Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

Inyakan’s voice boomed loudly, cutting through the cold winds of Barbaroana. Even amid the howling wind, his voice was clearly heard. The gathered warriors, including those from the Cherokee tribe, pounded their chests and struck their knees in response to his call. But a simple chant wasn’t enough.

“We’ll need some help,” Priya said as she took a draw from a cheap pipe she had found in the Margrave’s castle, exhaling a plume of smoke. The smoke, mingling with the snowstorm, began to take on the shape of a monster.

Binaeril noticed her intent and diverted Inyakan’s attention.

Inyakan’s eyes widened in surprise. The other barbaroi were also thrown into confusion by the sudden appearance of the creature. All eyes naturally turned to one place.

The Khan of Khans. The warrior of warriors.

To Inyakan.

Binaeril, using magic to ensure only Inyakan could hear him, whispered, “It’s an illusion, Inyakan. Just continue the chant.”

Inyakan quickly understood Binaeril’s words and began banging his bracer loudly.

“Proud warriors! Shout after me!”

*Shriek!*

The snow serpent emitted a bizarre wail.

Inyakan, determined not to be outdone, roared, and the warriors’ combined voices echoed across the surroundings, shaking the air.

Binaeril felt a strong vibration emanating from the *Veritas* in his hand.

‘This…!’

It was clear.

The resonance of the power contained within the fragment.

With a face filled with both awe and excitement, Binaeril looked at Priya. Priya, who had also sensed the fragment’s power, met his gaze.

“Binaeril, can you feel it?”

***

In a small chapel within the Holy Kingdom of Vitory…

“…I see. So it’s true.”

The sword embedded in the ground held a beauty not of this world.

Yunnaeril Dalheim leaned against the starfall blade, murmuring to himself. To the onlooking believers, it appeared as if he were offering a devout prayer, but the truth was far different.

“Binaeril… has the power of Inya. Then, the fragment of Inya I absorbed back then must also be…”

Yunnaeril was conversing with the starfall blade.

“So, the time we’ve been waiting for is nearly upon us,” he muttered, his voice inaudible to anyone else, before rising to his feet.

He sheathed the starfall blade and exited the chapel.

The main entrance of the cathedral was bustling with activity.

Seeing the soldiers gathering, it was clear that another pursuit team was about to be dispatched to track down a wanted criminal. Among the gathered faces, Yunnaeril recognized several familiar ones—Paladin Lucio, Paladin Sixto, and Paladin Gregory. There were three of the Church’s proud paladins present, and leading them was none other than Paladin Antero.

The four paladins, having lined up the soldiers, were fully armed as if they were ready to depart at any moment. Yunnaeril approached them.

“What is going on here, Sir Antero?”

“Commander.”

Antero did not dismount his horse even as Yunnaeril approached, looking down at him. The hierarchy among the paladins was strict, and Antero’s current attitude was enough to be considered insubordination.

“I asked, what is going on here, Sir Antero?”

“Can’t you see? We’re preparing for a sortie.”

“A sortie? You have no authority to summon other paladins.”

That authority was reserved solely for Yunnaeril, the commander, and the now-absent vice-commander, Callisto.

“This has nothing to do with you, Commander. You should continue on your way.”

“…What did you say?”

Antero openly sneered at Yunnaeril, blatantly ignoring him. Yet none of the others present intervened.

“Well, this is bothersome,” Antero said as he dismounted and approached Yunnaeril. He leaned in close, whispering into Yunnaeril’s ear.

“It’s by order of Cardinal Cristopho.”

“Cardinal Cristopho?” Yunnaeril asked, the mockery on Antero’s face becoming even more pronounced.

“News seems to travel slowly, Commander Yunnaeril. It’s been discovered that you made a false report to His Eminence the Cardinal.”

Yunnaeril looked him directly in the eye and said, “Can you take responsibility for what you’ve just said?”

Antero shrugged nonchalantly. “Do you think I’d be foolish enough to invoke His Eminence’s name without backing?”

Even if it was on the Cardinal’s orders, this was still an overreach. The authority to summon the twelve paladins of the Church was strictly the prerogative of the commander. No matter how powerful Cardinal Cristopho might be, he had no right to overstep the commander’s authority.

“It seems I need to go speak with the Cardinal,” Yunnaeril said, moving to leave, but Antero pushed him back by the shoulder.

The soldiers watching them inhaled sharply, holding their breath as the tension escalated.

Touching Commander Yunnaeril was an act of sacrilege that would have been unimaginable under normal circumstances.

“The Commander cannot see His Eminence the Cardinal,” Antero said.

“…You’re not even bothering to show respect anymore?”

“What do I have to fear?”

“It seems you think I gained the title of Commander by luck,” Yunnaeril shot him a cold glare.

Antero felt a sting from those words but masked it as he slowly drew his weapon.

“Sir Antero, you must be out of your mind.”

“I didn’t want to resort to this, out of respect for your former status. But your time is up, ‘former’ Commander,” Antero said, pointing his sword toward the ground.

“It wasn’t some barbarian that killed Paladin Matthias and Vice-Commander Callisto. Matthias, maybe—but Sir Callisto wasn’t someone who could be taken down by just any clumsy knight.”

“And what do you know about it?” Yunnaeril asked, his voice icy.

“I’ve always hated that proud look in your eyes. Arrogant, conceited—those eyes of yours, Yunnaeril Dalheim. It wasn’t the barbaroi who killed our comrades; it was a mage.”

Yunnaeril was shocked inside but did not let it show.

‘Has the Cardinal already figured this much out?’

“The mage’s name is Binaeril ‘Dalheim,’ your very own brother. Do I need to explain further?”

“He’s no relation to me.”

“Ha. Is there anyone else with the rustic name ‘Dalheim’ besides your family?”

“I cut ties with that family long ago.”

“Sure, that’s what you’ll say. But His Eminence the Cardinal thinks differently.”

“Paladin Matthias was indeed killed by Binaeril Dalheim, the mage. But what about the Vice-Commander?” Yunnaeril still hadn’t drawn his sword, keeping his gaze locked on Antero.

“The Vice-Commander wouldn’t have fallen to some novice mage. He was ambushed on his way back. But here’s the strange part.”

The other paladins present were now looking at Yunnaeril with suspicion.

“When the Vice-Commander was returning to the Order, he had only one companion. That was you, Yunnaeril.”

Antero lifted the tip of his sword, pointing it directly at Yunnaeril.

“So, it seems the brothers killed two of our comrades. Do you have anything left to say in your defense?”

Yunnaeril considered his options. He had always known that the Cardinal didn’t trust him and had spies watching his every move, but he hadn’t expected their information to be this accurate.

‘Should I resist?’ 

There were four paladins, including Antero, but if Yunnaeril decided to escape, it wouldn’t be a problem. At the very least, he could demonstrate that his reputation as the first knight of the Order was not just for show.

Just as he was about to reach for the hilt of the *Starfall* sword, his eyes met those of one of the soldiers.

‘Who is that?’

The man was one of the Cardinal’s closest confidants, a shadow who carried out all sorts of dirty work—spying, assassinations, and more. His presence here signified that the Cardinal was now seriously moving to check Yunnaeril.

Yunnaeril sighed and raised his hands in surrender. It was time to step back, for now.

Antero, wearing a smug expression, sheathed his weapon.

“Arrest the traitor Yunnaeril Dalheim. Do not release him until we receive orders from His Eminence the Cardinal.”

The soldiers approached, seized the *Starfall* sword, and bound Yunnaeril. Antero drew the *Starfall* and marveled at its beauty.

“The holy sword *Starfall*… Finally, it’s in my hands!”

Meanwhile, a fierce storm of mana, comparable to the cutting winds of Barbaroana, surged for a brief moment. But just as quickly as it appeared, the energy vanished without a trace.

Inyakan, unaware of the situation, continued to lead the barbaroi in their chants. They waited, but it became clear that nothing else was going to happen.

“Inyakan, I think we can stop now,” Binaeril said, signaling to end the ritual.

“What just happened?” Priya asked, sensing that something had gone wrong. Though she didn’t feel it as clearly as Binaeril did, she knew something was off.

“It feels like something almost happened but didn’t,” Binaeril replied.

Inyakan, whose face was flushed from exertion, approached them.

The illusion of the monster that Priya had conjured had already vanished.

“So, did it work?” Inyakan asked.

“We’re not sure. It feels like the power we were seeking almost awakened, but it didn’t fully manifest.”

“You could sense the power, though?” Inyakan pressed.

“Yes, but it didn’t materialize in a concrete way,” Binaeril confirmed.

“Then at least we’re on the right track,” Inyakan concluded.

The three of them put their heads together, trying to figure out what went wrong. However, no clear solution emerged.

“Maybe we need to be more desperate?”

“How much harder do you want me to try?” 

“No, I mean, when I saw it before, it felt much more intense,” 

“In the name of Inya, I gave it my all.”

“It’s not your fault, Inyakan.”

If it wasn’t Inyakan’s fault, then only one possibility remained.

Binaeril summoned the *Veritas*.

“What’s the problem? You must have felt it too—the power of the fragment resonating in Inya’s Word Spirit.”

*Veritas* seemed to ponder the question before responding after a brief pause.

– It’s probably an issue with the participants.

Binaeril had the same thought.

“It seems it can’t be done with just anyone,” he said.

Priya sighed, as if she had expected this.

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?” Inyakan was the only one who didn’t understand their conversation.

“Inya’s Word Spirit is tied to the bloodline. It’s a power awakened by the call of your ancestors, Inyakan.”

“It seems that if they aren’t of the Inya tribe, the mana doesn’t resonate strongly enough.”

“Then what are we supposed to do? The Inya tribe is already…”

…all gone.

Binaeril knew this as well.

‘Then what should we do…?’

– There is a way,

Veritas spoke up again.

“A way?”

– Prepare a memorial rite for the dead.

‘A memorial rite?’

– If Inya’s power comes from the ancestors, then it means their souls hold a great deal of strength. Strong souls always leave traces.

‘You’re saying we can summon the souls of Inya? With magic?’

– Not just summon them. You can even have them chant the Word Spirit again.

‘How do we do that?’

– First, you’ll need to meet the souls of the deceased tribesmen.”

Before Binaeril could ask how, he already had a sinking feeling. 

The next words from *Veritas* confirmed his worst suspicions.

– You must return to the Inya village.”