Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

As the Book of Truth opened, Binaeril’s entire body became enveloped in a radiant aura. The Barbaroi, who had been mesmerized by the fiery storm, were now startled and bewildered by the sudden appearance of this light. Some even fell backward in shock.

Inyakan, staring at Binaeril, who was now consumed by the light, muttered to himself, “What is happening?”

Veritas had immediately pulled Binaeril’s consciousness into its own realm. When Binaeril opened his eyes, he realized he was in a familiar place—the secret corridor of Veritas.

“What’s going on? Why did you bring me here?” Binaeril asked.

“Why? You asked for it,” Veritas replied.

“When did I ask for this?”

Veritas’s dark eyes fixed on Binaeril’s face. “The ritual. You said you wanted to perform it.”

“You said you would handle it yourself,” Binaeril retorted.

“I’m providing the connection. The convincing part is up to you.”

Once again, the situation had shifted. “You said you’d take care of everything. Now you’re changing your tune?”

“Listen to this one! Were you just going to sit back and take all the credit?”

At the lowest level of the secret corridor, the floor was glowing, reminiscent of the time Binaeril had been drawn into the memories of Barbaroana’s past. But instead of an endless snowy plain, what lay beyond now was a swirling, opaque green space.

“What’s beyond this?” Binaeril asked.

“The ones you’ve been searching for.”

“The ones I’ve been searching for?”

“The spirits of the deceased Inya tribe.”

Binaeril swallowed hard as he looked down at the floor. His previous experience made him hesitant to take the next step.

“What are you waiting for? Are you going to stare at it all night?”

“Alright, alright!” Binaeril, steeling himself, closed his eyes tightly, pinched his nose with one hand, and jumped in.

Outside, Inyakan approached the glowing light with concern for Binaeril, but Priya stepped in to stop him.

“Don’t go any closer.”

“What’s happening?” Inyakan demanded.

“Binaeril will handle it. Just wait.”

“The voices I was hearing—now I can’t hear them. Is Binaeril talking to them?”

“Probably.”

“They’re my family. They won’t listen to anyone but me.”

“I know. That’s why you need to wait,” Priya insisted, biting her lower lip as she kept her eyes on Binaeril.

“If he needs you, he’ll call for you first.”

This time, Binaeril didn’t plummet endlessly until he crashed into a snowy plain. Instead, he felt the air around him thicken, as if it were clinging to him like a viscous liquid.

—*What are you doing? You fool, open your eyes. And stop covering your nose.*

Binaeril cautiously opened his eyes. Right in front of his face was a pale, greenish figure peering closely at him.

[*Who are you?!*]

[*A civilized one!*]

[*It’s the first time I’ve seen a living person cross over to this side…*]

The figure wasn’t alone. Numerous other greenish figures surrounded Binaeril, their gazes fixed on him. These figures had indistinct forms, like a tangled mass of threads, and they were all connected by green strands to a single person.

Upon closer inspection, Binaeril realized they weren’t surrounding him but rather encircling Inyakan. The black-and-white world he was in seemed to represent reality, while the greenish world was the realm of the spirits.

“So, are you the Inya tribe?” Binaeril asked.

[*How does a civilized one know about the Inya?*]

[*This one fought alongside our Khan.*]

[*He must be one of Khan’s subordinates.*]

[*Our Khan interacts with a civilized one?*]

[*What choice does he have? We’re no longer by his side.*]

From their conversation, it was clear that these were indeed the spirits of the Inya tribe.

“I’m a companion of Inyakan. He’s been looking for you. He needs your help,” Binaeril said.

The murmuring voices immediately fell silent, and then laughter erupted.

[*Hahaha!*]

[*The Khan’s companion! A little civilized one claiming to be Khan’s companion?*]

[*Don’t be ridiculous, kid. Only the greatest warriors can stand shoulder to shoulder with the Khan.*]

[*Listen well, little civilized one,*] the spirit who had first approached Binaeril warned him. 

[*Never insult our Khan like that again.*]

Binaeril realized he had made a mistake. To these spirits, Inyakan was more than just a leader; he was their revered figure, someone they would protect even in death. Communicating with the Inya tribe was proving just as difficult as it had been with the other Barbaroi tribes, who were already hard to reason with. The Inya, being even more insular, were not going to be easy to deal with.

“I’m sorry, I misspoke. I’m actually someone hired by Inyakan to help find you,” Binaeril said quickly.

[*Our Khan wouldn’t have any money for that,*] one of the spirits remarked.

[*And it’s hard to believe our Khan would hire a scrawny kid like you,*] another added skeptically.

[*It sounds like a lie,*] they murmured among themselves.

“I’m a mage,” Binaeril explained. “Inyakan couldn’t find you on his own, so he hired me to use my magic.”

[*But our Khan doesn’t have the kind of money that civilized people use,*] a spirit pointed out, still fixated on the idea of payment.

Binaeril found their obsession with money strange for spirits. “The truth is, I respect Inyakan so much that I’m helping him for free,” he said, immediately regretting the words as they left his mouth. He realized that changing his story so quickly might make them distrust him even more.

[*That’s…*] The spirits seemed taken aback.

‘Damn, I’ve messed up again,’ Binaeril thought.

[*That actually sounds reasonable,*] one spirit conceded.

[*Following our Khan out of respect? For a civilized person, you’ve got a good eye,*] another added, surprisingly accepting of his explanation.

Binaeril felt a wave of relief. These spirits were as simple-minded as Inyakan himself. “Exactly. So please, help me help him.”

[*What do you need us to do? As you can see, we’re all stuck in this state,*] one of the spirits asked.

“I need you to sing with Inyakan,” Binaeril explained.

[*Sing?*]

“The Inya’s song.”

[*Why would that be necessary?*]

Binaeril found himself at a loss for words. He couldn’t exactly explain the deeper meanings and prophecies involving fragments and falling stars—those were matters tied to his own fate, not theirs.

[*Even if we speak, our Khan won’t hear us,*] a spirit lamented.

[*Even if we stay by his side, he can’t see us,*] another added.

[*No matter how much he misses us, we can never meet him again,*] the spirits echoed. Between the living and the dead was an insurmountable divide, a vast and deep river that couldn’t be crossed.

[*The only reason we linger is because of regrets… But how can you, a civilized child, know that my father still longs to hear the battle cries and songs of Inya?*] one spirit questioned.

“Father?” Binaeril repeated, suddenly understanding. The spirit speaking to him was none other than Inyakan’s son—the son who had fled in fear of the wolf, the one who Inyakan had said resembled Binaeril.

Binaeril wanted to tell Inyakan’s son how much his father missed him, how deeply he longed for him. But he doubted that anything he said would be believed. The spirits of the Inya tribe had little trust in Binaeril, and even now, they seemed uncertain whether he truly intended to help Inyakan.

—*You don’t have much time.*

—*Your time in the spirit realm is limited. You need to convince them quickly.*

‘You should have told me that earlier!’

—*I’m telling you now, aren’t I?*

Binaeril felt an urgency to say what needed to be said, but before he could gather his thoughts, someone else acted first.

“*INYA LA CONFUITIRA FAILA.*”

A song filled the air.

The voice, imbued with the strength of a resilient and powerful soul, reached the ears of the spirits that followed it. And then, there was silence. 

Binaeril didn’t understand the words of the song, but it was clear that it was in the language of the Barbaroi. It was the first time he had heard such a song in their tongue, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one hearing it for the first time. Though their faces were unreadable, the spirits of the Inya tribe also fell silent, listening intently to the song.

“*MONBAU INJYA BAK INYA. INYA VAISA.*”

Then, something remarkable happened.

One by one, the spirits of the Inya began to join in, echoing the words of the song.

“*INYA VAISA. INYA VAISA.*”

Binaeril, holding his breath, listened to their chorus in stillness.

—*Binaeril, it’s time to leave.*

‘Just a little longer. Just a little more.’

—*No. If you stay too long, you won’t be able to return. You must go now.*

Binaeril’s body began to dissolve. The sensation of being submerged in thick liquid gradually faded, and with it, the sound of the Inya’s song grew fainter and fainter.

In the brief moment as Binaeril transitioned from the spirit realm back to reality, he caught the overlapping sounds of the song being sung by both Inyakan and the spirits of the Inya.

“*INJYA BAK INYA. INYA VAISA.*”

[*INJYA BAK INYA. INYA VAISA.*]

***

Paladin Antero had led his army deep into the snowfields of Barbaroana.

“Ugh, it’s freezing! How far do we have to go?”

“Antero, are you sure the one who killed Sir Callisto is really out here? It feels like days since we’ve seen anything, not even a single rat.”

“…Agreed.”

The paladins following Antero had been grumbling for three days straight.

‘Damn it! I don’t know either!’

The truth was, Antero had no idea where they were headed. The others didn’t realize it, but the one truly leading them was not Antero.

Antero glanced back at the man following a row behind the paladins. *Why are they all on my case when I’m just going where that bastard tells me to?* The man in the black hood was a direct subordinate of the Cardinal. When they had finally exchanged names, he had introduced himself as Scylla. Whether that was his real name, Antero wasn’t sure.

“Antero, you may have the Starfall, but we didn’t recognize you as the leader,” one of the paladins muttered.

“Yeah, and honestly, aren’t you the worst swordsman among us?”

“Shut up. We’re almost there,” Antero snapped back.

“We’ve heard ‘almost there’ like two hundred times now,” another paladin grumbled, clearly frustrated.

The paladins were on edge, eager to take out their frustrations on him. Antero subtly slowed his pace to sidle up next to Scylla.

“Is this really the right place? How much farther do we have to go?” Antero whispered.

“…You’re holding the Starfall, and yet you can’t feel it?” Scylla replied, his tone flat.

“What am I supposed to be feeling?”

“Forget it. You’re clearly not suited for this. I’ll guide the way—just keep the others in line,” Scylla said dismissively.

Antero disliked him immensely. He resented the way Scylla, a mere underling of the Cardinal, spoke down to him. He also didn’t like that Scylla seemed to know something he didn’t.

*Once this mission is over, I’ll kill him. Arrogant bastard…* Antero thought to himself. After having already orchestrated the downfall of Captain Yunnaeril, he feared nothing now. *If I’ve chosen this path, I might as well see it through to the end. I’ll bury that guy on this mission and become the Cardinal’s sole blade.*

Antero silently plotted his move. As the Church’s forces grew increasingly weary under the extreme weather conditions, a brilliant pillar of light suddenly shot up into the stormy sky. Everyone instinctively looked up at the pillar.

“What… what is that?!”

Scylla, who had been directing Antero, recognized it immediately. *It’s the power of the Fragment. He’s found something.*

He hurried to Antero’s side, commanding him to head toward the light.

“Why? What is that?” 

“The Fragment is there.”