Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

The man in the black hood led Antero through a labyrinthine alley behind the cathedral. As they walked, Antero couldn’t recall ever seeing such a winding path within the Order’s residence. The alley led to an unassuming side door, hidden away from the main thoroughfares of the grand cathedral complex. The door creaked open, and the man gestured for Antero to enter.

The corridor beyond was dimly lit, with low ceilings and damp walls. As Antero cautiously made his way inside, he was greeted by a voice.

“Paladin Antero, please, have a seat.”

Sitting on a raised chair at the far end of the room was Cardinal Cristopho. The sight of the cardinal made Antero’s stomach turn. Cristopho was someone no one in the Order wanted to be associated with.

In the Vitory Order, anyone who reached the rank of bishop or higher had typically been dedicated to the church since childhood, growing up entirely within the cloistered environment of the church. Cristopho, however, was an exception. He had seized power during internal strife within the Order about a decade ago. He was widely regarded as a leader among the heretical factions within the church—a figure of immense power but also immense danger. In short, Cristopho was someone no one in the Order wanted to cross paths with.

Antero briefly considered making a run for it, but he remembered the man in the black hood standing just outside. That individual was clearly no ordinary guard; escaping wouldn’t be easy.

“If you keep standing there like that, my neck will snap from looking up at you. Please, have a seat,” Cristopho said with a gentle smile, though the invitation was anything but optional.

Realizing he had no other choice, Antero reluctantly sat down.

“Your Eminence, why have you summoned me?” Antero asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I wanted to commend you for your hard work on such a difficult mission,” Cristopho replied, his tone syrupy sweet. However, Antero couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

Before today, Antero had never had any dealings with Cardinal Cristopho. 

“It seems Captain Yunnaeril was rather harsh with you. It’s no way to treat a knight who has returned from a strenuous mission,” Cristopho continued, his voice dripping with insincere sympathy.

Despite the flattering words, Antero felt an increasing sense of unease. There was something inherently unsettling about being praised by someone like Cristopho.

“Your Eminence, please get to the point. I didn’t come here to listen to gossip about my captain,” Antero said, cutting through the pleasantries. Despite his mixed feelings about Yunnaeril, he preferred the captain over the scheming cardinal any day.

“I simply wanted to hear more about what you reported to Captain Yunnaeril,” Cristopho finally revealed his true intentions.

Antero’s lips curled into a cold, sardonic smile. So that was it. Cristopho wanted him to spy on his captain, to play the role of a pawn in some larger game.

“The Paladins of the Order serve His Holiness the Pope. I regret to inform you, Your Eminence, that I have no obligation to report to you,” Antero replied, standing up as he spoke.

But before he could fully rise, he felt the cold press of a blade against his throat.

“…What do you think you’re doing?” Antero asked, his voice taut with anger.

The man in the black hood, who had been silent until now, had drawn a dagger without making a sound and pressed it against Antero’s neck.

“The Cardinal has not finished speaking. Stay where you are,” the man commanded.

“Do you think Captain Yunnaeril will let this slide if he finds out what you’re doing?” Antero retorted, addressing both the hooded man and the Cardinal.

“Scylla, stand down. There’s no need for this—our conversation isn’t over yet,” Cristopho said calmly.

The man named Scylla retreated into the shadows, his presence disappearing as if he had never been there.

“Sir Antero,” the Cardinal’s voice came again, but it had lost its earlier warmth, replaced by a chilling and sinister tone. “You need not worry about Captain Yunnaeril. The one you’re concerned about is already my subordinate.”

This revelation struck Antero like a blow. 

“The First Sword of the Order, Captain Yunnaeril, is your subordinate?” Antero asked, incredulous.

“Precisely.”

“Who could possibly…”

“Do you know when Yunnaeril Dalheim first joined the Order?” Cristopho asked, cutting off Antero’s question.

Antero, not being Yunnaeril’s personal historian, had no idea.

“Exactly ten years ago.”

“Ten years ago…?” Antero murmured, realizing that was the same time when Cristopho had seized power within the Order, during the infamous internal purge against heretics.

“Surely not…” 

“Yunnaeril Dalheim was a boy I brought into the Order myself,” Cristopho continued. “Persuasion? Coercion? None of that was necessary. Why? Because he was ‘mine’ from the start.”

Antero could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“Sir Antero,” the Cardinal said, his tone becoming almost casual. “I believe you are an ambitious man. Not someone content with the mediocrity of defeat, but a person with aspirations.”

As he spoke, Cristopho picked up the bishop’s staff that had been resting beside him.

“It seems that Captain Yunnaeril has been entertaining thoughts of betrayal lately. I am looking for a new master for Starfall. Would you be interested?”

Meanwhile, Binaeril and his companions arrived at a desolate area on the outskirts of the city. Binaeril kept one hand on the power orb of the magical carriage while using the other to unfold a map and confirm their location.

“According to the map, there should be a village nearby. A very small one,” Binaeril said.

“Finally, we’re almost there,” Inyakan sighed.

“It’s been a long journey,” Dominic added, both men exhaling in unison, relieved that their journey was nearing its end.

“Why are you all so tense? It’s no different from riding a regular carriage,” Binaeril remarked.

“That’s exactly the problem. A carriage without a horse or a driver—just think about that for a second,” Inyakan retorted.

As the one directly powering the carriage, Binaeril was impressed by how finely engineered the vehicle was. But his companions didn’t share his enthusiasm. To them, the Magic Carriage felt like an uncontrollable beast, one that could easily veer off a cliff at any moment.

“So, Binaeril, who exactly are we looking for out here?” Dominic asked, breaking the silence as Binaeril studied the map.

Binaeril hesitated. He hadn’t considered how Dominic might react. Dominic Schiller had once been a knight pursuing Priya, and there could be unresolved emotions between them that Binaeril wasn’t aware of.

“…Priya,” he finally answered. “I’m looking for the Enchantress, Priya Merzina.”

The moment he mentioned her name, Dominic’s expression hardened, and the atmosphere in the carriage grew tense. Binaeril realized that he hadn’t anticipated Dominic’s presence when setting out on this journey, so he hadn’t factored in how this revelation might affect him.

Dominic was the first to break the silence. “It’s fine. I’ve decided not to let past grudges control me. If I had, Binaeril, I would have struck you down the moment we met.”

Inyakan chimed in with a smirk, “And if you had, your head would’ve rolled before you even got the chance.”

Dominic shot a glare at the one-eyed bald man beside him. “What?”

“Can’t you keep your mouth shut for once?”

“Not likely,” Inyakan replied with a grin.

Despite the banter, the Magic Carriage continued its journey in relative peace, nearing their destination. However, a nagging question lingered in Binaeril’s mind.

‘Terra mentioned a small village at this location. Did the villagers harm Priya?’

It seemed unlikely that ordinary humans could overpower someone as powerful as Priya, unless… 

‘Could it have been Yunnaeril who did it?’

Binaeril had no answers yet, only suspicions. But as the Magic Carriage rolled into the village, those suspicions would soon be put to the test.

Suddenly, a piercing scream rang out, and the carriage lurched violently.

As they entered the outskirts of the village, they were ambushed by lurking monsters. To the creatures, the Magic Carriage was an unexpected bounty.

“Kiyaaak!”

The beasts swarmed the carriage, scratching at the windows and climbing onto the roof, shaking the vehicle violently in an attempt to tear it apart.

As the relentless assault from the monsters continued, it became clear that the Magic Carriage wouldn’t hold out much longer under the pressure.

“What the hell is going on?” Inyakan shouted, trying to steady himself.

“I don’t know! This was supposed to be a village!” Binaeril replied, equally confused.

But beyond the windows, all they could see were the swarming masses of monsters. The sheer number of creatures, packed so densely in this small area, was mind-boggling. There was no way this could be a place where humans lived—at least, not anymore.

“This thing’s going to fall apart!” Dominic warned. The Magic Carriage was holding up, but only thanks to the exceptional engineering of Ducat and the Toin.

“We have to drive them off!” Binaeril urged.

“If we open the door, they’ll flood in!” Inyakan countered.

“Just give me a moment—I’ll try something,” Binaeril said, focusing his energy.

He stopped channeling magic into the Magic Carriage’s power source and instead began pouring his energy into the vehicle’s exterior. Using his imagination, he envisioned the body of the carriage sprouting sharp spikes.

Suddenly, blades erupted from the Magic Carriage’s sides, piercing through the monsters that were clinging to it. The creatures screeched and died almost instantly, impaled by the newly-formed spikes.

Seizing the moment, Binaeril kicked the door open and charged out, facing the horde of monsters.

“Kiyaak!” 

The remaining creatures, now enraged, rushed toward Binaeril. He quickly raised his arm, firing magical bullets that exploded the heads of the oncoming beasts.

Orcs, Skullhorns, Ghouls, Pig-tails… The variety of monsters was staggering, each one belonging to different habitats and ecosystems, yet somehow they had all converged here in this small village. It was unnatural, to say the least.

“There’s no way this is happening naturally!” Binaeril shouted as he continued to fend off the monsters.

“Inyakan! Dominic! Help me out!” he called.

Without hesitation, Inyakan and Dominic leaped out of the Magic Carriage, weapons drawn. Inyakan’s face was set in a grim expression, betraying a mix of anger and excitement as he took in the chaotic scene.

“I’ve never seen so many monsters in one place before,” Dominic remarked as he prepared for battle.

“Neither have I,” Binaeril replied.

“It brings back some dirty memories,” Inyakan growled, his grip tightening on his weapon.

“Let’s clear them out first,” Binaeril suggested.

The three of them engaged the monsters with everything they had. Swords flashed, spells crackled, and the air was filled with the sounds of battle. The monsters fought back fiercely, but one by one, they fell to the combined might of the trio.

When the battle finally ended, the ground around the Magic Carriage was littered with the bodies of dozens of slain monsters. Binaeril glanced around at the aftermath, the number of corpses reminding him of the undead horde he had encountered in the southern duchy of the Empire. But unlike that situation, where the undead were controlled by a single mind, these monsters had seemed to act independently, yet they were all gathered in one place.

‘There’s definitely something here that’s drawing the monsters,’ Binaeril thought.

Monsters were naturally attracted to the scent of mana, and it was clear that something in this village was emitting a powerful enough aura to lure them in. Binaeril extended his senses, scanning the area for concentrations of mana. He quickly detected a spot where the monsters were unusually dense.

“Wait here!” Binaeril shouted to his companions before sprinting towards the location.

Inyakan and Dominic exchanged glances, then followed at a distance, curious about what Binaeril had discovered.

The source of the disturbance turned out to be an old, rundown stable. The entrance was crowded with monsters, their bodies packed tightly together as if protecting something inside.

“Krraaah! Kraaah!” 

Some of the creatures lunged at Binaeril as he approached, but most simply watched him warily, as if guarding something precious within the stable.

“Explode,” Binaeril muttered, unleashing a burst of mana that caused the heads of the guarding monsters to burst simultaneously. 

With the immediate threat eliminated, he pushed his way through the remaining creatures and into the stable. Inside, he found a pile of hay, and on top of it, a piece of cloth.

Binaeril recognized it instantly—a bloodstained piece of white fabric. It was the dress Priya had worn. 

‘Could the monsters have been drawn here by the scent of blood?’ he wondered. But if that were the case, the dress should have been torn to shreds by now. Instead, it seemed like the monsters were protecting it, not devouring it.

This scene reminded Binaeril of something he had seen before—the way the gnolls and their chieftain had behaved when he had encountered them in Velos Fortress. The creatures had acted almost as if they were worshiping him.

“Binaeril,” Inyakan’s voice broke through his thoughts. He had caught up with Binaeril and now stood at the entrance to the stable, his expression serious. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Binaeril turned to listen, sensing the gravity in Inyakan’s tone.

“This scene… it reminds me of something,” Inyakan began, his eyes narrowing as he recalled the memory. “The village I returned to, my Inya tribe’s village, looked just like this. Overrun with monsters, so much so that you could barely recognize it.”