Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

The Order’s army camped before Elfenbine, passing the days in uneasy anticipation. They strengthened their defenses, remaining vigilant to any signs of movement around them. Yunnaeril spent his time scouring the empty tower, searching for any trace of the mages, but his efforts yielded nothing. The soldiers’ meals grew increasingly meager, and the army’s morale plummeted. To have the enemy’s stronghold within sight yet be unable to act was a situation that eroded discipline. Maintaining order in such conditions was becoming impossible.

“What are we supposed to do? Just keep waiting like this?”

“Then why don’t you run out there and find some trace of those damned mages yourself!”

“This is pointless! The longer we wait, the worse off we’ll be!”

Every day, the command tent echoed with shouting as tempers flared. Even the other paladins had come to realize they were trapped in a deadly stalemate. Just as their frustration reached its peak, Binaeril made his next move.

Yunnaeril shot upright from his bed, his body tense. Lately, he had been plagued by insomnia and nightmares every night. But this time, it wasn’t a nightmare that woke him.

“Binaeril…”

He felt a powerful pull from the faint energy his brother possessed. This was the first time since they had set up camp before Elfenbine that he had felt such a strong connection.

‘An attack!’

Yunnaeril instinctively knew that the Elfenbine forces were on the move. He grabbed Starfall and hurried out of his tent.

“Where are they…?”

Focusing his senses, he felt the pull of Binaeril’s energy from the far eastern edge of the army’s camp.

‘Should I wake the others?’

If the enemy was launching an attack, he would need the support of the other paladins. Not because he couldn’t handle the mages of Elfenbine, but because the area they might target was too vast for him to cover alone. Yunnaeril knew he couldn’t protect the entire army by himself.

But then, the voices of the paladins who had criticized him echoed in his mind.

‘It was the commander who provided the clue that led to the ambush!’

‘What are we supposed to do? Just keep waiting?’

Those voices clouded his judgment. The longer he hesitated, the greater the damage would be.

He cursed himself for being shaken.

“Scylla, Callisto.”

He called out to the two figures who were like extensions of himself. He decided against summoning the other paladins. Time was of the essence. With his two doppelgängers at his side, Yunnaeril headed straight for the eastern edge of the camp.

‘Stay sharp. If you detect any movement from Starfall, you must alert me immediately.’

-Got it.

As Yunnaeril had sensed, Binaeril was indeed preparing a plan at the eastern perimeter of the Order’s forces. But Binaeril’s role was not to lead an assault. He crouched low, carefully watching his surroundings as he waited for someone.

-They’re coming!

Veritas’s voice rang in his mind.

“Time to move!”

As soon as Binaeril heard those words, he sprang to his feet. He drew on his magic, unfurling his wings wide. As he soared into the sky, he could feel the overwhelming energy of Starfall rapidly closing in on him.

For a brief moment, Binaeril felt as though he locked eyes with his approaching brother.

“Binaeril…!”

Yunnaeril’s cold gaze seemed to pierce through Binaeril’s entire being. But Binaeril didn’t wait for his brother to reach him. He could clearly see Yunnaeril raising his sword from a distance. With a powerful flap of his wings, Binaeril took off, flying away at full speed.

“Binaeril!!”

Yunnaeril’s shout echoed, stretching out as the landscape rapidly receded. He watched in disbelief as Binaeril fled, his sword still unsheathed. Should he give chase? Was Binaeril fleeing because his plan had been discovered? But something felt wrong—there were no other signs of an impending attack, no additional presences beyond Binaeril’s.

And then it hit him, a chilling realization that sent shivers down his spine.

This is a trap!

The western side of the camp was under attack.

“Attack! The mages are attacking!”

Just like in the first assault, explosions erupted, and fires spread, sowing chaos among the troops. After the first attack, Yunnaeril had divided the remaining supplies into several smaller caches, aiming to minimize damage in case of another ambush. But this also meant that losing even one cache would be devastating.

The mages leading the assault targeted the suspicious tents covering the supply caches, setting them ablaze.

“Stop them! Put out the fires!”

“Call the paladins!”

“They’re already here, damn it! Where did those bastards come from?”

Despite having spread their forces wide and maintaining tight security with no gaps, it was useless against the mages. Of course, it was; the Elfenbine strike team had appeared shrouded in Priya’s mist.

“Catch them! Put out the fires! Where is Commander Yunnaeril?!”

“He’s not in his tent!”

“At a time like this?!”

Yunnaeril was far to the east, chasing Binaeril in the opposite direction.

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant!”

“Yes, Paladin Sergio!”

“We’ll chase those mages! Focus on extinguishing the flames!”

Paladins Pascal and Sergio sprinted toward the direction where the magic was being cast.

[Retreat!]

As soon as Priya spotted the two paladins, she gave the order to retreat. She was the only one among the strike team who could identify the paladins.

[Retreat!!]

The retreat was executed just as before. While Priya kept the advancing paladins at bay, the mages scattered their magic and fled. The few soldiers who pursued them couldn’t hold them back.

“Well then, goodbye for now,” Priya said with a smile, dispersing another thick mist.

Once again, all that was left were flames and the smoldering remains of their supplies.

“Damn it! Damn it all!!”

Having been caught off guard by two successive attacks, Pascal couldn’t contain his fury. As they struggled to extinguish the flames and regroup, he took out his frustration on anything within reach, smashing everything in sight.

Normally, Sergio would have tried to calm Pascal down, but this time he stood in a corner of the meeting room with a grim expression, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Cunning Elfenbine rats! Vermin! I won’t rest until they’re torn to shreds!” Pascal fumed, his voice filled with rage.

Twice now, they had let the enemy slip through their fingers. The Elfenbine forces had relentlessly targeted their supplies, knowing they couldn’t face the full might of the Order’s army directly. Instead, they aimed to choke the army by cutting off its lifeline. The real problem was that there seemed to be no way to stop them.

“We didn’t catch a single one of them!”

“I’m aware,” Sergio replied, his tone weary.

“And where was Commander Yunnaeril? Nowhere to be found!”

“Our soldiers are starving, and there’s no guarantee we can fend off the next attack!”

“…Right,” Sergio conceded, the frustration evident in his voice.

The Order had sent an army of 60,000—a force so large that it had become a vulnerability. With only six paladins, including Yunnaeril, there was no way to protect the entire army. The rest of the troops were practically defenseless against the mages of Elfenbine.

The officers who had been summoned began to filter into the tent one by one, with Yunnaeril arriving last. Pascal, who had been stewing in anger, immediately unleashed his fury on Yunnaeril.

“What were you doing while everything fell apart?” he demanded.

Yunnaeril, though slightly out of breath, showed no signs of injury or battle fatigue.

“I detected suspicious activity in the east and went to investigate,” Yunnaeril explained calmly.

“Without even informing us?” Pascal shot back, his tone dripping with skepticism.

As the overall commander, Yunnaeril had no obligation to report to them, but Pascal was pushing the boundaries. He was the most senior of the remaining knights of the Order, and he had never been comfortable with such a young commander. The setbacks in the war only provided him with the perfect opportunity to challenge Yunnaeril’s authority.

Ignoring Pascal’s hostility, Yunnaeril turned to receive a report on the damage.

“The size of our forces has become a disadvantage,” he remarked, acknowledging the situation. It wasn’t what he had wanted; the decision to amass such a large army had been made by Archbishop Vigilio, not by Yunnaeril.

“We need to scour the area around Elfenbine and wipe out anyone we find,” Pascal insisted, his tone hard.

But Yunnaeril knew that such a strategy would only weaken the defenses of the main force. He doubted that the mages of Elfenbine would be so easily caught.

“Follow my advice now, Commander. Hand over the command to me,” Pascal demanded, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and ambition.

While Pascal was the only one openly expressing his doubts, Yunnaeril could sense the unease in the other paladins as well. They all quietly urged Yunnaeril to make a decision.

Yunnaeril moved swiftly. With a sharp motion, he drew Starfall and slammed it into the center of the table. The suddenness of the action made the paladins step back in surprise.

“Catching a few mages won’t change anything. We need to target their leader,” Yunnaeril stated, his tone calm and steady. He wasn’t provoked by Pascal’s challenge, nor did he show any anger at the insubordination.

“And who is that leader? The Tower Lord?”

A brief silence fell over the room. Everyone knew by now that Binaeril was the commander’s brother.

“But how do we draw Binaeril out?” one of the paladins asked, breaking the tension. “We couldn’t even stop their last attack.”

“I’ve figured out how they lure us in. We’ll turn their strategy against them,” Yunnaeril replied confidently.

“How?” another paladin asked, intrigued.

“Starfall will be the bait,” Yunnaeril announced.

All eyes turned from Yunnaeril to Starfall, the legendary sword that he wielded.

“If this plan fails, you can hold me responsible,” Yunnaeril continued, his tone resolute as he looked down at the other paladins from where he stood, half-leaning on the table. “But with this operation, I promise you, we will capture Binaeril. This is my final promise.”

“We need to strike the decisive blow,” Pascal chimed in, still simmering with anger. “The one that will finally choke the life out of them.”

The Order’s army was teetering on the edge of collapse, with their supplies nearly exhausted and internal divisions beginning to show. Meanwhile, the mages of Elfenbine gathered in the “true” tower to plan their next move after each successful raid.

“We have to finish this while we have the upper hand. One more push, and they’ll crumble,” one of the mages urged.

Even from the outside, it was clear that the Order’s morale was at rock bottom. The relentless assaults on their supplies had taken a heavy toll.

“An army that’s hundreds of times larger than ours can’t do a thing! Victory is within our grasp,” another mage added.

Everyone agreed. The mood in the room grew euphoric at the thought of impending victory. Some clenched their fists in triumph, others were on the verge of tears, overcome with emotion. Everyone was reveling in the anticipation of victory—everyone except Binaeril.

“Binaeril, if you act as the bait again and distract them like you did last time, they’ll fall back for sure,” Priya suggested.

“You don’t have to fight Yunnaeril. Just do what you did before. Distract him and then escape,” another mage encouraged.

“Do you really think he’ll fall for the same trick twice?” Binaeril asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

“What are you talking about? This is the third time, not the second!” 

Laughter erupted around the room, but Binaeril couldn’t shake his uneasy feeling. The Order’s supplies were dwindling, their morale was shattered, and Elfenbine had suffered no losses. The enemy had no effective means of countering their assaults. Victory seemed to be within reach.

‘So why do I feel so uneasy?’ Binaeril thought to himself.

He agreed with the others that a final blow was needed to force the Order into retreat. They needed to strike decisively to end this.

“We’ll form the strike teams and prepare our magic thoroughly. Let’s turn their camp into a sea of fire!”

Binaeril knew he was the best choice to draw Yunnaeril’s attention. He was the only one who could distract Yunnaeril and then escape. 

“Let’s show them what it really means to go to war with Elfenbine!” someone shouted.

“Yeah!” the others cheered, their voices hushed to avoid detection.

The real Elfenbine tower was so close to the enemy camp that they could practically reach out and touch it, yet it remained hidden, undetected by the enemy’s sentries. But they couldn’t afford to let their guard down or make too much noise.

“Shh!”

The mages stifled their excitement, exchanging quiet congratulations instead. 

‘It’s just a passing worry,’ Binaeril tried to reassure himself. ‘One last push. Just one more time.’

Forcing himself to join in the celebration, Binaeril raised his glass, trying to ignore the gnawing sense of foreboding. Their strategy was perfect. 

And so, the final operation of Elfenbine began.