Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

Due to Binaeril’s strong insistence, the team entering the underground cemetery was kept minimal. Besides Binaeril, there were only three knights—Sir Baron, Sir Asdal, and Sir Gustav—and Duke Torben Dux, making a total of five. Departing from the Ulm Outpost, they headed straight for the underground cemetery. Along the way, Binaeril easily dealt with the undead hordes they encountered, preserving the strength of the Duke and the knights.

However, something peculiar was happening.

“The further we go inside, the fewer undead we encounter,” Binaeril observed.

“It’s strange. Aren’t the undead supposed to be coming from within this place?” Sir Baron mused.

Veritas confirmed their suspicions.

– The number of undead detected around us has significantly decreased.

Why was that?

It could be that Balram had suffered from his previous encounter with Binaeril, or perhaps he was conserving his strength in anticipation of their approach.

“The position of that Dark Mage is indeed unfavorable,” the Duke remarked.

“What’s there?” asked Sir Asdal.

“Yeah. I’ve always wondered where all these corpses came from, but it never occurred to me until now.”

Sir Gustav answered on the Duke’s behalf. “Where we’re heading is a massive underground cemetery.”

“A cemetery?” Binaeril was puzzled.

“Yes. Hundreds, possibly more, bodies are interred there.”

Binaeril inquired further, “Is it a common cemetery for the deceased of the duchy?”

“No.”

“Then who is buried there?”

The Duke’s expression turned grim. “The bodies of non-human races massacred long ago lie there.”

A massacre significant enough to result in hundreds of bodies. Even Binaeril, well-versed in continental history, had never heard of it.

– Naturally. The Rotfallen Massacre is a forgotten history, unknown to the world.

‘A forgotten history?’

– More like a concealed history. A disgraceful past that the Empire took steps to hide.

Veritas elaborated.

“This is a very old tale. In the past, when demons first appeared, the entire Empire was plunged into despair.”

The emergence of demons indeed marked an ancient story, one over a hundred years old.

“Many imperial citizens died, and scholars tried to uncover the cause of the demon’s appearance. But no one could find a definitive reason.”

“And what does that have to do with the massacre?” Binaeril asked.

The Duke stared intently at Binaeril. “Sir Binaeril, when people fall into chaos, the first action they take is to reject unfamiliar entities.”

“Surely not…”

“Yes. Someone claimed that the non-human races created the demons, and baseless rumors spread like wildfire. Eventually, a large army was organized from the imperial capital, declaring war against the non-human races.”

Binaeril swallowed hard.

“The end of that war occurred here, at Rotfallen.”

They had almost reached their destination, moving diligently. In the distance, a slight rise in the ground could be seen. Binaeril initially thought it was a low hill but realized as they approached that it was a broad, old, and very low-lying structure.

“I’ve only heard about it, never visited myself,” the Duke said as he gazed at the entrance to the underground cemetery.

“The race that suffered the most deaths here were the Toin.”

The mention of Toin made Binaeril think of Bapaluga.

“But there were other non-human races among your soldiers, Your Grace. Are they unaware of this fact?”

Even though it wasn’t the Duke’s doing, it still seemed unsettling.

“They’re mostly comrades I met while serving as a mercenary in the north. There are very few from the south.”

The enormous entrance of the cemetery yawned open like the maw of an abyss, welcoming them.

“This underground cemetery was built by an emperor who repented for the past sins. Because of its gruesome history, all sorts of eerie rumors circulate about this place.”

“…For instance?” Binaeril asked, looking into the deep darkness of the underground cemetery.

“There is a rumor that, in the deepest part of the cemetery, there is a living magic sword filled with nothing but hatred for humans…”

Binaeril had a hunch that this was more than just a rumor. “Does this magic sword have a name?”

“According to the rumors, yes.” The Duke picked up some red dirt from the ground, rubbing it between his fingers before scattering it into the air. “The sword is called Mimung. It is said to be created from the vengeful spirits of the buried Toin.”

The magic sword Mimung awakened one day. It didn’t know what had awakened it. In the cold, musty underground cemetery, Mimung was tormented by endless hatred. Hatred for humans, the cries and laments of the buried spirits. Over time, Mimung became the embodiment of that hatred.

It resurrected the souls of the bodies impaled on its blade, making them its minions. This is how Balram came to be.

Mimung granted Balram power and immortality. Through Balram, it gathered people and fed on them to sustain itself. The more humans it killed, the more its thirst for hatred seemed to be quenched.

The humans killed by Mimung’s power rose again to kill more humans. Their vitality became nourishment for Mimung.

As it continued its indiscriminate killing spree, Mimung realized one day that there were others like it in the world. And it instinctively knew that it and those like it were destined to devour each other.

It needed more power. More human vitality!

But now, the most powerful presence it had ever felt was approaching. Mimung could sense it.

“Yes, Master,” Balram said, trembling at the foot of the sword.

-Balram! We must prepare.

“What do you mean, Master?”

-Something akin to myself is approaching. I can feel it. It comes straight for us!

Balram had never seen his master so agitated.

“What…what is it?”

-We must prepare to leave. Draw me out. We must leave Rotfallen.

“But we haven’t gathered enough vitality yet…”

-Do as I command!

Mimung inflicted pain upon Balram’s soul. Groaning, Balram approached and grasped the sword’s hilt.

-Draw me out!

Balram pulled the sword with all his might. The rotting body impaled on its blade snapped and fell off.

We cannot win right now. Even now, the overwhelming presence approaching suffocates me.

-We must go far, far away from here. Flee, Balram!

From the deepest part of the underground cemetery, Balram began to run.

Upon entering the cemetery, it was so dark that one couldn’t see an inch ahead.

“It’s too dark. Baron! Do we have a torch or something?”

“I will provide light,” Binaeril said, creating a dim orb of light and letting it float among the group.

“Wow,” murmured the knights in short admiration.

The narrow, elongated interior of the cemetery was revealed. The corridors were so narrow that two people standing side by side would fill them, and along the walls, moisture and a foul odor seeped out.

‘Veritas, how about now? Can you sense the location of the page?’

– Below us. Deep down. We have to descend a long way.

“Let’s proceed slowly.”

As they turned a few corners, even the sliver of light from the entrance disappeared.

“This is rather ominous, Your Grace,” one of the knights remarked.

“It’s eerily quiet, and the smell is foul,” another added.

“Stop whining. We’re here to catch that Dark Mage. Once we get him, this war with the undead will be over,” Duke Dux replied.

Sir Gustav, picking his words carefully, spoke up. “But, Your Grace…”

“What is it?”

“If this is truly the Dark Mage’s base, it means the undead are originating from here, right?”

“Most likely.”

“Then, doesn’t that mean they could spring at us from these narrow corridors?”

At that moment, Sir Baron, who was leading the group, suddenly stopped. The knights behind him cursed as they collided.

“Sir Gustav, it’s not ‘they could.’ They are here.”

“Undead ahead!” someone shouted.

“Raise your shields!” the Duke commanded. The knights tried to lift their small shields, but the cramped space made it difficult. The clattering of armor and weapons echoed loudly.

This was not an ideal condition for combat.

“Everyone in front, crouch down as low as you can!” Binaeril ordered.

“…Do as Sir Binaeril says!”

Binaeril was third in line. The two knights in front of him quickly crouched down.

“Fly, light!” he chanted, creating another orb of light and sending it towards the undead to gauge their numbers. But the narrow, long corridor made it hard to determine the exact count. All he could see was a horde of undead stretching as far as his eyes could see.

In this situation, he needed to maximize his penetration power. He added a flame element to his magic bullet, aiming at the forehead of the nearest undead.

“Pierce!”

The flaming arrow shot from his fingertip and pierced through the undead’s forehead, then the one behind it, and the one behind that.

“Grrr—” The undead didn’t stop. Simply piercing them wouldn’t halt their advance. The flame left by the projectile spread across their dry bodies, consuming them until they were entirely burnt.

“Well done, Sir Binaeril!”

The knights behind him cheered, stomping their feet. But their cheers were short-lived as the ground began to tremble.

“Binaeril, Sir?” one of them called out.

The cemetery was shaking. Dust and small stones fell from the narrow ceiling above.

“It feels like it’s collapsing!” someone shouted. The knights, adept in the dark, turned their gazes to their leader, Duke Dux.

Should they retreat? Or press forward?

Ahead, the burning corpses of the undead blocked their path. The shaking grew more pronounced.

“Everyone, retre—!”

The Duke’s command was cut short by the collapsing underground cemetery. The ground beneath them started to give way.

The floor beneath them began to collapse.

“Everyone, protect your heads! Hold your swords across your chests!” Duke Dux commanded, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of falling debris.

“Magic wall, shield us all!” Binaeril quickly cast a protective barrier around the group of five. 

The descent seemed interminable, amplifying the fear of an endless plunge. It felt like falling from the height of a three-story building. 

Thud! Thud! Thud!

“Ugh!”

“Oof!”

The Duke, the knights, and Binaeril landed in a heap, greeting the ground with a mixture of relief and pain. Unlike the relatively lightweight Binaeril, the heavily armored knights emitted louder cries of discomfort.

“Is everyone alright?” Binaeril asked, listening to the sound of stones still falling outside the magic barrier.

“I’m… alright.”

“Feels like I got beaten all over, though.”

“Hmm… I’m fine. Did you protect us, Binaeril?” asked the Duke.

“I tried to cushion the impact with magic.”

“Good work,” the Duke acknowledged, looking up. Binaeril directed his light orb upwards, revealing the distance they had fallen.

“If we had just fallen, we’d have ended up as neighbors to the cemetery’s residents,” the Duke remarked.

They found themselves in a vast chamber, a welcome change from the narrow corridor.

“It’s more spacious here. Feels a bit less claustrophobic,” one of the knights commented as they stood up, dusting themselves off and taking in their surroundings.

“Light, spread out,” Binaeril incanted, sending light to illuminate the chamber.

As the glow expanded, their relief was short-lived.

“…Sorry, but I feel claustrophobic again,” one knight muttered.

In the faint, firefly-like light, they saw their new surroundings clearly. The brief sense of security ebbed away, replaced by a tense awareness.

Duke Dux growled his order, “Prepare for battle.”