Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

Callisto stepped down from the window sill and into Yunnaeril’s room.

“So you’ve returned to stand before me like a ghost,” Yunnaeril remarked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Callisto smirked at the comment. “Wasn’t it you, Commander, who tried to turn me into a ghost?”

“Are you here to take your revenge, then?” Yunnaeril paused his work on Starfall and looked up at the man who had once been his lieutenant. However, if Callisto did not seek revenge, Yunnaeril was willing to let him go peacefully.

Callisto did not answer immediately. Instead, he let the question hang in the air. “I met your brother.”

“Binaeril, you say.” Yunnaeril let out a barely audible sigh. Binaeril, Binaeril… When had his once-irrelevant younger brother become such an influential figure?

“What did he say? Did he tell you to deliver a warning, that he’s coming to kill his brother?”

“Something along those lines.”

“I’ve heard enough warnings to last a lifetime. I understand,” Yunnaeril replied, his tone dismissive.

“Is what Binaeril says true, Commander?” Callisto asked, his voice grave.

Yunnaeril looked up at Callisto from his seat. The moonlight cast a shadow over Callisto’s face, making his expression difficult to read.

“That your mother died because of your mistake, and that you joined the Order alongside her killer? Is that true?”

Yunnaeril chose not to offer any excuses. “It is true.”

“Are you not ashamed?” Callisto’s words carried a sharp rebuke.

“What should I be ashamed of?”

“You committed a sin. Shouldn’t you be ashamed if you haven’t repented for it?” With each word, Callisto’s voice grew louder, more intense.

“Not only did you lay your sin on your brother, but you also caused a tragedy because of it. You took his mother from a boy who was barely more than a child.”

Callisto was seething with anger.

“And now, you’re starting a war because of him? How much must you hate him to do that? This war is nothing more than a way to capture Binaeril, isn’t it?”

It seemed that Callisto, too, had heard the news of the impending war. Given how the entire continent was buzzing with it, only a fool would be unaware.

“Commander, it’s not too late. Abandon everything and return to your brother. Apologize.”

“Apologize!” Callisto’s voice reached a crescendo, but Yunnaeril, irritated, shook his head.

“Have you forgotten who killed Matthias? You are not free from this curse, either. Just as I am guilty, so too is Binaeril for killing the Paladins.”

“Don’t you bear a grudge against Binaeril as well? Why have you returned to me now, acting like this?” Yunnaeril asked, a mix of frustration and confusion in his voice.

“Binaeril…,” Callisto began, his voice trembling, “is pitiable.”

Yunnaeril could hardly believe his ears.

“How can you not pity a boy who lost his mother, was abandoned by his family, and endured endless suffering driven by nothing but the desire for revenge against his brother?”

“Binaeril is pitiable?” 

“Yes, that’s right,” Callisto continued, his voice heavy with sorrow. “That young boy, he’s willing to stake his entire life just to kill someone. It’s not just simple resentment. He wants you, his brother, to atone for your mother’s death.”

“But what will be left after he gets his revenge? What will remain at the end of a war where a brother wages battle to kill his own sibling?” The question was rhetorical; Callisto answered it himself. “Nothing will be left. I don’t want to see that kind of end.”

Callisto drew his sword from his waist. “If you have no intention of giving up everything, of stopping this war and atoning for your sins, then I will stop you myself.”

The tip of Callisto’s sword pointed directly at Yunnaeril. “Commander Yunnaeril, I am ashamed that I once respected you.”

None of Callisto’s words seemed to pierce Yunnaeril’s heart. Yunnaeril decided then to forget everything Callisto had said. He picked up Starfall, the sword he had been sharpening.

“Sir Callisto, do not disguise your personal vendetta with lofty ideals.”

As Yunnaeril stood up, he finally caught a glimpse of Callisto’s expression. His eyes were filled with sadness.

“I’m sorry,” Callisto murmured.

Callisto’s sword moved first.

Meanwhile, Dean Angelo Yulio stood in his office, overlooking the deserted grounds of Elfenbine. The once-bustling academy now resembled a ghost town. Though the Master of the Tower had instructed that no one—student or staff—should be forced to stay, this was beyond what Yulio had expected.

“To think that the unity of Elfenbine was this fragile!” Yulio fumed.

“Please calm down, Dean,” a student said soothingly, offering him a cup of warm tea. The student, who had recently taken on the role of Yulio’s assistant, was trying to comfort him.

“Elfenbine is an educational institution, not a military academy. It’s understandable that the students would want to leave,” the student added.

“I’m not blaming the students. But the professors! Those professors!” Yulio spat, taking a sip of his tea.

“Did you not expect this? I’m actually surprised that so many people have stayed, Dean,” the assistant responded. The student, a newcomer to the academy, was named Vivian Dux. She also served tea to the two guests sitting in the office.

“Ah, thank you,” said one of the guests. “In fact, it’s probably for the best. I would rather have only those who are truly trustworthy remain, rather than fight alongside people who value their lives too much.”

The two guests were Professors Avia Flynn and Pierre Blanchot. Vivian Dux had only recently joined Elfenbine as a student.

“Thank you, Miss Dux. I was foolish to expect that the professors who betrayed the Tower and fled would have even a fraction of the loyalty that you, a first-year student, have shown,” Yulio lamented.

Yulio had no intention of sending students to die in the war. But the professors should have been different.

“Spineless cowards,” he muttered. On the very day that the Master of the Tower had declared war, only a handful of the faculty had remained. Most had left Elfenbine, returning to their homelands, likely hoping to survive the turmoil with the gold they had saved up.

“But Miss Dux, why did you choose to stay as a first-year student? Aren’t you afraid of the war?” Professor Avia asked Vivian.

“The person who is the reason I came to Elfenbine hasn’t left yet,” Vivian replied.

Professor Avia made an “Ohh~” sound in response. “Is it a faculty member? There aren’t many young professors left, you know.”

“I’m still here, you know,” Pierre chimed in from the side.

“But you’re old, Professor,” Vivian teased.

“Do you really think the Order will go to war as the Master of the Tower suggested? With Elfenbine’s forces weakened this much, if the Order is serious about it, it could be dangerous,” Pierre mused.

“People fear the unknown, like magic. I doubt they truly want an all-out war,” one of the other professors responded.

Even among those who remained at Elfenbine, there were few who were truly prepared to risk their lives in battle. Like Pierre, most assumed that the war might not actually come to pass.

“If the Master of the Tower has spoken, then surely war will come,” another professor remarked.

“Then what do we do? Are we all going to die, Professor?” one of the students asked, voice tinged with anxiety.

“It would be difficult to defeat the Order with just the forces we have left at Elfenbine,” the professor admitted.

“Yes, with just our remaining forces,” Vivian echoed, but there was something enigmatic in her tone that drew the attention of all three professors.

“But a single person could change the course of this war,” she added.

“Who are you talking about? The Master of the Tower?” one professor asked, curious.

“The extent of the Master of the Tower’s abilities is indeed unknown, even to the Dean, I suppose,” another added.

“I wasn’t referring to the Master of the Tower,” Vivian said with a sly smile.

“Well, we’ll see soon enough,” she concluded mysteriously.

As the conversation settled, a military force arrived at the entrance of Elfenbine. Panic quickly spread among those who assumed the soldiers belonged to the Order. But as the soldiers drew nearer and the banners they carried came into view, it became clear they were not from the Order.

“Where are they from?” someone asked, scanning the unfamiliar banners for clues to the soldiers’ origin.

“They look like Imperial soldiers, but…” another remarked, puzzled by the absence of the Empire’s insignia.

“It’s a noble house! That’s the crest of House Dux!” someone shouted, recognizing the emblem.

Anyone with even a little knowledge of the Empire was stunned. The House of Dux was the most powerful noble family in the Empire, second only to the Imperial family itself. But what business could they possibly have with Elfenbine?

“They’ve come to invade Elfenbine! The Empire has always been an ally of the Order!” someone else shouted, a declaration that resonated with many and added to the growing confusion.

As the soldiers arrived, a towering man emerged from their ranks. His shiny bald head and the large scar etched over one eye made him a striking figure. The mages were still uncertain whether this was the beginning of a battle, paralyzed by the uncertainty of the situation. The imposing man surveyed the crowd from atop his horse and bellowed, “Where is my daughter?!”

The man was Torben Dux, the Duke of Dux. At his call, Vivian ran forward and threw herself into his arms.

“Oh, my dear girl!” The Duke opened his arms wide and embraced his daughter as she ran to him.

Meanwhile, his soldiers remained fully armed and stood in formation behind him, adding to the bewilderment of the onlookers.

Did he really bring an army just to visit his daughter?

As the commotion grew, more people emerged from within Elfenbine. Among them was Binaeril, who immediately sensed that the Duke’s arrival had something to do with him.

“What brings you all the way here?” Binaeril asked.

“The rumors tickling my ears made it impossible to stay in Vinzburg,” the Duke replied with a grin.

“It’s been a while, Sir Binaeril,” another voice chimed in.

“You saw him last time! But for me, it truly has been a while, Sir Binaeril,” said another.

“Sir Baron! Sir Asdal!” Binaeril recognized the Duke’s knights who had accompanied him.

“They say the winds of war are blowing across the continent.”

“The Order is after you, is that true?” one of the knights asked.

“They seem to be using the deaths of the Paladins as a pretext to come after me,” Binaeril answered.

“Is it true that you killed six of the Twelve Knights?” the Duke asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and awe.

While Binaeril didn’t consider it something to boast about—after all, it involved taking lives—he didn’t deny it.

“It’s not entirely incorrect,” he replied. Strictly speaking, one of the six, Callisto, had survived, but Binaeril didn’t feel the need to clarify that detail.

“Incredible,” one of the knights murmured.

“Did you come to visit Lady Vivian?” Binaeril asked, trying to shift the conversation.

The Duke and his knights exchanged knowing smiles. “Did I bring an army just to see my daughter? Of course not.”

“We came to help you, Binaeril,” the Duke declared, his voice filled with confidence.

Meanwhile, in another part of Elfenbine, Yunnaeril tightened his grip around Callisto’s neck. Callisto’s hands clawed desperately at Yunnaeril’s, but no matter how much he struggled, Yunnaeril’s hold remained unyielding.

“Yun…naeril…!” Callisto choked out, his voice strained.

Yunnaeril looked into Callisto’s eyes and spoke calmly, “Deputy Commander, I never wanted to kill you. Truly.”

“Urgh…!” Callisto gasped, trying to breathe.

“But if I let you go now, you’ll just come back to stop me again. Nothing I say will change that. You’re that kind of person.”

Callisto couldn’t comprehend how Yunnaeril had become so strong. They had always been evenly matched before. Could just one sword, Starfall, have caused such a vast difference in power?

But there was something Callisto didn’t know—Yunnaeril was no longer the same man he once knew.

A gray aura began to rise from Yunnaeril’s body.

“As a knight I once admired, I regret that our story has to end this way. Goodbye, Deputy Commander.”

The gray divine power seeped from Yunnaeril’s arm into Callisto. Callisto felt his mind being consumed by a searing, white-hot pain.

“Guh… ack…!”

Callisto’s body convulsed violently as he suffered, but Yunnaeril did not release his grip until the spasms subsided. Finally, Callisto’s body went limp, as lifeless as a corpse.

When Yunnaeril let go, Callisto stood on his own two feet, but when he lifted his head, his eyes were vacant, devoid of any focus.

—Well done, Yunnaeril,

“This wasn’t what I wanted.”