction but not precisely. I need more time. It would help if we moved further inside.

That would require the Duke’s permission. For now, Binaeril had accompanied them as the Duke’s assistant.

He was summoned to the strategy meeting.  

“Are you here?”

Inside a tent at Ulm, the Duke, Sir Baron, Sir Asdal, and the outpost commander, Sir Gustav, were gathered.

“I wanted your input, so I called you. Come over here.”

Gustav provided a lengthy report on the front-line situation.

“Anything else of note?”  

“Um… well…” Gustav hesitated.

“Speak freely, Gustav,” the Duke encouraged.  

“There were reports of sightings within the inner perimeter.”  

“All the inhabitants inside the controlled area should have been evacuated, right?”  

“Yes, that’s correct. I hesitated to report it because it’s uncertain…”

The Duke scratched his chin and prompted further.  

“Tell us what you know. I’ll make the judgment.”

“Not long ago, a night watchman felt someone’s presence. They said it appeared to be a person wearing a hood.”

“A hood?”  

“Yes, a black hood, and there were several of them. When the soldier called out, they disappeared, but this was found at the sighting location.”

“What is it?” The Duke asked as Gustav handed over a straw doll.

Of those gathered, only Binaeril recognized the object.

“Dark mages.”  

“This is an item used by dark mages.”

At Binaeril’s words, the atmosphere in the meeting grew tense and cold.

“Is that really true, Sir Binaeril?”  

“Yes. I encountered a dark mage who used such items at Paguin Castle. He is dead now.”

Dark mages used various mediums—drugs, blood, straw dolls. Binaeril was certain the figure the soldier saw was a dark mage. He could sense the ominous energy emanating from the doll.

“It’s highly likely they are the ones raising the undead around here. Do you know where they went?”  

“No. According to the soldier’s report, they disappeared in an instant.”

The Duke sighed regretfully.  

“If we had captured them, we could have at least prevented the undead in this area from appearing!”  

“But it’s alright. At least we know they’re operating nearby.”

“It sounds like you have a plan, Sir Binaeril.”

Binaeril didn’t answer but shook the straw doll in his hand. The gathered people gave him puzzled looks.

For mages who use specific items as mediums, their cherished objects are special. That’s why they’re called ‘cherished.’ Like a knight values his sword or a stonemason values his tools. Priya’s obsession with her pipe was the same.

Dark mages were no exception. If anything, their twisted nature made them even more attached to their items. 

When the one-eyed Pelermos found his lost straw doll, he recognized it immediately. He rejoiced, exclaiming, “I missed you, my friend!” 

He had searched for his lost straw doll every day, and now he hugged it, vowing never to lose it again.

With his eyes closed, hugging his cherished item, Pelermos heard a chilling sound behind him. Even his dull senses could feel the distinct wave of magic power.

“Don’t scream if you value your life. Answer with ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Nod or shake your head. Understand?”  

“What, what do you—”

Pelermos’ bony shoulder was pierced. He swallowed his scream, his frozen lips unable to make a sound.  

‘A mage…?’  

“Do I need to explain again, or do you understand now?”

Desperately, he nodded. The voice of his attacker sounded young, but that didn’t calm him. He needed to cast a spell to resist or do anything.

“Are you a dark mage?”  

“Were you raising undead near Rotfallen?”  

…Nod.  

“Was a lich, looking like a skeleton, the one who hired you?”  

Nod, nod!  

“Lead me to your hideout. Lie, and your head will explode.”

The dark mages’ hideout was hidden in the desolate forest, behind a secret passage leading underground. The entrance was concealed by an illusionary magic field, making it nearly impossible to find without precise knowledge.

Binaeril pushed Pelermos ahead as they entered the dark mages’ hideout.  

“Pelermos? Where the hell have you been? Because of your slacking, we’ve had more work!”  

A barrage of complaints came from deeper inside the hideout.

Binaeril pressed himself against the wall near the entrance. The magic bullet he had cast still aimed at Pelermos’ head.  

‘One, two, three… Five in total?’

‘The key is the first strike. They must be taken down before they can use their abilities.’

Dark mages had various abilities—Junkies, Bleeders, Cursers—but they all had a common weakness: they needed time to cast their spells. Their magic skills were sloppy. Binaeril’s plan was to take them out swiftly.

“Come here. You’ve been slacking off long enough. Time for some punishment.”

“No, please! I’m sorry!”

One of the mages, a large figure judging by the heavy footsteps, approached the entrance where Pelermos and Binaeril were.

“…Who are you?”

The brute noticed Binaeril hiding behind the entrance, his brow furrowing. He didn’t remember inviting such a guest. And so the fight began.

The brute’s head snapped back, a hole drilled through his forehead, and his massive body slowly fell backward.

In hindsight, this was already the third battle Binaeril had fought against dark mages. First, there were goblin, then the dark mages at Paguin Castle, and now these ones. The dark mages didn’t know who Binaeril was, but he had a good understanding of their abilities.

As the brute fell, the next mage, standing just behind, quickly scratched his forearm with long nails. This one used blood as a medium.

“Freeze.”

The blood mage’s arms froze with a cracking sound, rendering him unable to fight.

Next was a tattooed man, the drug addict. Binaeril clapped his hands and chanted,

“Crush and burst!”

His strong will materialized through the wind, the pressure squeezing the tattooed man’s body. However, it wasn’t enough to kill him.

“Hah!”

The drug mage summoned his power to push back the wind. But his trousers were soaked, and water dripped from them.

“Oh no!”

His vials of potions, stashed inside his hood, had all shattered, leaking their contents.

“Who the hell are you!”

The last dark mage didn’t reach for potions, scratch his skin, or pull out a straw doll. He was a new type of dark mage.

“Go, Red Fang!”

He opened the cage in the corner, releasing a ferocious beast.

“SCREECH!”

The goblin, given an overly grandiose name, was quickly dispatched by Binaeril’s strike.

“No! Red Fang!”

The dark mage wept, hugging the goblin’s body.

“…I almost feel like I’m the bad guy here.”

The dark mages were a disorganized bunch. Once their abilities were neutralized, all they could muster were weak basic spells. Within five minutes, the only ones left alive in the hideout were Binaeril and Pelermos.

“Y-you’ll let me live, right?” Pelermos asked, giving Binaeril a pitiful smile.

Ignoring him, Binaeril walked to the center of the hideout. There stood a large altar. Along one wall were organs displayed by type—eyeballs, hearts, lungs. A small adjoining room, barred with iron, bore signs of previous inhabitants. They had likely brought in locals, killed them here, and drained their life force to create undead.

Binaeril felt a wave of nausea rise in his throat.

When he returned to the main hideout, he found Pelermos rifling through his comrades’ bodies. Seeing Binaeril, he offered an awkward grin.

“Just gathering some valuable materials…”

Binaeril ensured Pelermos met the same fate as his friends.