Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

After Inyakan fled, the generous soldiers of Count Huber took the ailing Binaeril and provided him with a room in the manor. Though it was a grim place with bars and no contact with the outside world, it was still more humane than abandoning him in the deserted plains. For a fever-ridden Binaeril, the guarded prison of the manor was a better environment.

“Hey, prisoner!”

“…”

“Prisoner!”

The guard who intended to interrogate Binaeril shook his head in frustration upon seeing him shiver and groan in pain, then walked away. Since the day he was captured, he had been lying there as if suffering from some tropical disease. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, just lay there moaning, covered in his own filth.

A pitiful, young boy.

Count Huber had ordered them to find out his connection with the man who attacked the merchant at Altrang Bridge. But Binaeril was in no state to communicate. The guard had a sinking feeling that soon he might have to deal with a corpse.

“Is this some contagious disease or what?”

Anyone could see that Binaeril was not in a normal state. After a few days, the guards started avoiding his cell. Binaeril continued his lonely struggle, completely ignored by everyone.

The symptoms were familiar. Similar to what he had experienced during the monster-hunting practice at Elfenbine when he first fed a magic stone to Veritas. His whole body burned with fever, whispers gnawed at his mind, and overwhelming anger and destruction consumed him. He huddled, shivering, enduring the cold despite his burning body.

His eyes were sunken, dark circles prominent, his stomach caved in from hunger. His hands trembled, and his untreated right hand was a mess of blood and pus. The stench of unwashed filth and the constant groans made him someone no one wanted to approach.

In his foggy awareness, Binaeril realized he was being moved. The hard, black stone floor confirmed he was in a new location. But his suffering overshadowed everything else. He hadn’t slept or eaten for days, engaged in a constant battle with the magic stone’s power consuming his mind. Veritas’s unhelpful advice offered no relief.

– If the mana consumes you, your self will be lost forever. Try to hold on, try harder.

‘Just… shut… up…’

– Listen. It’s like a tug-of-war. On one side is you, and on the other is the Hydra’s mana. The stronger side wins. Simple, right? The loser falls into the abyss, never to return.

Was this supposed to be encouragement?

– Are you struggling? In pain? Your brother must have endured this countless times. If you lose here, you don’t deserve to surpass him. Grit your teeth and endure. Time is on your side, right?

Whether time was on his side, Binaeril couldn’t tell. The fever induced by the magic stone was a formless enemy, an unseen tug-of-war. He couldn’t strike the enemy or cast a spell to disable it. All he could do was endure until the pain ceased. He needed patience and self-care. Binaeril curled himself even tighter, trying to weather the internal storm.

Binaeril huddled tighter, trying to dispel the madness and cold that seeped into his bones.

“Is he out of his mind?”

“Yes. He’s been shivering like a sick chicken since the day he was captured. He doesn’t respond when spoken to.”

“And?”

“He mutters strange things, soils himself, and dirties his clothes. The guards are already treating him like a corpse. Should we just leave him?”

“…Are you sure he was with the attacker?”

“Yes. We heard he paid for that man’s room and meals in the village. It seems they were companions.”

“Then why did the attacker leave him behind? Have we caught the attacker?”

“Not yet, sir…”

Count Huber slammed his desk in frustration. “I told you to bring him to me! What are you doing?”

“There is one thing to report, sir.”

“What is it?”

“Among the boy’s belongings was a leather pouch. It appears to be an artifact.”

“Yes. It has the symbol of Elfenbine and is enchanted so that only its owner can touch it. It contains valuables and could be sold for a high price on the black market.”

Count Huber’s anger subsided slightly at the mention of money.

“Can you find a way to break the enchantment?”

“We can look for someone in the black market.”

“Good.”

A smile spread across Count Huber’s face. He no longer cared about the attacker or the captured boy, only the gold that awaited him.

“What should we do with the boy?”

“Leave him. Let him starve or freeze. Just have his body removed when he dies.”

Three figures sat in a circle. One was a man with gray hair, too mature to be called a boy but too youthful to be called a man. Another was a boy with unruly black hair, clearly a youth, smiling mischievously. The third was a formless, pale flame-like presence.

The gray-haired man, Binaeril, knew who they all were: himself, Veritas, and the spirit of the Hydra. Binaeril had taken drastic measures to deal with the pain from the magic stone. He had cast a spell on himself, isolating his senses, pain, and perception of reality, allowing him to have this meeting.

“Listening to you has always led to bad outcomes,” Binaeril said.

-Hey. Let’s be clear. Nothing has truly ended yet.

“You tricked me again, putting me through another test, as you always do.”

-Binaeril. Don’t belittle my advice because of your current suffering. Haven’t you heard, ‘Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet’? Enduring hardship leads to growth.

Binaeril shook his head. There was no reasoning with Veritas. What about the other?

“Hydra. What did you mean by your last words?”

[What are you referring to?]

“You said you were meeting your end at the hands of your sibling. Do you see me as the same species as you?”

[I wasn’t speaking of species. I was speaking of ‘origin’.]

The term “origin” was familiar to Binaeril. He had heard it from Bapaluga of the Rotfallen Fortress. Toin Bapaluga had explained “origin” as the foundational essence of species. But to hear it from the mouth of the monster Hydra?

[Magic and magic stones. They contain the same power,] the Hydra continued.

“I know that. Concentrated imagination. That’s the essence of both powers.”

[Monsters and mages, the two beings who wield the same power, are they not like half-siblings?]

Binaeril turned to Veritas. “Is this true?”

Though they sat at the same round table, the Hydra’s spirit and Veritas couldn’t communicate directly. This was, after all, a creation of Binaeril’s imagination, a construct formed by his magic.

-Isn’t it obvious? Only mages can harness power through magic stones. Why do you think that is?

“Because the roots of both powers are the same? Then why don’t other mages consume magic stones? Is it simply because it’s dangerous?”

-They don’t know. They don’t understand the essence of magic, monsters, mana, and magic stones. But you do, because I’ve shown you.

“What is the essence of magic?”

What is magic? This question had persisted since the first day Binaeril encountered Veritas in Elfenbine’s grand library. What exactly is magic?

For the first time, Veritas responded—although it was, strictly speaking, the consciousness of Veritas that Binaeril had constructed.

-Magic is the power to turn imagination into reality. It is tyranny. This power is fundamentally violent. It is the arrogance and self-centeredness that only your will exists in the world.

“Magic is the denial of others. It is solipsism. It regards only oneself as the protagonist.”

-The power to move the world as you wish. It is a miracle. It is authority.

“It is a self-assertion. A conviction in oneself.”

Veritas’s words began to emerge from Binaeril’s mouth. The two of them, in their exchange, solidified the definition of magic. This discussion was not a conversation; it was self-reflection. The beings at the table were fabrications of Binaeril’s mind, ultimately one and the same. Through this inner dialogue, Binaeril questioned and answered himself.

As Binaeril gained insights within his inner world, subtle changes began to occur in his physical body, huddled in the damp prison cell.

“…What’s going on?”

The guard, who had been dozing off in his chair, was awakened by a light flickering against his eyelids. Light was seeping out from the innermost cell of the prison. It was unusual, as there weren’t many prisoners in the count’s prison, and the innermost cell was supposed to be occupied by the sick inmate whom the guards avoided.

Curious, the guard got up and walked toward the inner cell. It was Binaeril’s cell. As he rounded the corner to check inside, the guard gasped in shock. 

In that moment of surprise, someone struck the back of the guard’s head forcefully.

Binaeril’s consciousness slowly returned from its depths. The familiar smell of the cell, though foul, felt like home after wandering outside for so long. His entire body was drenched in a stench.

However, his body was not filthy. Only the clothes he wore were tattered and dirty. The pain was gone, replaced by a profound sense of exhaustion. Binaeril barely managed to lift his head to look towards the cell door. Someone was approaching him.

‘A guard? Is this still the prison?’

His vision was blurry, making it hard to see the person’s face clearly.

“What’s this, you’re fine?”

The approaching figure seemed surprised at Binaeril’s condition.

“Your hands are clean, and it doesn’t look like the guards have been mistreating you.”

The deep, echoing voice was familiar to Binaeril.

“…Inyakan?”

“Hmm… these clothes are done for. Here, wear this. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Inyakan handed Binaeril his own shirt. Due to the size difference, the shirt that fit Inyakan snugly was quite loose on Binaeril.

“How did you…?”

“What nonsense are you talking?”

“Listen, if a rock is blocking your path, don’t try to break the rock. Just go around it.”

Inyakan was essentially admitting that he had indeed abandoned Binaeril, but only temporarily. He had waited for the right moment to help. Binaeril understood this on some level, but he chose to feign ignorance.

“…What nonsense are you talking?”

“…Let’s get out of here. It’s a prison break.”

Even through his blurred vision, Binaeril could see Inyakan’s grin stretch up to his eyes. It wasn’t the most reassuring sight to wake up to.