Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage's Book - Chapter 4

“So, what exactly are you?” Binaeril asked the old, talkative book perched on the nightstand beside his bed. 

In the place of the excitement and exhilaration that had passed, a large volume of curiosity settled in.

-Me? I am Veritas, also known as the Book of Truth.

“No, no. I’ve heard that a million times. What exactly are you?”

-I told you, I’m a book.

“You’re not just any ordinary book!”

Upon leaving the hall of the grand library, Veritas had transformed back into his book form. Was the boy he saw that day just an illusion? After spending a few days together, Binaeril had somewhat gotten used to conversing with a talking, flying book.

-Not an ordinary book? That’s correct. I am the chronicle of all histories, the encyclopedia of all existing magic, the diary of every researcher who has ever left records, the very embodiment of accumulated knowledge. I am the Book of Trut—

“Cut it out. If you strip away all the useless flourishes, you’re just a book with a single page.”

-The remaining parts were lost.

Binaeril had learned a few things after spending a few days with Veritas. Firstly, this book was incredibly brazen, filled with an immense amount of self-love. Secondly, it was extremely talkative, constantly chattering in his mind, which was quite tiresome.

-As I’ve said before, I’ve fulfilled my part of the contract. Now it’s your turn.

The Book of Truth had asked Binaeril to find its missing pages. The problem was that even Veritas didn’t know their exact locations.

-I lost the page that had the locations noted.

“So how am I supposed to find them?”

-You’ll know when you’re close.

What a completely unhelpful book.

“Ah, so you’re saying I have to find all these pages without knowing where they are or how many there are?”

-I wouldn’t be so unreasonable.

“Then?”

-There are fewer than ten missing pages. The rest of what you said is mostly accurate.

In the end, Binaeril couldn’t know the exact whereabouts of the missing pages.

‘Should I just throw it away?’

-Oh dear, how disrespectful.

Perhaps due to the synchronization effect, Veritas could read Binaeril’s thoughts at will, including his senses and emotions. It seemed that by picking up this peculiar book, Binaeril had lost a part of his privacy.

-Not that it’s a replacement, but there’s a reward.

“??”

-I am a living embodiment of magical power. Do you really think you shattered that cube with your own strength?

“Then?”

-I lent you my power.

“You provided the magical energy?”

-Exactly.

Magical energy, or mana, is the mental strength depleted through casting spells. It’s similar to physical stamina; high-tier spells require strong mana. Despite casting a powerful destructive spell, Binaeril hadn’t felt particularly fatigued, which aligned with Veritas’s claim.

“If that’s true, how much mana do you possess?”

-Not much at the moment. I’ve lost most of it. Right now, I have about as much as a 3rd-tier magician.

However, just having enough mana didn’t mean he could instantly perform high-level magic.

Just as intense exercise requires not only stamina but also skill, Binaeril still lacked absolute experience.

-As you recover the pages, you will regain lost mana. Then the power I can lend you will also increase.

This was an unexpected reward. Veritas often omitted the most important information in his explanations.

Binaeril recalled the abilities Veritas displayed in the grand library. The boy who used magic effortlessly, like breathing. Could he become like that too? If so…

-You could even get your revenge on your brother.

“Don’t read my mind.”

Whenever Binaeril thought of his brother, he was overwhelmed by a sticky feeling of disgust. It was like a fever spreading across his body.

-The first goal of our contract is to get out of this cramped tower.

“…Alright.”

Their conversation, which had been running parallel, finally seemed to find the right direction.

“To do that, I first need to pass the Scala exam.”

-I know.

The Scala was a kind of graduation exam. Students who met certain qualifications could be recommended to take the Scala exam, and if they passed, they would become officially recognized magicians by Elfenbine. The problem was that fewer than thirty students passed this exam each semester.

“I’ll try my best, but I don’t know how long it will take.”

-It won’t take long. I guarantee it.

Veritas let out a low, ominous laugh. Watching him, Binaeril wondered if he had picked up a cursed grimoire.

Binaeril was promptly transferred to the senior classes. New classes, a new curriculum, a new dormitory, and even a dedicated dining hall. Elfenbine divided talented students and others as sharply as a razor.

While junior classes focused on awakening theory and potential, senior classes taught advanced magic in earnest. For the first time in three years, Binaeril began to stand out in his classes.

“The most influential factor in the form of magic is the caster’s imagination. The world is a canvas, and you are painters with brushes,” said Avia Flynn, the lecturer, who conjured a milky white flower made of ice with a simple incantation. The precisely transformed elemental magic was as beautiful as any artwork. She knew well how to motivate her students.

The eyes of the female students sparkled, and the focus of the class increased.

“That’s beautiful…”

Avia, pleased with the hushed admiration, stepped closer to the students.

“And one way to strengthen your imagination is to visualize a clear image.”

Magicians who were just beginning, at the 1st tier, could barely materialize elements close to nature. Transforming and utilizing these elements was the next level.

“The more concrete, delicate, and detailed your imagination, the more defined your magic will be. Now, let’s practice. Try to materialize an element that you find easy to visualize.”

Most seniors could only produce small flames or droplets of water despite being able to use magic. Soon, the classroom filled with colorful elements. 

Gurgling mud, transparent water droplets, flickering flames, and gently swirling breezes floated around.

Avia walked around the classroom, giving individual assessments to each student.

“Gillian, good effort, but the size is too small.”

“Gupil, don’t look so down. Try a bit harder.”

Then, a spell drew all the students’ attention to one spot. Avia Flynn glanced at the attendance list to confirm the new student’s name.

“Binaeril Dalheim?”

What Binaeril had created was a single snowflake. It was a complex and delicate snowflake exuding a gentle chill. Even Avia felt a brief moment of enchantment looking at the translucent, light-reflecting snow crystal.

Regaining her composure, she offered her honest praise. “They say magic reflects the heart. You’ve conjured a snowflake as clear and beautiful as your soul. Well done.”

It was genuine praise. Avia placed her hand near her mouth and spoke with heartfelt admiration. In the midst of the murmuring students, Binaeril merely nodded calmly and responded dryly.

“Thank you, Professor.”

***

“In actual combat, the key is not how precisely you can visualize your magic. Discard all fancy and complicated concepts! Simple and fast spells are the most effective,” Professor Blanchot declared passionately, and the students couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

Pierre Blanchot was known as a practical, battle-experienced professor at Elfenbine. His teaching method was quite passionate and combative compared to the refined and serene classes of Avia Flynn.

“Speedy casting and powerful force require, above all, a magician’s steely will!” His classes were conducted with a fervor, using training dummies lined up for demonstration.

“Achieve the maximum effect with minimal cost. This is the golden rule you must cherish on the battlefield where your life is at stake.”

Pierre aimed his finger at the heads of the dummies.

“Piercing arrow of magical power!”

A beam of light shot out, shattering the heads of the solid dummies and continuing until it struck the training hall wall with a loud bang. The dummies’ heads were obliterated as if hit by a cannonball. It was a 1st-tier piercing spell that fired a concentrated energy arrow, though with far more power than any student could manage.

“Wow…!” The boys’ eyes sparkled with admiration and respect for Pierre.

“Now, you try it. You can use the same spell or apply it in a different way. Who wants to go first?”

An eager male student raised his hand and stepped forward. Pierre arranged the dummies in a line for him.

“Show us how quickly and effectively you can subdue your enemies.”

The student clasped his hands together and chanted the incantation.

“Piercing arrow of thunder!”

It was an applied version of the piercing spell. The student had some skill.

“Hoo,” Pierre’s eyes glinted with interest.

The lightning beam destroyed two dummies and was stopped by the third.

“Hmm. Well done,” Pierre said, despite usually being stingy with praise. The student smiled in relief.

“Who’s next? You there! Come forward.” Pierre called out Binaeril, wanting to test the new transfer student’s abilities.

“Give it a try.”

Pierre set up the dummies as he had done before, then stepped back with his arms crossed.

“Quickly and effectively, right?” Binaeril asked.

“Yes.”

Binaeril’s eyes widened in thought. Pierre Blanchot, a veteran who had spent a long time on battlefields, wouldn’t be impressed by mere brute force. Binaeril decided on his approach, spreading his palm slightly and extending it above his head.

The heart triggers the miracle, imagination brings it to life, and the incantation completes the magic. Binaeril found the quickest and most effective solution. He mumbled a low incantation that the other students couldn’t understand.

Pop!

“Ahh!”

A scream erupted from the observing students. Pierre frowned slightly. Binaeril had suddenly released a burst of light without warning, and the dummies remained unscathed.

“What are you doing?”

“I did as you asked.”

“The quickest and most effective subjugation, right?”

Binaeril’s solution was to rob the enemies of their sight. Pierre was momentarily speechless, caught off guard by his unexpected answer. Struggling to find fault, Pierre grudgingly acknowledged his answer.

“…Good method. Take your seat.”

The instructors reluctantly marked the highest scores in the late transfer student’s record. The name Binaeril Dalheim, once only known among juniors, began to spread among others.

However, light always casts shadows.

“Why is the transfer student showing off so much?”

Despite the faculty’s positive evaluations, there were certainly envious and resentful glances directed at Binaeril. Yet, Binaeril Dalheim, oblivious to the undercurrents, focused solely on his growth.