Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

“Are you defying me now?” Professor Freud maintained a facade of calm despite the fear bubbling within. The tension in the lab was palpable, filled with the clashing magic of the two adversaries.

Binaeril stayed silent, his gaze locked on Freud. He couldn’t afford to speak; he was using all his focus to control the forces of the magic stone reacting to Freud’s power. It was similar to the moment he had first consumed the stone, a precarious battle to maintain his sanity.

Freud found Binaeril’s silence infuriating. “Are you trying to challenge me?”

It was absurd. How dare a mere student confront a professor? Freud had tolerated enough of this insolent student’s antics.

‘This is insane,’ Binaeril thought. His defiant stance had been impulsive, without any thought of the consequences. Just managing the magic stone’s reactive energy was a struggle. To make matters worse, Freud’s increasing magical pressure was adding to the strain.

– Coward. How long are you going to keep dodging? Fight back. Do you think I lend you my power for nothing?

Veritas’s voice was anything but helpful, pushing Binaeril further towards conflict.

“You’re not worthy of the name Binaeril Dalheim. What makes you so arrogant? Is it your brother you rely on?” Freud finally mentioned the one person Binaeril loathed the most.

Binaeril clenched his teeth.

“Why? Did you think I wouldn’t know? You act high and mighty because you rely on your brother. Know your place. You’re not even close to his level.”

“Do not speak his name,” Binaeril hissed.

“Why not? Does it anger you that a mere professor of Elfenbine dares mention the Sword of the Order? I fear neither the Order nor their watchdogs. Why would a mage fear a dog with a collar?”

Freud’s refusal to use magic directly against Binaeril was his last shred of dignity. He couldn’t be seen as attacking a student first. He was confident he could subdue Binaeril if necessary.

But Freud underestimated Binaeril’s uniqueness.

Binaeril’s magic was highly reactive to his emotions. Translucent energies began to coalesce on Freud’s desk, taking form from Binaeril’s will.

“What is this…!” Freud was bewildered by the phenomenon. Even a seasoned mage like him couldn’t immediately counter such an anomaly.

Freud’s defense spell came a half-beat too late. Binaeril’s magic, now more tangible, struck his barrier. The lab echoed with the sound of their clashing powers.

Freud, having deflected the attack, was furious. How dare a student attack a professor?

“There is no reconsideration. You will be expelled,” Professor Freud said, his voice laced with anger as he prepared a counter-spell.

At that moment, the door to the lab flew open.

“What is going on here?” 

The deep, commanding voice of Dean Angelo Yulio cut through the tension between the two. 

“…Dean Yulio?”

The towering figure of Dean Yulio filled the entrance. He squeezed through the doorway and entered the room, his presence immediately cooling the heated atmosphere.

“Stop. Both of you.”

Dean Yulio rarely addressed his fellow professors with such authority, but this was an exception. The idea of a student and professor fighting within Elfenbine was unacceptable.

With Yulio’s intervention, the charged atmosphere dissipated, and both Binaeril and Professor Freud withdrew their magic. Freed from his antagonistic stance, Binaeril found it easier to control his power.

“Professor Freud, what is the meaning of this?” Dean Yulio directed his question at Freud first.

Freud struggled to find an appropriate response. He couldn’t justify his actions without admitting his inability to control a student. Realizing that excuses wouldn’t suffice, he decided to take a defiant stance.

“Dean Yulio, this is a matter between a teacher and his student.”

The implication was clear: Yulio should stay out of it. But the dean remained unfazed.

“A teacher and his student? I am well aware that you have not been properly guiding this student. I can only imagine the kind of baseless threats you’ve been making.”

Yulio’s words hit the mark. They weren’t typical of a dean speaking to a colleague, and Freud’s face turned red with humiliation.

“I cannot simply overlook your statements.”

“Overlook them or not, I only speak what I see and hear.”

Dean Yulio’s behavior was uncharacteristically blunt and aggressive, far from his usual composed demeanor.

“I have been personally mentoring this student for some time now. He shows great promise, a responsibility you should have taken on but neglected for over three years.”

“Are you accusing me?”

“Accusing you? The whole tower knows about your biased treatment of students and your habit of exploiting their desperation. Do you think I’ve been unaware and just turned a blind eye?”

Freud’s jaw tightened, the mix of shame and anger making his voice calm, almost chilling.

“…This matter will be discussed further at the faculty meeting.”

“You love those damn faculty meetings. Can’t prove your innocence any other way? There’s nothing more to say here. I’m taking this student with me.”

Dean Yulio ignored Freud’s spiteful glare and turned to Binaeril.

“Let’s talk outside.”

Binaeril wasn’t foolish. He had a vague sense of the considerable risk Dean Yulio had taken to pull him out of this situation. Following Yulio’s broad back, Binaeril left Freud’s lab in silence.

As they walked quietly for a while, Binaeril was filled with a mix of shame and gratitude, unsure of what to say. He felt it wouldn’t be polite to remain silent, so he finally spoke up.

“Um, Dean…”

“Oh, that felt good!” Yulio shouted, interrupting Binaeril just as he began to speak. 

The commotion drew the attention of students around the courtyard.

“I’ve always hated that slippery bastard’s antics, and seeing him put in his place felt great. Don’t you agree?”

“Uh, yes. Yes, it did,” Binaeril replied, feeling a bit of the tension lift. Seeing Professor Freud’s face twisted in anger was indeed satisfying.

“Don’t worry. They won’t be able to expel you. A talented student being dismissed just because someone doesn’t like them? Ridiculous.”

Yulio cast a quick glance at Binaeril. “And besides, Freud needed to be put in his place for a long time.”

Binaeril managed a small smile, feeling reassured by Yulio’s support.

“Exactly.”

Noticing the smile, Yulio looked at Binaeril more closely and asked, “Are you feeling unwell?”

“Yes, I think I need some rest.”

Yulio observed Binaeril’s condition carefully. “You seem to be suffering from some kind of poisoning. You can barely stand. Let’s get you to my training room.”

Upon arriving at the training room, Yulio locked the door and encouraged Binaeril to sit comfortably. By then, Binaeril’s condition was visibly worse, with red spots appearing all over his body. 

Yulio sat across from him, his expression serious. “Were you attacked by a monster? Was the fight long?”

“No, it was short. It didn’t last more than ten minutes.”

Yulio was surprised twice over. First, hearing from Rike and Sylvia that Binaeril had fought a dire wolf alone and managed to defeat it in such a short time. Second, the symptoms of mana poisoning were evident despite the lack of visible wounds.

Mana poisoning, also known as magic intoxication, was a condition typically found in mercenary mages who spent a lot of time on the front lines. Mages who fought monsters could experience an overload of magic if they suffered significant injuries or were exposed to dark magic for too long. It was not an external injury but a form of inner demon.

‘Why is he suffering from mana poisoning?’ 

At this moment, the reason for Binaeril’s condition was less important than the immediate need for treatment. Mana poisoning was not a physical injury, so even Princess Friederike’s healing abilities were ineffective. Most mages who suffer from mana poisoning face life-threatening situations. It was a stroke of luck that Binaeril had been noticed by the dean.

“Is it painful?” Yulio asked.

Binaeril, sweating profusely, replied, “I can endure it.”

“Don’t be so proud. What you’re experiencing is known as mana poisoning. You don’t have to answer, just listen carefully to what I’m about to say.”

“The source of magic is imagination, the power of thought. While the body has limits, the mind does not. This means that while physical injuries have limits, the mind does not. Binaeril, do you know why it is important for mages to maintain their composure?”

“To stay calm in fights with monsters?”

“I told you not to answer. Sigh. That’s only half correct. The more you practice magic, the more you realize it’s a matter of the heart. Do you understand? A mage’s power fundamentally depends on their heart.”

If that were the case, Binaeril’s pain was likely a mental one. However, its effects were transmitted directly to his body. Binaeril wondered what the dean was trying to convey.

“Warriors care for their bodies, but mages must care for their souls. Being overwhelmed by magic is the result of neglecting your soul. You are the master of your imagination, not the other way around.”

This was an esoteric lesson that Elfenbine did not typically teach.

“The same goes for dark magic. It is like the pain and anguish that erodes your heart. You must become the master of your heart. Can you do that?”

But it was Veritas who had taken the magic stone, not Binaeril. The desire to grow stronger was Veritas’s ambition. Binaeril’s goal was to avenge himself against his brother. Magic and power were secondary. Binaeril tried to set his own standards.

Veritas whispered to him.

– You can’t grow stronger with just effort. You want to surpass your brother, right? Do you think you can catch up to him, who grew stronger years before you, with your half-hearted methods?

– Did you plan to beat your brother by training at a leisurely pace, wasting time? Your brother?

Binaeril tried to distinguish between his desires and Veritas’s. Veritas was trying to convince him that they were the same. Veritas wanted to use Binaeril’s goals for his own ends. He needed to become stronger, by any means necessary, to retrieve the pages.

Listening to Dean Yulio’s words, Binaeril clarified the distinction between his own goals and Veritas’s. He resolved not to become a slave to Veritas.