From the very beginning, Baston knew the plan was dangerous, yet the danger alone had never been the problem. The real problem was the unpredictability.
Claire's sudden appearance had introduced exactly that moment.
The woman from the Versance family had appeared without warning and she placed an invisible hand over Baston's future. Joining the Versance family would grant power, protection, and influence but it would also restrict his freedom.
In the meantime, he valued the freedom more than anything.
The old book still had many unfinished quests that were waiting for him. Some were simple while the others were deadly. A few might even threaten his life if he failed them.
If he entered the Versance household now, those quests would become far more complicated. In the end, he could not allow that.
At the very least, he needed time. The time to complete the most dangerous quest and the time to kill Levan. Until then, he could only stall and the tomorrow's competition would give him that opportunity.
*****
The magic competition resumed the next morning as if nothing unusual had happened.
The chaos from the previous rounds seemed to have only fueled the audience's excitement.
The students filled the arena stands, the nobles occupied the upper platforms, and the servants ran back and forth carrying several refreshments while the whispers spread through the crowd like a wildfire.
Everyone was waiting since the first and second rounds had been explosive. The spectators were hungry for more.
To them, the earlier battles had only been appetizers. Now, the main course finally came.
From the participant area, Baston watched the crowd with a faint bitter smile. For the spectators, this was their entertainment. For him, it was the strategy.
In order to gain Levan's trust, he had to keep winning.
The merchant valued the usefulness above everything else. A weak wizard would never attract the interest but winning too much would create another problem which was too much attention.
If he became the champion, he would inevitably step into the spotlight. The nobles would begin asking the questions and the curious families would start investigating him.
A poor who rose too fast always attracted the suspicion. Because of that, he targeted a runner-up since that position was perfect.
It was impressive enough to gain Levan's trust but it was not glorious enough to threaten the noble pride. It was a delicate balance.
More importantly, it would also convince Claire that his value wouldn't be too extraordinary. After all, the woman had already shown interest in recruiting him. If he continued to perform well, she would only become more determined.
Once he walked that road, escaping her influence would become extremely difficult. However, that was a problem for later.
For now, he only needed to finish the quest. Once he obtained enough information and trust from Levan, he would strike and everything would change.
*****
"Next match!" the announcer's voice echoed across the arena.
Baston blinked since he had been thinking so deeply that he barely noticed the match list of being announced. Apparently, his turn had already arrived.
Across the arena, a young noble stepped forward. He did not recognize him but the boy clearly recognized him.
The noble sneered, "Baston, your winning streak ends here."
His voice carried the arrogant confidence, "I'll make sure you stop in this round."
Baston looked at him for a moment then he shrugged, "Alright..."
That single word almost made the noble choke. The bell rang and the duel soon began.
Baston stepped onto the stone floor and immediately felt something off. Something that had nothing to do with his opponent.
The air was the same, the noise was the same, and the crowd was still shouting for the blood and spectacle. Yet today, the eyes felt different.
Baston's gaze swept across the stands in a slow arc.
The students leaned forward with hungry expressions, eager for spells to explode. The noble youths watched with crossed arms, pretending indifference while secretly tracking every movement. Mixed among them were some faces that didn't fit the arena's rhythm. There were men and women who weren't cheering, whispering, and reacting at the right moment.
They were still and observant. Their focus wasn't on the duel since it was on him. A cold sensation crept along his spine.
For the briefest moment, he saw a woman in a pale veil near the upper platform. Her outline was blurred by the distance but the posture was just like any noble women.
Baston blinked once but the woman was gone. He wondered whether it was his own imagination or not.
The old book remained silent inside his robe but he could almost feel it was breathing, waiting, and watching as if it enjoyed the moments like this. The mystery was never just the contract and never just the competition.
The mystery was the way that the invisible forces kept tightening around him.
Whether it was Claire, Levan, the academy, and even the crowd, everyone wanted something. The worst part was that he still didn't know what the old book truly was.
Was it a blessing or a curse in the end?
Meanwhile, Baston's opponent misread his pause as the fear.
The noble boy lifted his chin, "What? You are not so confident now?"
Baston didn't answer and he glanced at the arena floor instead.
There were the faint scorch marks from yesterday's spells but among them, he noticed something else. There were thin lines that were carved into the stone which he didn't happen to see before.
He blinked and closed his eyes for a few seconds before the lines disappeared. Once again, he wondered if his imagination already fooled him. Somehow, a chill ran through him.
The bell rang again, urging the match forward.
Baston lifted his hands slowly and formed ice in his palm. However, behind his calm expression, his mind moved faster than the crowd could imagine.
The experience he got today was unfamiliar but he still couldn't pinpoint it exactly. In the end, he sighed and continued moving forward.
*****
From Baston's perspective, the battle was underwhelming.
The opponent was stronger than the previous contestants but the difference was still obvious. He could have ended the fight within thirty seconds but he didn't. Instead, he deliberately slowed the pace.
The ice magic clashed with fire spells and the mana rippled across the arena floor. The two boys exchanged the attacks while the crowd roared with excitement.
To the spectators, it looked like a tense struggle. To Baston, it was a theater.
He carefully extended the fight until half the time limit passed before delivering the finishing strike. The noble boy collapsed and he soon gained a victory, making another win.
The audience erupted in cheers but he only sighed inwardly. The more he won, the deeper he stepped into Levan's net.
*****
Inside the VIP viewing room, Levan clapped enthusiastically. The merchant's eyes sparkled with excitement.
At first, he had only planned to attend the first and final rounds but Baston had ruined that plan or perhaps, improved it. Round after round, the fat boy kept surprising him.
In the first round, Baston had played defensively, hiding behind the layers of ice magic until the perfect opportunity appeared before he struck. It was clean, efficient, and unexpected.
In the second round, he faced six opponents simultaneously.
Levan had expected a humiliating defeat. Instead, Baston calmly regained the control of the battlefield and advanced.
Yesterday had been the most interesting where the noble boy had taken the top position and Baston quietly secured his advancement. It was such a brilliant strategy.
Levan understood exactly what Baston had done.
He had allowed the nobles to win. By doing so, he avoided provoking them. At the same time, he preserved his own position.
For the result, the noble boy was satisfied with his victory. But few minutes later, they began arguing among themselves because only one could advance. While they fought with each other, Baston disappeared from their attention entirely.
Levan had laughed out loud when he realized it. This boy was just like him. He was a survivor among the harsh society.
Levan had spent his entire life walking carefully around the nobles. Every step had to be precise and every word had to be humble.
Offend a noble once and everything could collapse. Eventually, he bowed, he smiled, and he swallowed the insults. It was slow but it kept him alive and it made him rich.
Watching Baston navigate the arena of politics reminded Levan of himself. He needed to avoid unnecessary enemies and win without being hated. It was the smartest path.
Levan leaned back in his chair, "Yes… He's perfect."
*****
When Baston won again, Levan stood and applauded loudly. His assistant glanced at him with surprise since he rarely displayed such open excitement.
The merchant's smile widened and he felt he had already made his decision.
"Prepare the magic contract."
The assistant froze, "Sir… Are you sure?"
"Yes…"
Levan's voice became firm, "I cannot wait any longer."
He turned his gaze toward the arena, "That boy will soon become the star of this competition."
His eyes narrowed slightly, "If I delay, someone else will recruit him."
The assistant hesitated, "What if he refuses?"
Levan chuckled, "He won't…"
The merchant's confidence was absolute, "Show him enough money and he'll agree."
In Levan's mind, Baston was still a poor student and such poor person would always chase the wealth.
*****
After the match, Baston returned to his room to rest. The battle had not exhausted him physically but he still felt mentally tense.
There were still several rounds left before the final but he had already decided something. He would withdraw before reaching the championship match. Winning by accident would be troublesome after all.
He leaned against the chair and closed his eyes. Just for a moment, multiple knocks came from the door by then.
"Knock… knock… knock…"
Baston's eyes snapped open. Without hesitation, he activated the book. His body dissolved into the mist and disappeared inside the ancient pages.
A puppet quickly emerged, shifting and transforming until it perfectly resembled Baston. The only difference was subtle since the puppet looked slightly less tired.
Claire's surprise visit earlier had taught him a valuable lesson that he should never meet the dangerous people directly.
The puppet soon walked to the door, "Who is it?"
A polite voice answered, "I'm the assistant of Sir Levan."
The puppet tilted its head, "Why are you here?"
"My lord wishes to meet you..."
"For what?"
"I'm afraid I don't know…"
It was a lie and Baston immediately recognized it. This assistant had accompanied Levan during every meeting. There was no way he knew nothing. Even though so, he played along.
"Alright…"
The door opened, and soon, the assistant led Baston through the merchant district. Instead of returning to the warehouse office, they headed toward a building behind it.
Baston frowned slightly. When they entered, he understood why. The interior looked nothing like a merchant's workplace. It resembled a noble mansion.
The jewels glittered along the walls, the expensive furniture filled the rooms, and the rare paintings hung between the golden candle holders. Such luxury overflowed everywhere.
Baston's eyes narrowed and he quickly found something was wrong.
Even if Levan was the academy's exclusive supplier, this level of wealth was excessive. The cost of maintaining many employees alone should consume a massive portion of his revenue.
The expense of raw materials, transportation, and storage would be accumulated into something big. Such business expenses were endless.
In the end, where did the extra money come from?
A disturbing thought soon surfaced. Perhaps, it could be earned from excessive robbery, extortion, and illegal trade. Something dark that supported Levan's necessities.
Baston's hands slowly clenched. If the puppet had not been here instead of his real body, he might have revealed his killing intent.
He forced himself to calm down. His emotion would only ruin the opportunity. Step by step, they approached the final room.
The assistant knocked, "Sir, Baston has arrived."
A voice came from inside, "Let him in…"
The door soon opened. Levan sat behind a large wooden desk. His smile looked warm, too warm for something he had done toward the people.
"Baston, welcome…"
The assistant locked the door behind them. The small click sound echoed loudly in Baston's ears. It was just like a subtle trap. The puppet then slowly took a seat.
Baston felt his real heart beating faster inside the book. Something important was about to happen.
"Sir Levan…" Baston said politely, "I heard you wanted to see me?"
Levan folded his hands, "Yes..."
The merchant leaned forward slightly, "During today's match, I realized something."
He paused, "You are very talented and talent always attracts the attention."
His eyes sharpened, "If someone else recruits you first, I would regret it."
The assistant stepped forward and placed a document on the table, "This is a magic contract for you…"
Levan smiled gently, "Sign it and you will officially work with me."
Baston picked up the paper and he read carefully. At first glance, the contract looked generous. It included the payment, support, and opportunities. But then, he saw the key line which was absolute loyalty.
He must assist Levan whenever he was called and he must never harm him. The violation would cost his life.
Baston chuckled quietly since the trap was obvious yet the contract also had loopholes. There were a few of them and Baston needed exactly that.
Without hesitation, the puppet picked up the pen and Levan watched eagerly. When the signature was signed, the contract floated into the air.
The magic seals glowed briefly before the paper returned to Levan's hands.
For a moment, the silence filled the room and then, Levan smiled wider. Inside his heart, he was laughing. Baston was even easier to manipulate than he expected.
Soon and very soon, everything would belong to him.
What Levan didn't know was that Baston had signed the contract with a puppet. Somewhere hidden within the old book, the real him slowly smiled.
It was not him to be the foolish one. It would be always the opponent.