Chapter 25: Retainers and the Contracts
Under the veil of deep twilight, long shadows danced erratically across the steep rooftops as Leornars moved with swift, silent grace, skillfully avoiding the attention of the night patrol guards. Two distinct figures trailed closely behind him.
The first was radiant and remarkably sharp in appearance—Bellian, his loyal shadow knight, adorned in dark metal-coated trousers and a silver-plated, long-sleeved shirt. His jet-black hair shimmered faintly under the pale moonlight, and his twin blades—a broad longsword strapped across his back and a slender katana resting at his waist—clinked together with a soft, rhythmic ring as he kept pace.
Trailing farther behind was the towering inferno wolf, Ascian. Sporting jet-black fur, menacing crimson glowing eyes, and an unsettlingly calm demeanor, the beast nonchalantly dragged a half-conscious young man through the dirt by his shirt collar.
That young man was none other than Zaryter Daternmum.
Far away, within the quiet, elegant halls of the Theocracy of Lurtra Castle, Stacian Von Gremoriah sat alone in the main dining chamber. Silver moonlight spilled through the tall stained-glass windows, illuminating her form as she sipped warm coffee while meticulously poring over regional financial documents and agricultural plantation records.
Her peaceful routine was abruptly shattered by a loud, echoing thud coming directly from the castle's main entrance corridor.
Her crimson eyes narrowed instantly.
She set her porcelain cup down with practiced, aristocratic elegance. In a fraction of a second, her body vanished into thin air via *Shadow Movement*—blitzing through the grand halls at a blinding Mach 8 speed.
She materialized in the main corridor, her hand instinctively gripping a sharp, heavy silver kitchen knife. But what met her eyes made her freeze mid-stance.
"...My Lord?"
Leornars stood there with his usual cold composure, casually tossing Zaryter's limp, battered body onto the polished floorboards like a sack of grain.
"Heal him," Leornars ordered flatly, wiping a speck of dust from his sleeve. "He's useless to me if he dies from blood loss."
Stacian blinked in mild surprise, lowering her knife slightly. "Isn't this the exact same clown I slapped across the face last time?"
"His name is Zaryter Daternmum," Leornars replied, stepping past the body. "He possesses something I want."
With a raised eyebrow but asking no further questions, Stacian dropped to one knee and began casting high-tier healing magic over the unconscious assassin. A soothing, gentle green light enveloped Zaryter's torso, closing his open lacerations and instantly steadying his ragged breathing.
Zaryter groaned softly as consciousness slowly flooded back into his mind. He opened his eyes, blinking in utter confusion. The high, vaulted ceiling, the shimmering crystal chandeliers, the polished marble walls—this was definitely not the dingy Black Acer hideout he remembered.
He turned his head to the side—and suddenly let out a high-pitched yelp.
"Aaaaahh! Get away from me, you creep!" he shouted, scrambling backward and frantically clutching his dragonian tail, which Leornars had been casually examining with an analytical eye.
"...Creep?" Leornars repeated, blinking in genuine, uncharacteristic confusion.
"Shout later. Heal first," Stacian said coolly, casually handing the dazed assassin a bowl of fresh water.
Still severely disoriented, Zaryter looked up at Leornars, his voice raspy. "Why... why didn't you just kill me where I fell?"
Leornars folded his arms over his chest and sat on a nearby stone bench with effortless, practiced grace. "Because you are useful to my grand strategy. If you truly have no desire to live for yourself... then dedicate that remaining life to me."
Zaryter froze dead in his tracks.
The overwhelming weight of those words hit him far harder than any physical blade ever could. His face faltered, caught in a agonizing struggle between sheer disbelief, lingering sorrow, and faint hope.
"I... I don't even know what to say to that."
"It's just a simple choice between a 'Yes' or a 'Yes'," Stacian chimed in from the side, a sly, dangerous smirk curving her lips.
Leornars glanced over at her, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. *Why is she actively encouraging him? Is she intentionally trying to stack more loyal retainers onto my personal roster? What's her hidden angle here...?*
"...I can't do it," Zaryter muttered, his head dropping as his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Huh?" Stacian blinked, her confident expression slipping.
"The Black Acers... they promised to cure my little sister if I successfully brought Leornars back to them alive," Zaryter confessed, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists against the floor.
"Cure her?" Stacian asked, her tone sharpening. "From what?"
"She has been stricken with the Trilulial Curse," Zaryter whispered, tears of frustration welling in his eyes. "Only pure-blooded Dryiands possess the authority to cleanse it... and they are virtually extinct, nearly impossible to find anywhere in this realm."
At those words, a sudden spark ignited within Leornars' mind.
*Dryiands... where have I heard that term before?*
Leornars closed his eyes, delving deep into his vast, encyclopedic memory banks, sifting through every single interaction he had experienced since his reawakening. Then, like a bolt of lightning, the memory of their very first conversation resurfaced with vivid clarity.
*—"My name is Stacian Von Gremoriah. I am a Dryiand."—*
Leornars opened his eyes, a cool, calculated glint dancing in his gaze.
"If I were to completely heal your sister... would you pledge your absolute loyalty and serve me?"
Zaryter's head snapped up, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. Pure, unadulterated hope flooded his tear-stained face.
"I... I would gladly give my very life for you!"
"Good," Leornars smirked faintly, the corners of his lips twitching upward. "Because my chief retainer right here—Stacian Von Gremoriah—happens to be a pure-blooded Dryiand."
Stacian took a step forward, shedding her illusionary guise. In a blinding flash of atmospheric mana, her pair of sharp black horns and two ethereal, shimmering dark wings burst into full view behind her.
Zaryter practically choked on his own breath, almost fainting on the spot from sheer shock.
"An... an actual, living Dryiand?!"
Overcome with frantic emotion, he tried to leap to his feet—only to instantly collapse back onto the floor with a painful groan.
"Don't fret," Stacian said with an excessively sweet, mocking smile. "I fully closed your lethal wounds. But per Lord Leornars' standing orders, I left the nerve pain intact."
Zaryter let out a miserable groan, holding his side. "Seriously...?"
A short while later, the trio walked out into the secluded castle courtyard beneath the star-studded night sky.
Stacian dropped to one knee upon the soft soil, taking a small silver needle and pricking the tip of her index finger. A single, glowing drop of crimson blood fell onto the grass.
Leornars stepped forward and followed suit, letting his own blood mix with hers upon the earth.
*WHIRR—!*
A radiant, blood-red magic crest erupted beneath their feet, intricate and complex ancient symbols spinning rapidly in concentric circles around their bodies.
Zaryter stood off to the side, watching the ritual in stunned, speechless awe. *A Gremoriah and an Avantris... ultimate light and absolute darkness... forming a soul bond? That's... that should be fundamentally impossible. Those two ancient races are sworn, ancestral enemies...*
As the ritual peaked, a sudden flood of memories rushed directly into Leornars' mind—he saw Stacian's tragic past, her millennia of forced servitude, her deep physical pain, and her overwhelming, agonizing loneliness. He experienced it all in a heartbeat. Meanwhile, Stacian winced violently, a thin trickle of blood running from her nose as her mind was exposed to the terrifying, hyper-complex, and fragmented dark abyss of Leornars' inner psyche.
A glowing red crest permanently etched itself onto the back of Leornars' right hand. Simultaneously, a matching crimson crest bloomed brightly just above Stacian's chest.
"...The master-retainer contract is established," Stacian whispered weakly, wiping the blood from her face.
Zaryter stepped forward next, swallowing hard as he knelt before Leornars. The exact same ancient ritual repeated itself. As their souls temporarily linked, Leornars felt the full weight of Zaryter's silent grief, his crushing emotional burdens, and the desperate, unrelenting drive to protect his young sister at all costs.
A bright, glowing blue magic crest etched itself permanently onto the side of Zaryter's neck.
"The contract is complete," Stacian confirmed, her voice steadying.
Leornars stumbled slightly, his vision swimming with sensory overload. He moved over to a nearby decorative stone, heavily sitting down as his mind spun from the staggering influx of new power and soul-bound data.
*DING!*
> **[System Alert: Multiple Soul-Contract Skills Unlocked]**
> * **New Skill Unlocked:** *[Purgatory]*
> * **New Skill Unlocked:** *[The Sage]*
> * **New Skill Unlocked:** *[Light Magic]*
> * **New Skill Unlocked:** *[Healing Magic]*
> * **New Skill Unlocked:** *[Threads of Abstract]*
> * **New Skill Unlocked:** *[Phantom Illusion]*
> * **New Skill Unlocked:** *[Gate Keeper]*
> * **New Skill Unlocked:** *[Fire Bolt]*
> **[Current Status Updated]**
> * **Level:** 32
> * **Base Speed:** Mach 9
> * **Physical Authority:** *City-Level Lifting Strength Unlocked*
> * **Cognitive Processing:** *Precognitive Thought (2 Parallel Minds Active)*
>
The resonant system voice echoed through the deep recesses of his consciousness like a gentle, surging tempest of newfound power being born.
A few hours later...
Inside Leornars' private quarters, Stacian was quietly folding her freshly laundered garments on the edge of his bed while he sat at his desk, ink pen in hand, studying tactical maps of the continent.
"My Lord," she spoke softly, breaking the silence. "I have a question."
"I was merely waiting for you to ask it," he replied coldly, not bothering to turn around from his blueprints.
"We could have easily played dumb," Stacian reasoned, smoothing out her shirt. "We could have pretended not to know what a Dryiand was, allowed Zaryter to return to his superiors, and used him as a unwitting tracking beacon to lead us directly to the Black Acers' main stronghold."
"I calculated that variable as well," Leornars admitted, dipping his pen into fresh ink. "However, Zaryter's individual combat strength is quite significant. If we had simply let him walk away... and he ultimately chose to side against us upon returning to them, our strategic odds of survival would have collapsed dramatically. I have already eliminated two of their high-ranking members. There were originally seven... now there are only five."
"So... you are choosing to keep him purely as a combat resource?" Stacian asked.
"Primarily, yes," Leornars said, setting his pen down. "But more than that... I intend to meet his sister in person."
Meanwhile, far to the south in the Kingdom of Durmount...
The newly summoned otherworldly heroes had finally completed their grueling, accelerated military training. Surrounded by roaring crowds, royal cheers, and formal grand farewells, they scattered across the foreign lands in small squads, fully prepared to act as the kingdom's divine guardians.
Among the departing ranks stood one lone, isolated figure—Kyle.
He stood far apart from the celebrating heroes, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, his posture stiff as he watched the others march toward their assigned posts.
Then, without uttering a single word to his commander, Kyle suddenly leaped over the high, fortified castle walls and hit the ground running. He sprinted southward at full speed, his heavy silver armor clattering violently with every violent stride.
"I will slaughter you with my own hands, Leornars..." Kyle growled through gritted teeth, his eyes burning with an unquenchable, psychotic thirst for vengeance. "Just wait for me... I'm coming to kill you."
And without stopping to rest, he sprinted straight toward the sovereign borders of Lurtra.