Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage's Book - Chapter 8

“A mage who doesn’t chant spells?”

What kind of question is that? A mage who doesn’t chant spells?

Of course, I know. A being who can reveal their power with mere imagination. Haven’t such figures often appeared in the epic poems of wandering poets?

And the protagonists of those epic poems, though hidden in metaphor, generally refer to the same individuals.

…Though that too may be an exaggeration.

“Are you asking about a certain level of proficiency?”

The skills of mages are usually classified according to a system called ‘tiers.’

From the 1st tier, for those just beginning to learn magic, up to the 7th tier, which only one person in history has ever reached.

The higher the tier, the more metaphysical, complex, and specialized the magic.

However, the tier system wasn’t a clear-cut measure of skill. The field of magic itself didn’t have that long of a history.

Even mages of the same tier had their own specialized fields, so the tier system didn’t provide a perfect explanation.

Yet there were commonalities. Imagination, willpower, and chanting were essential elements for all mages.

“That’s not it. I was asking if it’s realistically possible.”

Professor Yulio misunderstood Rike’s question. He let out a short, hearty laugh.

“Looks like Professor Avia Flynn is playing tricks again. Seeing the princess come running like this.”

With some preparations, it wasn’t too difficult to make it seem like one was using magic without any preliminary work.

And Avia Flynn was someone who possessed both the skill and the playfulness to do such things.

“No? That’s not it. If it were another professor’s magic, I might suspect a trick too. But what I saw was a student’s magic.”

“Pardon?”

Professor Yulio didn’t immediately understand. As he chewed over her words again, his astonishment grew.

“A student, you say?”

Dean Yulio first considered the method.

Using a sound barrier to erase the sound of the spell, or delaying the spell itself… No matter how he thought about it, it wasn’t something a student could achieve.

“Who was it? Malek Baldwin? No, his professor always grumbled about Malek’s slow progress. Then Avichi Muller? He would have been disciplined after a big fight with his professor. Then Gospelt Louis?”

Names of current top students came rolling off Yulio’s tongue.

Each professor’s top disciples were the closest contenders for this semester’s scholar selection. Naturally, they were the most skilled students.

Dean Yulio also remembered their faces.

But no matter how much he searched his memory, he couldn’t think of anyone with the skill to deceive a 5th-tier mage.

“A name called Binaeril Dalheim.”

It was an unfamiliar name.

Seeing the dean’s lack of understanding, Rike explained roughly what she had seen and heard.

“Some commoners were fighting in the sacred magic tower… ahem. So, a student who transferred just recently?”

In that case, it was natural that Professor Yulio didn’t know.

He didn’t remember every student who had been promoted.

“Is that even possible…?”

It was beyond the realm of Yulio’s common sense.

If it had been a report from another student, he wouldn’t have believed it.

But since it was her words, Yulio couldn’t dismiss the matter as a mere joke.

She was a kind of anomaly, a student with better eyes for tracking magical power than even himself, the dean.

Feigning that he would confirm the facts, Dean Yulio sent Rike away for now.

He then immediately connected to a communication spell.

“Yes, Dean.”

“Bring me all the information the magic tower holds on a student named Binaeril Dalheim.”

“Understood.”

After issuing his instructions, he ended the communication at once.

“A student who uses magic without chanting…?”

It sounded like a joke.

Regardless of the information that would be in the submitted documents, Dean Yulio thought he should meet this student named Binaeril in person.

In his dream, Binaeril saw a familiar ceiling.

It was the corner room on the second floor of the Dalheim mansion in Ruben, the room where he was born and raised.

His senses were awake, but he couldn’t move a finger.

It felt as if he were experiencing sleep paralysis.

With a creaking sound, someone entered his room.

Binaeril guessed the identity of the visitor.

Although he had never seen their face in his dreams, it was the person he had resented all his life.

The approaching presence felt as if it were playing a prank or sneaking in to steal something.

The presence reached Binaeril’s bed and crouched down.

He heard a rustling sound. The person hid something under Binaeril’s bed and then left, chuckling.

The real nightmare began then. Though he knew what was coming, he could never resist the nightmare.

Outside his room, he began to hear the noisy clanging of weapons.

There were the screams of servants, the shouts of someone fighting back.

Among the sounds of sharp weapons clashing, words like heresy and cult occasionally emerged.

But Binaeril couldn’t move.

Soon, a red light began to shine on the ceiling he was staring at.

The source was a fire that had started under his bed.

The crackling flames gradually emitted acrid smoke, and Binaeril still couldn’t move a finger.

‘It’s hot! Help me!’

He screamed, but it was only an internal scream. Then, someone burst into his room.

It was a different person from the first visitor.

While the first visitor exuded pure malice, this new one seemed desperate to save him.

The figure rushed over and leapt onto the burning bed. Then they embraced Binaeril.

Curling up tightly to avoid the scorching flames, the emaciated figure tried to protect Binaeril from the fire.

‘Mom, no. Mom!’

Young Binaeril was helpless.

As the bed and her body burned, all he could do was cry out in his mind.

“……Ha!”

At that moment, Binaeril woke up from the dream.

A fluttering book came into his view.

– Making a lot of noise, aren’t you?

His entire body was drenched in cold sweat.

He realized that his clothes were stiff and frozen.

It wasn’t just his clothes. When he got up, he saw that his bed was covered in frost.

“W-what’s going on?”

Only then did Binaeril realize that he was shivering.

– How should I know? You’re the one who did it while thrashing around.

“Ugh, it’s cold…”

After changing into new clothes, he noticed that even the floor around his bed was covered in frost.

“Did I do this?”

– Yeah. Look at you, using up all that magic. What kind of dream were you having?

It seemed even Veritas couldn’t peek into his dreams.

“It’s nothing.”

There was no need to be honest about everything.

Binaeril felt a pang of desolation as he looked around the bleak room.

Not long ago, he had been a perennial failure who couldn’t use any magic. Now, he was freezing his bed in his sleep.

Should he be pleased about this?

Binaeril realized that there was something wrong with his state.

“Can’t you help me stop the magic from going off on its own?”

– It’s power that follows your will. How can I help? You have to control it yourself.

Veritas, the source of his magical power, was of no help.

What Binaeril wanted was the result of three years of diligent effort.

He hadn’t wished for uncontrolled magic blasting all over the place.

“I need to find a way to control it.”

Without a solution, he felt at a loss.

Where was the problem? Where should he start?

“…Let’s start with the laundry.”

Binaeril sighed softly.

***

“That guy cheated! Yeah, it was magic! That guy used magic! Report him right away, the coward. He deserves to be expelled!”

“What nonsense. Magic? I didn’t even see him chant anything.”

Gillian was fuming in the infirmary.

“And I found out he’s from the Marquis of Ruben. Isn’t your family just barons?”

“Who cares about some backwater marquis!”

“Anyway, it was magic. Yeah, that girl who was knocked down when I pushed her. Didn’t she help him?”

“Talk some sense.”

It was an unconvincing story. Gillian was just babbling to protect his pride.

“You all saw it. That Binaeril guy got hit by me and collapsed. It’s impossible that a weakling like him suddenly changed like that.”

“Enough.”

“We let a lowly baron’s son join just because he had some money, and now he’s becoming more disgraceful. That’s why common-born kids can’t make it. They lack refinement.”

“Magic or not, we helped you look for him for days, but you lost. Seriously, this guy might actually be an illegitimate child.”

Gillian was too overwhelmed with shame and absurdity to respond.

The misunderstandings, or perhaps truths, spreading among his friends were already beyond control.

“I’ve seen his dad before, too. He’s a complete merchant. It was so funny seeing him grovel before my father.”

“Growing up in a family that counts money, do you think he has any pride? He’s a street urchin anyway. Honestly, I never wanted to hang out with him. He smells like a commoner.”

“Enough. How much time do we have to waste because of a guy like that? I’m leaving.”

“Me too.”

Even though Binaeril winning the fight didn’t mean his words were right, there was an unspoken agreement among boys this age that “the winner must be right.”

Left alone in the infirmary, Gillian bit his lower lip hard.

The noble friends he made at Elfenbine were his assets.

Weapons to use against his father and brothers, who found him a nuisance.

“Damn it!”

In his rage, Gillian started throwing whatever he could get his hands on. He couldn’t just leave things as they were.

“Isn’t there some way? Some way…”

A way to strike back at that bastard Binaeril and regain his friends’ trust.

“Yeah, that’s it!”

An idea struck Gillian’s mind.

“Heh, talking about rule-breaking. Coward. If you like the rules so much, let’s fight within them.”

He lost because of trickery, Binaeril must have done something underhanded. Gillian was fixated on this thought.

That meant that on a fair stage, he couldn’t possibly lose.

There was one official way to set up a stage where he could bring Binaeril Dalheim to his knees and become the victor.

A stage where students could test their magic against each other with certified overseers. A magical duel.

That was the only way for Gillian to restore his honor.