Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

‘Ugh… I feel sick…’

Priya awoke with a sense that the entire world around her was swaying. And indeed, it was. The ground beneath her wasn’t solid—it was moving. She lifted the coat that had been covering her eyes and looked around in confusion.

“Where am I…?”

“Hmm? You’re awake,” a familiar voice responded. The scent in the air was one she had encountered before. She was inside a moving carriage, with only the coachman and herself present.

When she turned to see who had spoken, she was shocked. Recognizing the coachman, Priya let out a startled cry. The man sitting in the driver’s seat jumped as well, biting his tongue in the process.

“Ow, ow…”

“Oww…”

Both of them groaned—Priya, who had fallen from her seat in her surprise, and the man, who was nursing his injured tongue.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Priya demanded, her voice still shaky from the shock.

“Gwa, I am Gwaristow, and you are awake at gwast the right time…” Paladin Callisto tried to speak, but his words were slurred from biting his tongue.

“Sir Callisto? How… how are you here?” Priya asked, her confusion deepening.

“Ow, this hurts…” Callisto grumbled, massaging his jaw as if trying to set it back in place. Priya hadn’t yet noticed how awkward his movements were; Callisto was right-handed, but he was using his left hand to massage his jaw.

“I was just walking along when I saw someone collapsed on the ground,” Callisto explained, wincing as he spoke. “I looked closer and, well, it was a face I recognized!”

“Is this a joke?” Priya asked, her patience wearing thin.

“It’s the truth.”

“Cut it out. It’s not funny,” Priya snapped.

“Hmm, sorry,” Callisto said, his tone sheepish.

Priya fumbled with the loose robe draped over her body. Something felt off, like something was missing. When she lifted the robe and looked underneath, she realized she was completely naked beneath it, without even undergarments.

“??! Sir Callisto!!!” she shouted, horrified.

“Wh-what is it?”

“My clothes!!” Priya exclaimed, her voice filled with indignation.

At her outburst, Callisto desperately looked away, his gaze darting anywhere but at her.

“What happened to my dress, you perverted paladin?”

“It was all torn up and soaked in blood, so I had no choice. I had to check your wounds and stop the bleeding,” Callisto explained, sounding defensive.

“What did you do with the clothes I was wearing?” 

“I threw it away.”

“My favorite dress!” Priya shouted in anger. But as she glared at Callisto, she finally noticed something was off about him. Callisto offered her a sheepish smile, but it couldn’t conceal the profound absence she was now fully aware of.

“Sir, what’s wrong with your arm?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Where Paladin Callisto’s right arm should have been, there was nothing but empty space.

“It was cumbersome, so I got rid of it,” he said, attempting a light-hearted tone.

“…Is this really the time for jokes? That’s not like you at all,” Priya replied, her concern deepening.

“‘Sir,’ you say…” Callisto’s smile turned bitter. “I’m not a ‘sir’ anymore.”

“I’ve been dismissed from my position as Paladin. To be more precise, I’ve been officially declared dead.”

“What do you mean?” Priya asked, a cold shiver running down her spine.

“The captain… he tried to kill me,” Callisto revealed, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth.

“Yunnaeril tried to kill you? Is that true?” Priya’s voice was laced with shock and disbelief.

“Yes. He took my arm. I’m no longer a captain, and he’s no longer the man I knew. But after all these years, it’s hard to hate him, even now.”

Priya saw the deep regret etched into the old knight’s face. It was a regret that had been festering for a long time, the kind of sorrow that came from being betrayed by someone he had trusted. Priya understood that feeling all too well.

Callisto slowly shook his head, as if trying to dispel the memories.

“I don’t know what happened. I asked the captain what truly happened in Barbaroana.”

“And this was his answer. He took my arm, and I barely escaped with my life.”

Only two people in the world truly knew what had happened in the Inya tribe’s village that day: Yunnaeril Dalheim and Priya Merzina.

“You were after Starfall, weren’t you?” Callisto continued. “I knew you would go back to find him. So I waited.”

“You watched our fight,” Priya said, understanding dawning on her.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. As you can see, I wasn’t exactly in the best condition,” Callisto replied, his tone filled with regret.

Priya didn’t blame him. After all, it was Callisto who had saved her and allowed her to be alive at this moment.

“Yunnaeril… has really changed,” Priya murmured, more to herself than to Callisto.

“He’s changed a great deal,” Callisto agreed.

The Yunnaeril that Priya remembered, the one that Dominic, Priya, and everyone else who knew him remembered, would never have turned a blade on his own men. He had been the embodiment of the Order’s authority, its glory, and its compassion. He was a symbol, an almost untouchable ideal within the Order.

“Sister, it’s time to let go. The captain has changed. I fear he won’t be coming back to who he once was,” Callisto said, his voice heavy with resignation.

Priya knew this already—she had seen it in Yunnaeril’s eyes when he looked down at her. There was no affection left, nothing of the man she once knew. But hearing it confirmed by someone else made it all the more painful.

After a brief moment to gather her emotions, Priya asked again, “Where is this carriage headed?”

Callisto, who had been speaking with her while never stopping his work as a coachman, replied, “We’re heading west.”

“West?” Priya echoed, confusion settling in.

“More precisely, northwest,” Callisto clarified, his gaze shifting to meet hers. “I want to see it with my own eyes. What really happened that day.”

“Sir, you don’t mean…?”

“This carriage is bound for Barbaroana.”

Meanwhile, Paladin Antero had crossed the border of the Holy Kingdom of Vitory, galloping without pause. Unlike the empire, kingdoms, or duchies, the Holy Kingdom of Vitory was unique—composed of a single city-state, a nation within one vast city.

The capital and entire territory of Vitory was the city itself, ‘Vitory,’ a massive urban sprawl that dwarfed most other cities in size. However, it was still just a city, albeit a large one, and anyone who crossed the border would find themselves in the heart of the city-state before long.

“Paladin Antero is entering!” 

A guard at the city gate, recognizing Antero from a distance and knowing his fiery and arrogant temperament, quickly ordered the drawbridge to be lowered. Antero, not slowing his pace, rode straight into Vitory and made his way toward the official residence within the city.

“Make way!”

“Paladin Antero is here!”

“Move aside!” 

Everyone who saw him on the streets fled, clearing a path for him as he charged through. But suddenly, a man appeared directly in Antero’s path, standing still as a rock. Antero yelled out, trying to warn him, but the man merely turned his head to look at him.

“!!!” 

Upon seeing the man’s face, Antero urgently pulled on the reins.

*Whinny!*

The horse reared up in pain and let out a shrill cry before collapsing to the ground. The sudden jolt sent Antero tumbling unceremoniously from his saddle. Despite the pain, Antero barely noticed, his mind too consumed by the shock of recognizing the man who had appeared before him.

Antero quickly stood up and saluted, realizing that the man blocking his path was none other than Yunnaeril Dalheim, the First Knight of the Order.

Yunnaeril gazed at Antero with a dry, unreadable expression as Antero scrambled to his feet.

“Sir Antero, I thought you were on a mission to the southern federation states,” Yunnaeril said.

“I’ve just returned!” Antero replied, snapping to attention.

Yunnaeril was known for being kind to his junior knights, but only to a certain extent. Antero always felt that Yunnaeril kept an invisible line that he never crossed, a line of distance that made dealing with him difficult. Yet today, Antero was glad to see him.

“Captain Yunnaeril, I’ve found the wanted criminal that was recently posted!” Antero said eagerly.

Yunnaeril’s expression barely shifted, but Antero mistook the slight movement as encouragement and launched into his tale with gusto.

He recounted how he had, under “his” orders, searched the festival participants in Steelbelt, how he had finally located the wanted criminal, and how he had pursued the fugitive despite fierce resistance from the criminal’s companions. He detailed everything, including the strength of the fugitives and their resistance. Naturally, Binaeril was mentioned in this report.

Throughout Antero’s detailed account, Yunnaeril’s expression remained unchanged, unreadable.

“…I returned to the Order immediately after!” Antero finished, his voice tinged with desperation for approval.

Yunnaeril, having listened carefully, picked up on the unspoken details hidden within Antero’s report.

“Sir Antero, you’ve done well to return and report. But didn’t you depart for the mission with a contingent of the Order’s soldiers? You’re alone now,” Yunnaeril observed.

“Well, that…”

This was information Antero had deliberately withheld. Caught off guard by Yunnaeril’s directness, Antero stammered, trying to explain. He had chosen to emphasize the strength of his opponents rather than admit his own failures.

“Captain, you have to understand—the fugitive wasn’t alone. Besides that bald man, there was another knight and even a mage supporting him…”

“So,” Yunnaeril cut him off, “you’ve lost all of the Order’s precious soldiers, and you’ve failed to capture the fugitive even though you encountered him.”

“But, Captain! The enemy was powerful enough to confront both Deputy Commander Callisto and Matthias at the same time. I couldn’t handle them alone.”

“If that’s what you truly believed, then requesting additional support from the Order should have been your first step, not recklessly engaging them on your own,” Yunnaeril responded, his words hitting the mark with cold precision.

Yunnaeril’s words cut deep, laying bare the truth that Antero had been blinded by the prospect of glory and had acted rashly, leading to his failure.

“Due to your hasty actions, the fugitive is now fully aware that the Order is tracking him. Well done, Sir Antero. Do you have any more excuses to offer?” Yunnaeril’s voice was as cold as ice.

“He can’t have gotten far. If you provide me with support from the other Paladins, I can go and—”

“Of course, we’ll pursue him,” Yunnaeril interrupted, his tone cutting. “But your involvement ends here. You will not be part of that effort.”

Without another word, Yunnaeril turned his back on Antero and walked away, not bothering to look back. Antero stood there, stunned, feeling both anger and confusion welling up inside him.

He couldn’t understand Yunnaeril’s reaction. Finding the fugitive was an undeniable achievement, and the loss of a few soldiers seemed a minor price to pay compared to that. After all, Antero himself, the most crucial asset, had returned safely to the Order. So why was the captain so cold toward him?

“Sir Antero,” Yunnaeril called back over his shoulder, “You are to remain within the Order’s grounds and refrain from any further actions until this matter is resolved. Your deeds will be evaluated once the fugitive is captured.”

With that, Yunnaeril left, leaving Antero standing there, a mixture of shock and frustration etched on his face. He watched Yunnaeril disappear into the distance, trying to process what had just happened.

Just then, someone approached Antero. The figure was cloaked in a black hood, their face hidden entirely in shadow—a figure who had no business showing such a disrespectful appearance within the Order’s grounds.

“Paladin Antero,” the figure addressed him in a low, unidentifiable voice.

Antero eyed the hooded figure with suspicion. “Who are you? And what’s with that blasphemous outfit?”

“Please, come with me, Sir Antero,” the hooded figure replied, ignoring Antero’s question.

“What? Now even some nameless member of the Order dares to command me?” Antero snapped, his temper already frayed from his encounter with Yunnaeril.

Yet the figure didn’t flinch. In fact, the stranger’s reaction was unnervingly calm. Antero had expected them to back down, but they stood their ground, unfazed. There was something even more unsettling—none of the other Order members passing by seemed to notice the hooded figure at all. It was as if Antero was speaking to someone invisible.

“It would be in your best interest to comply,” the figure said quietly, stepping closer. 

Antero, furious, raised his hand to strike the figure. But in an instant, the figure grabbed Antero’s wrist, twisted it painfully, and clamped a hand over his mouth before he could cry out.

“The Cardinal commands it,” the figure whispered in Antero’s ear before releasing him.

The stranger then turned and began walking away without a second glance. Antero, now deeply unsettled, hesitated for a moment before deciding to follow. Something told him he had no choice but to comply, even as a nagging sense of foreboding settled over him.