Trinity of Magic [Progression Fantasy]

Zeke's mind raced. He recognized this exact setup, having used it himself once.

The Ritual was comprised of two overlapping circles, with the group of slaves positioned in the larger one while the smaller one awaited the person set to receive their contracts. In contrast to the version Zeke was familiar with, this Ritual appeared to be designed for a mass transfer of contracts.

The longer Zeke examined his current situation, the calmer he became. "Are we in trouble, Akasha?"

Zeke immediately relaxed upon hearing Akasha’s reassurance. “The Slave Mark?”

Zeke glanced toward Ishaan, who casually leaned against a pillar near the second entrance. He didn't appear to be anticipating the arrival of whoever was about to show up anytime soon.

"Go ahead," Zeke said.

Zeke nodded. He had long since suspected that the collars were more a symbol than an actual deterrent. They were most likely developed to reassure the Masters and make them feel like they were in control. Sure, the Lightning Magic the collars could inflict on its wearer was an obstacle to weaker slaves, but for people at Vulcanos’ or Gravitas’ level, it was more of an inconvenience than an actual threat.

However, from an engineering perspective, the collars were quite interesting. Whoever designed them had somehow found a way to detect when the wearer tried to go against their oath. This might be something worth studying.

This was quite an insidious scheme, making Zeke wonder how many slaves truly understood that they could never escape once they accepted the Ritual. To be bound by a chain was one thing, but to offer up one’s Soul was something completely different. Most likely, people would be far more reluctant to accept those conditions if they knew the truth.

Not that Zeke was going to tell them.

He had long since learned that a man had to pick his battles, and spreading the truth about the Slave Ritual was the same as challenging the established powers of Korrovan. It was exactly this type of reckless behavior that led to Maximilian’s death back in the empire, as well as his own exile. In his current position, he could not afford to offend even more people.

“What else?”

“What does that mean exactly?” Zeke asked.

Zeke couldn't help but feel impressed. There was no more effective method of control than having individuals monitor and govern themselves. After all, who else could be aware of all your thoughts?

There was no way to deceive the oath; any attempt to do so would be considered a betrayal. The only means of breaking free from such a commitment was either through accidental circumstances or with assistance from an external source.

The Ritual was as nasty as it was brilliant.

This line of thought brought a new question to his mind. “Do you know of a way to remove the Slave Mark?” However, this time, Akasha didn’t immediately reply, which was rather strange for her.

Zeke frowned as his thoughts turned to the last time he had dabbled in Soul Magic. In that instance, he had unintentionally caused the death of his subject in the most gruesome manner. With Akasha by his side now, he might handle it more proficiently, but he still regarded the matter with great seriousness. At least, using it on people he cared about was currently out of the question.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming from the second entrance. Ishaan, who had been completely relaxed just a moment ago, stood ramrod straight all of a sudden. Slowly, everyone's attention focused on the source of the noise. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the hefty wooden gate creaked open, and a figure entered the hall.

The person who appeared was a short, middle-aged man with almost no hair left on his head, holding a lit cigar in his free hand. He wore what looked like a loosely tied bathrobe, completely made of red silk. His face was noticeably red, but Zeke couldn't figure out if it was from working out, drinking, or some other form of pastime.

For a long while, the man remained standing in the doorway, eyeing the group of slaves in silence. Despite his diminutive stature and rather mediocre appearance, he projected an aura of power and confidence. This was even more pronounced for Zeke, who had extra senses compared to the Chimeroi. He was absolutely certain that this man was an Archmage.

“Is this all of them?” he demanded to know in a voice so loud it seemed incongruous with his diminutive stature.

“Yes, sir,” Ishaan answered respectfully, leaving no doubt as to the identity of this newcomer.

Hearing his reply, the short man frowned deeply. “Didn’t my brother promise to send more of them as compensation for the upcoming attack?”

Ishaan nodded hastily. “Your brother sends his apologies, but it couldn’t be helped. Apparently, his youngest son has gotten two of his elite subordinates killed recently, and he needs to replenish his numbers somehow.”

Instead of getting angry, the bald man chuckled. “That’s just what that idiot gets for having children. Ain’t that the truth?”

“Indeed, sir,” Ishaan agreed, “you are absolutely right.”

Zeke was disgusted to see the usually domineering Ishaan grovel so pathetically. Where was all the bravado he showed when dealing with the slaves? His opinion of the man would have sunken even lower had it been possible.

“Enough,” the bald man said after listening to Ishaan’s flattery for a while. “This means that you have to be more careful this time. Do you understand me, Ishaan?”

“How careful do you mean, sir?” Ishaan asked carefully.

“At least half of them need to make it through.”

“Sir, this—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” the man yelled, his voice echoing off the walls of the hall. “Will you do it, or do I find somebody else?”

“…I will do it, sir,” Ishaan said in a defeated tone.

“Excellent,” the balding man praised, his earlier outburst already forgotten. “I knew I could count on you. Come now, let’s get the Ritual started.”

With a single bound, the Archmage materialized in the circle opposite the slaves. His steps appeared both leisurely and lightning-fast at the same time. Yet, nobody, not even Zeke, could follow his movements with their eyes.

Once again, he was reminded of the unbridgeable gap between the people who had reached the realm of Archmage and those who hadn’t. This was rather unfortunate, as he needed to find a way to incapacitate exactly such an opponent — and soon.

Moments later, Ishaan was instructing the slaves on what they were supposed to do. As their current Master, they could only consent to a transfer with his explicit permission. Zeke was only listening with half an ear as he was thinking of ways he might be able to contend with an Archmage.

Zeke immediately perked up. “Explain.”

Zeke fell into deep thought. The Archmage opposite him had a Fire Affinity, the same as his brother, making it highly unlikely that he knew the first thing about Soul Magic. If that was so, then this was indeed a chance he might be able to exploit.

“Do you have a plan?” Zeke asked cautiously. He wasn’t too keen on continuing his experiments on the Soul, least of all in such a risky situation.

Zeke nodded. This sounded rather good. He really didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks at the moment. However, if he didn’t find any other way, he would still have a plan to fall back on. His decision came just in time, as the Ritual circle started to glow.

In unison, the slaves started to rattle off the set of words Ishaan had taught them earlier. Zeke followed suit, or at least his body did. Meanwhile, he was already diving into his Soul Sight.

The scene changed dramatically when witnessed with the Soul. Dozens of ethereal tendrils extended from all around Zeke and gathered at a singular point somewhere to his right. This had to be where Ishaan was standing. Suddenly, a bright spot emerged where he remembered the Archmage to be.

One at a time, the tendrils detached from Ishaan and snapped in place at this glowing spot. This had to be the opening Akasha had talked about.

Zeke didn’t waste any more time and extended a thin tendril of his own. He tried to mimic the marks all around him as he gingerly advanced toward the glowing dot that seemed to consume everything like an unsatiable crack in the void. The moment he got close, the end of his tendril attached itself to the glowing spot.

To his utter surprise, nothing else happened. There was no exchange of information, no compulsion to obey, nothing. The result was almost disappointing in its simplicity. It was to the point where Zeke began to wonder if he had screwed up somehow. Yet, Akasha reassured him that he had done his job flawlessly.

Wasn’t this… a bit too easy?

The moment the Ritual ended, the spot of light disappeared. Nevertheless, Zeke distinctively noticed how a tiny part of his fake Slave Mark remained visible to his Soul Sight. He had actually done it! He had created an opening in the man’s mental defenses, ready to be exploited at any time.

The ease with which he had overcome a Mage several times more powerful than himself highlighted the true potency of Soul Magic. Of course, much of his success stemmed from the fact that almost nobody seemed to be aware of its dangers. If the man had been on guard, he could have most likely fought Zeke off without much effort.

When Zeke returned to his body, he was just in time to see Ishaan staring at the slaves with a menacing look in his eyes. “Now, it’s time to find out if any of you maggots tried to trick us,” he said with a sadistic glint in his eyes.