Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

The first action Inyakan took after letting out a roar was to rip out the wooden seats fastened to the floor with brute force. Everyone in the hall looked at him with eyes full of disbelief. 

“No way, did he tear that out with his strength, like some kind of beast?”

“No way, he’s not crazy enough to throw that at us, right?”

But there was something they didn’t know. Inyakan was closer to the latter choice between a sage and a beast. Moreover, he was indeed a madman. Inyakan threw the torn seat towards the audience.

Binaeril shouted to stop him, but it was no use. Inyakan didn’t stop there; he began ripping out and throwing all the seats he could get his hands on. The seats, which had been firmly fixed with glue, were easily torn out like tufts of cotton and thrown lightly like silver cups. People ducked their heads, praying that nothing solid would fall on them.

“Guards! What are you doing! Stop him!” the host shouted in a frenzy.

Everyone, including those who managed the slaves to be auctioned off from behind the stage, rushed out and ran towards Inyakan, who was rampaging like a bull.

“CPALNOMDRA!!!” Inyakan shouted something incomprehensible as he wreaked havoc.

As a high-stakes auction house, the number and armament of the guards were not as flimsy as those in a gambling den. There were even soldiers who seemed to belong to Count Huber’s private army. Those with spears and swords approached to threaten Inyakan, but it was useless to him, his eyes having turned.

“Call the knights! Summon the knights!”

“Inform the Count!”

One soldier ran out of the auction house to call for reinforcements. At the back, soldiers with short bows were seen nocking arrows. Whatever the reason, they couldn’t just stand by and watch Inyakan become a pincushion.

‘Reveal,’ Binaeril commanded, and the figures of Inyakan, the soldiers, and the fleeing people were imprinted in his mind like a bird’s-eye view.

‘Break,’ Binaeril commanded again, and the bowstrings aimed at Inyakan simultaneously snapped.

Twang!

“What the hell?!”

“What’s happening?”

There were three archers. As if someone had cut them, the three strings snapped simultaneously, causing the archers to panic.

Meanwhile, Inyakan, like an enraged rhino, charged into the soldiers who had their spears and swords at the ready. The soldiers, clutching their weapons, let out bewildered groans as they thrust their weapons. Inyakan didn’t care about the spears and swords piercing his body. Blood flowed from the cuts and stabs, but he continued to advance like a berserker who felt no pain.

“What, what is this guy?!”

The soldiers in the front row involuntarily stepped back. The moment they lost momentum, the fight was over. Inyakan grabbed one of the extended spear shafts and pulled a soldier towards him. With a groan, one soldier was dragged forward. Inyakan swung Sikrun towards the soldier whose upper body was stretched forward. The crescent-shaped scimitar cleanly severed the soldier’s neck. Blood spurted like a fountain, covering Inyakan’s entire body. He supported the falling soldier’s upper body with his hand and then shoved it towards the people.

The soldiers parted in unison at the sight of the blood-spattered corpse flying towards them. Seeing this, Inyakan smiled for the first time.

“You won’t leave here with your head attached.”

“…Monster! He’s a monster!” 

Covered in blood, holding a strangely curved blade, Inyakan slowly approached, looking every bit the demon that had crawled up from hell.

Meanwhile, as the soldiers’ attention focused on Inyakan, the backstage area became increasingly chaotic. The slaves, seizing the opportunity, began helping each other out of their restraints. Unlike the slaves outside, these were young and healthy individuals. Once one managed to unlock their restraints, it wasn’t long before others were freed as well.

The freed slaves searched every nook and cranny backstage for an exit. 

“No exit here, it’s blocked.”

“This way is blocked too.”

“The only way out is through the main entrance.”

“But there are soldiers at the entrance…”

“We can’t just wait here. If we all run, some of us might escape.”

As they pulled back the curtain and emerged into view of the audience, they first locked eyes with the host.

“The slaves are escaping!” the host shouted.

“He’s a monster! This guy is a demon!” 

A soldier, pale with fright, screamed as he looked at the massive figure.

“Who’s causing this commotion?” 

Armed soldiers of the Count’s house burst through the entrance of the auction house. The interior of the auction house was utter chaos.

“Let’s run!” 

The freed slaves scattered in all directions, each heading for the entrance. 

A woman freed a boy’s restraints and gag on stage.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“The slaves are escaping. Stop them!” 

Inyakan, wielding Sikrun, slashed through the necks of the remaining soldiers. The soldiers of the Count’s house, not yet grasping the situation, were busy trying to stop the fleeing slaves. The sounds of dying soldiers and slaves being subdued by the soldiers mixed chaotically.

The freed slave boy limped towards Inyakan, who was slicing through soldiers like a ghost.

“Ugh! This won’t do, kill all the escaping slaves! If they don’t surrender, kill them all!” 

A knight in ornate armor shouted orders to the soldiers.

With that one command, the atmosphere among the struggling slaves and soldiers reversed.

“We won’t run! Please don’t kill us!”

The eyes of the soldiers entering the hall were bloodshot. Some charged at Inyakan, some at the slaves, and some at Binaeril.

Inyakan showed no mercy. With every swing of Sikrun, a head was severed from its body.

Binaeril also cast spells at the soldiers rushing towards him.

“Heat up.” 

The armor of the soldiers attacking Binaeril turned red-hot. The soldiers screamed in agony as their armor burned them. The smell of burning flesh and smoke filled the air.

A soldier charged at Inyakan from behind, aiming a sword at his back. At that moment, Inyakan was in the process of breaking another soldier’s neck.

“KAN VACHTA!”

The boy who had been tied up shouted loudly at the sight before him. He hurled himself at the soldier, and the two fell to the ground in a tangle. An ornate armored knight approached and grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck, pulling him away.

“You insolent slave…!”

The knight’s longsword pierced through the boy’s abdomen, emerging out the other side. The boy vomited dark red blood, contrasting starkly with his pale skin. Binaeril screamed.

Inyakan turned his head to see the blade protruding from the frail boy’s body. The boy’s hollow eyes were fixed on the blood-soaked one-eyed warrior.

“KAN… VACHTA…”

With those words, the boy’s head drooped. Inyakan stood rigid, silent. He threw the corpse he was holding aside and approached the knight. The knight was pulling his sword out of the boy’s body.

The knight’s gaze also turned to Inyakan. He instinctively knew that this man was the cause of the chaos.

“YA KSHTAL. INYA VAISA.”

“…What are you saying?”

Inyakan explained in a language the knight could understand.

“I will tear you apart. In the way of the Inya.”

The knight felt a chilling fear in his eyes. Unconsciously, he swung his longsword. Though it was a reflexive swing, the force behind it was formidable. He was a knight of the Count’s house, trained far beyond the common soldiers.

Despite his fear, the knight’s sword drew a clean arc, poised to cleave Inyakan in two. Inyakan raised his left arm, blocking the sword’s path with his bracer. The knight’s sword struck the bracer, leaving a mark.

The knight had expected to sever at least one of Inyakan’s arms, but the resistance transmitted through the sword was unexpectedly strong. Before the knight could recover his sword, Inyakan acted faster.

The bracer on Inyakan’s left arm had diagonal grooves. Binaeril had always thought these grooves were merely decorative. Inyakan pressed the sword into the grooves of the bracer with his left arm and crossed his right arm, aligning the opposite grooves with the blade. His arms formed an X, trapping the sword within the grooves.

With the blade securely lodged in the grooves, the knight found he couldn’t retrieve his weapon no matter how hard he tried.

“What are you doing?!”

Inyakan twisted his arms up and down, and with a grating noise, the knight’s sword broke under the strain. Disarmed, the knight was left in shock. He had never seen such a maneuver before.

Inyakan picked up the broken blade and thrust it into the knight’s neck. The knight gurgled, blood bubbling from his throat, and he dropped his sword, grasping at Inyakan’s neck. Inyakan didn’t dodge; instead, he pulled the knight closer, their foreheads clashing.

At such close range, Inyakan spat his words at the knight, who was spewing blood.

“Why are you civilized people so vulgar? Why don’t you ever leave us be?”

“Grrr…”

“If killing hundreds or thousands is what it takes to achieve peace, then so be it. Remember me even in hell. I am the Khan of the Inya.”

As Inyakan plunged the blade deeper into the knight’s neck, it made a sound like air escaping a tire.

Inyakan shoved the knight’s face into the ground and looked up. The soldiers, witnessing the brutal end of the knight they trusted, stood frozen, only gauging Inyakan’s movements.

Binaeril ran over and touched Inyakan’s arm. Instinctively, Inyakan swung his arm like a wounded beast, pushing Binaeril away.

“It’s me, Binaeril. Calm down.”

Binaeril grasped Inyakan’s fist, channeling his mana into him to calm him down.

“This time, I’ll handle it.”

Inyakan smirked at Binaeril’s repetition of the line he had once used in the gambling den. Many slaves had already lost their lives, including the pale boy Inyakan had tried to protect.

Apart from the soldiers Inyakan and Binaeril had faced, most of the Count’s soldiers remained unscathed.

“Capture them!” someone shouted.

The soldiers, recognizing the most dangerous enemies, charged at the two.

Binaeril conjured a spell he had never imagined before.

“You will taste the inferno in the realm of frost.”

His eyes, his words, his command, and his mana embodied both winter and summer simultaneously. Amidst the chaotic noise of the hall, Binaeril’s command was clearly heard by the soldiers.

And no one could move. 

The soldiers’ lips began to tremble. An unbearable cold seized them, leaving them unable to move even a finger. Their minds were stripped bare and thrown into the freezing Arctic cold. The terrified slaves did not understand why the soldiers had suddenly frozen in place as if time had stopped. It was an unreal scene, like magic.

As Binaeril froze their minds, the cold took over their bodies. In the unbearable cold, a searing heat began to overwhelm the soldiers. Just as Binaeril had said, they were plunged into a frozen hell while still frozen.

The mental shock was too much for their bodies to withstand. The only things the soldiers could move were their trembling lips, weak breaths, and twitching tongues. They were all experiencing the extremes of human suffering, standing still and dying slowly in excruciating pain without being able to scream.

Binaeril left the immobilized soldiers and climbed onto the stage to retrieve his lost leather pouch. He tied the pouch to his waist and released the terrified slaves.

“It’s over.”

Inyakan was still holding the dead boy’s body. He asked.