Path of the Extra

Mana Contract.

A Mana Contract is a binding agreement made by a mana user, tying a fragment of their essence directly to their mana core. In exchange for fulfilling certain conditions, the user gains a significant boost in power. The mana core, located near the heart, serves as the central source of their energy and is intricately linked to their life force. Any violation of the contract's terms carries dire consequences, often affecting the user's mana, health, or even their life.

Mana Contracts remain an enigma to the world, their existence deliberately kept secret by the Four Great Kings and the Sovereigns. Apart from these rulers and a handful of apostles or select others, no one should possess knowledge of Mana Contracts—or the method to forge one.

Unless…

That individual had stumbled upon a certain book in another world and spent a year secretly mastering the art of forming such a contract.

The revelation of Mana Contracts to the wider world could change everything. Entire grades within each rank could be rendered meaningless.

The binding of one's essence empowers the mana core, amplifying its capacity. For instance, a user could gain an explosive increase in power by agreeing to severe limitations on their abilities or a steep price. The harsher the restriction, the greater the potential power unlocked.

But violating the contract's terms unleashes devastating repercussions. The mana core may react violently, causing intense pain, debilitating weakness, or, in some cases, partial sealing of the core itself. This leaves the user unable to access their powers, sometimes permanently.

A damaged core is a death sentence for most. It erodes the user's ability to harness mana and, if left untreated, can lead to a slow and excruciating demise.

While the strength of the core determines the user's power, overextending or recklessly exhausting it hastens its decay. Once decayed beyond repair, the user is left as a hollow shell of their former self—or worse, fatally wounded by the core's implosion.

Regardless of the terms, a Mana Contract always demands payment. The price can be high, and the consequences of breaking it are severe:

Soul Destruction.

Physical Decay.

Mental Collapse.

It is theorized that the mana core and the soul are intricately connected. The mana core functions as a gateway to a person's soul. Removing the mana core disrupts the delicate network of mana veins coursing through the body. For awakened or dormant users, this renders the mana veins useless. For intermediates or higher, whose soul veins have formed, the effects are equally catastrophic.

When the mana core of a void creature or human is extracted, it often appears radiant at first, its essence intact. Consuming this core gradually dims its light, as if draining its soul essence. Over time, the core becomes dull, lifeless, and ultimately useless.

The act of consuming a mana core is believed to involve devouring the very essence of the soul itself—an act that is taboo when it comes to humans. This practice, shrouded in fear and superstition, is forbidden for a reason.

The forbidden knowledge of Mana Contracts carries with it both temptation and peril. To forge such a pact, one must be willing to pay the ultimate price—and accept the consequences, no matter how devastating they may be.

To form a Mana Contract, one must fulfill only one of the following conditions:

Emotional Overload. One must be overwhelmed by an emotion so powerful—grief, rage, desperation, or another—so consuming that it takes over entirely. Only when their emotional state reaches this extreme can the mana core respond to form the contract. However, be warned: Emotional Overload has a 90% chance of failure.

Sacrifice of a Life. One must sacrifice a life—either their own or another's—to form the contract. This requires giving up a significant part of themselves, a piece of their very essence. But, like the first, the Sacrifice of a Life also carries a 90% chance of failure.

Complete Isolation from Mana. In this case, the individual agrees to sacrifice their mana core entirely. If they survive, they will be left without the ability to use mana for the rest of their lives. But as with the others, Complete Isolation from Mana has a 90% chance of failure.

And then there is another. One that only Azriel Crimson is aware of at this very moment in the world…

Binding to One of the Ten Gods. In this pact, one agrees to give up everything: their life, body, mind, soul, their very self. They would surrender their name, their personality, their identity—everything—to one of the Ten Gods who might answer the Mana Contract. Choosing which god answers is not an option. Choosing what happens after is not an option. The price is everything. But even this has its odds—99.99% chance of failure.

If anyone were ever to find out about this final option, Azriel knew that the world itself might just end. Not in some grand, dramatic clash—but in a way that would leave him wishing it had never begun.

*****

Arthur's eyes widened in shock as he stared at Azriel.

'H-how…? How does he know about a mana contract!?'

This was knowledge no one—no one—should possess.

The only reason Arthur himself was burdened with such accursed information was because of the Supreme Archon.

Mana contracts.

The very thought of them made his skin crawl. They were volatile, dangerous—so dangerous that even Arthur wouldn't dare touch one unless absolutely necessary. A gamble with stakes so high, they almost always ended in disaster.

There was no silver lining, no triumph, only a fleeting taste of power before an inevitable descent into ruin. Success or failure didn't matter; the end result was nearly always the same.

Death.

Arthur steadied himself, forcing his expression to remain calm. But his composure cracked as he focused on those eyes peeking out from Azriel's long, disheveled hair.

Eyes filled with madness, hatred, and... sorrow.

'He could already attempt to form a mana contract... with the first condition.'

Arthur clenched his fists. Emotional overload. The boy in front of him had already been consumed by his feelings.

And it was Arthur's fault.

He exhaled sharply, his thoughts racing.

'First, I need to find the Voidwalker blood... Vincent is injured above, undoubtedly struggling to hold back the void creatures that will be drawn here because of this chaos.'

He cast a brief glance at Subject 431, who stood confused but obediently out of sight. No time to deal with him now.

Arthur's voice was steady as he spoke, his expression carefully neutral.

"Despite somehow acquiring knowledge of mana contracts, this changes nothing, Subject 666. Tell me where the blood is, and I will overlook this rebellion of yours. Your punishment will amount to no more than a few years of disciplinary action."

A lifeline. Mercy. Far better than the death that awaited otherwise.

Arthur allowed himself a moment of consideration. Even if Azriel somehow managed to form a mana contract—despite the abysmal 10% chance of success with just one condition—it wouldn't make a difference.

The cost would be staggering. The boy would have to gamble everything, sacrificing even his life to fully unlock his potential. And "potential" was a finite thing—limited by the mana he could absorb from the air and the rank it might grant him.

Sure, Azriel was talented, but Arthur didn't believe for a second that it was the kind of talent capable of elevating him to a grandmaster level by simply breathing in mana.

No. There was a gap too wide to cross.

Azriel, however, didn't flinch. His expression remained calm, unshaken, as he met Arthur's gaze.

"The Voidwalker blood?" His voice was unnervingly even. "Sure. Just look over there..."

Arthur's eyes followed Azriel's finger to the cracked floor, where shards of ice glistened faintly.

His jaw tightened.

His aura began to seep out, swirling ominously around him as his fury ignited.

"You… you fool!" Arthur's voice rose, trembling with barely contained rage.

"Do you have any idea what you've done!? You'll wish for death now, 666!"

Azriel's smile faded as he locked eyes with Arthur, unflinching.

"My name is Azriel Crimson. Prince Azriel Crimson, the only son of Joaquin and Aeliana Crimson. Not Subject 666."

Arthur froze.

His mask of authority cracked, his jaw slack with shock as he stared at Azriel.

'...So he remembers...'

Arthur's rage simmered, his emotions cooling instantly as logic reasserted itself.

"You are 666," he said coldly.

"Not Azriel Crimson anymore. But perhaps…" Arthur's lips curled into a smirk.

"Perhaps you're right. That name still holds some value. I wonder just how much the Crimson Clan truly cares for you, 666."

Azriel's amusement only grew.

"It's funny how you think you're getting out of this alive. The both of you. If I were fighting to survive, things might have been different. I wouldn't have bothered with you or Project Eden. But now…"

He stepped forward.

"Now, I'm fighting to die. And if I'm going to die, it will be a death worth dying for. One so satisfying that Death itself will knock on my door and beg to take me."

Arthur and War both narrowed their eyes, their gazes locked on the madman before them.

"What gives you such confidence? Do you understand what you're gambling? Forming a mana contract with just one condition has a 10% chance of success. If you're insane enough to attempt all conditions, that chance drops to a mere 0.1%. Do you honestly believe that such an impossible feat would let a mere intermediate like you rival a grandmaster?"

It was absurd. No one to his knowledge had ever succeeded with a mana contract, let alone on such a scale.

But Azriel's response was a smile.

A smile so unnerving, it made Arthur's heart skip a beat.

"You're wrong, Doctor. There's another condition. One that drops the chance even further—to 0.00001%. But in return, it makes everything else… irrelevant. A one-way ticket. If it succeeds, nothing else matters."

Arthur's composure wavered.

"What are you talking about?" he snapped.

"Stop spouting nonsense!"

Azriel's grin widened, his voice dark and mocking.

"I'm a gambler, doctor. Always have been. I love gambling my life, my plans, my everything. And right now, I'm gambling on the fourth condition."

This was lunacy—pure lunacy. And yet Azriel continued, undeterred.

"It got me thinking. If this world—this life—is real, as I've come to accept, then something brought me here. Something powerful enough to pull strings across worlds. To manipulate fate itself. So I asked myself... what could possibly be strong enough to do that?"
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"And only one answer comes to mind..."

His crimson eyes bore into Arthur's soul.

"Gods."

Arthur's blood ran cold.

"...What?"

Azriel didn't stop. He stepped closer.

"The gods, doctor. They're the only ones capable of pulling off something of this scale. Do you think mortals can rip people from their worlds and throw them into this madness? No. Only gods have that power. And I'm betting that one of them is watching me now. That one of them is... interested in me."

Azriel's tone grew colder.

"And if they're not? Then I die here. Simple as that. But I'm gambling, doctor. Gambling on the idea that one of those very gods is interested in me."

"...."

"I wonder which one will answer."

"...."

Arthur could have stopped him.

He could have ended it all in seconds, snuffed out the madness before it took shape, and been done with it.

But he didn't.

Something in him—curiosity, or perhaps arrogance—stayed his hand. Arthur was a seeker of knowledge, and listening to Azriel's words, no matter how unhinged, compelled him to hold back. It was in his nature to observe, to analyze, to understand.

And perhaps that was his greatest mistake.

Because now...

It was already too late.

Too late when Azriel Crimson brought his right hand forward. His expression devoid of fear, of doubt. His right hand, trembling with red lightning, began to glow. Slowly, the lightning twisted and coiled, forming into the shape of a claw.

Then, without hesitation, Azriel plunged it into his own beating heart.