Pushing the question aside, he focused entirely on the dense text. Minutes ticked by in absolute silence.
"So, in the end, it all boils down to absolute secrecy and servitude," he whispered under his breath, stretching his stiff arms over his head.
He stared blankly up at the ceiling, falling into deep thought. The terms were harsh but clear: he would be granted supernatural power—specifically, a spark of 'Origin Fire'—to act as a shadow manager.
He would do the dirty work in total secrecy, navigating a harsh world where almost everyone was treated as a disposable prisoner, all to elevate and manage his master's champion.
'This sounds like endless trouble,' he complained inwardly, massaging his temples.
Yet, despite the looming danger, there wasn't an ounce of true fear or worry in his heart. The contract explicitly mentioned the "Origin Fire."
According to the text, this meant the magical power would inherently grow and evolve with him over time. He would have to adapt to it quickly, or the flames would consume him from the inside out, but the sheer potential was intoxicating.
The exact nature of the abilities he would receive wasn't described—the document stated it depended entirely on his luck and soul compatibility.
'If this gives me even one chance to defy my current fate and uncover who I truly am, I can't let it go to waste.'
With a fierce, determined gaze fixed on the signature line, the boy brought his thumb to his mouth and bit down hard on the pad of his finger.
"Ouch," he hissed.
Ignoring the sharp sting, he pressed his bleeding thumb firmly onto the thick parchment, leaving a perfect crimson print on the dotted line.
'It's done.' He let out a long breath of relief.
But the relief was incredibly short-lived. The heavy stack of documents suddenly vibrated, lifting off the wooden desk to hover directly in front of his eyes.
"Whoa... it's a success!" he gasped.
Suddenly, a brilliant blue flame ignited at the right corner of the parchment. The fire rapidly consumed the pages, turning the binding contract into glowing ashes that dissolved into thin air.
The exact moment the last ash vanished, a catastrophic, splitting headache slammed into the boy's skull.
"Aaagh!" he screamed, violently clutching his head. "There was absolutely nothing in the contract about this!"
His muscles locked up in agonizing tension as thick beads of sweat rapidly formed on his forehead.
'It feels like my brain is burning!' he thought in pure panic.
Drip! Sweat poured from his face, completely soaking his newly provided clothes.
"My head... make it stop!" he gasped, desperately trying to maintain his grip on reality.
But as the seconds ticked by, the supernatural torment only escalated. He collapsed out of the leather chair, hitting the floor hard.
He writhed and thrashed against the stone tiles, curling himself into a tight, agonizing ball. Dark blood began to leak slowly from his eyes and ears, staining the pristine floor.
Gradually, his violent writhing slowed. The sheer, overwhelming power of the Origin Fire shattered his physical resistance, forcing his consciousness to completely surrender to the pain.
Soon, the boy lay entirely motionless on the cold floor, completely unconscious. His body gave off occasional, involuntary twitches, his fingernails dug so deeply into his own knees that they drew blood.
Creak! The heavy door swung open, and the butler stepped calmly back into the room. His cold, emotionless eyes swept over the bloodied, unconscious boy. He didn't show a single ounce of surprise at the inhumane torture the child had just endured.
"Come in," the butler commanded sharply.
Two masked soldiers stepped out from the hallway, standing rigidly at attention behind him.
"Bring him down to the operating chamber."
The butler turned his gaze away and promptly exited the office. The two soldiers exchanged a brief, hidden glance. A flicker of genuine pity flashed in their eyes, but they quickly steeled their hearts against it. Scooping up the boy's limp, bleeding body, they marched out to follow their orders.
…
Moments later, in a secluded command room.
"Sir, the boy has been successfully sent to the operating chamber," the butler reported, a soft, chilling smile playing on his lips as he addressed the young soldier.
The soldier stood staring out a large glass window.
"Good. Since he willingly signed the blood contract, it means he was already mentally prepared to face lethal challenges. However, in reality, life-and-death crises always arrive unexpectedly. He must bear this brutal initiation to properly temper his body and mind for what is to come."
"Understood, Sir."
"And Butler?" the soldier added, his voice dropping to a ruthless whisper. "Do not show him a single shred of mercy during his physical preparation."
The butler bowed deeply. Absolute silence permeated the grand hall, exuding a heavy, suffocating coldness that could freeze any mortal soul.
"How do you feel?" a cold, steady voice echoed through the stone room.
Sam blinked his eyes open, his vision swimming for a moment before focusing on the vaulted ceiling of the operating chamber.
He slowly pushed himself up from the cold slab. The agonizing, mind-shattering pain that had previously consumed him was completely gone. In its place, a surging, boundless energy coursed violently through his veins.
"I don't know yet," Sam rasped, his throat dry. "But I feel... stronger. Like I'm filled with some kind of terrifying euphoria. I feel completely refreshed."
The head butler stepped forward, a rare, approving glint in his emotionless eyes, and patted the young boy heavily on the shoulder.
"You have survived the crucible," the butler stated. "You have passed the ultimate hurdle. You are now officially eligible to wield the Origin Fire in service to His Majesty."
"Hmm." Sam nodded slowly. He knew better than anyone just how close his soul had come to being entirely incinerated during that torture.
"Take a good rest. Your real work begins tomorrow." The butler turned to one of the armored, masked soldiers standing guard by the door. "Take him to his quarters."
"Follow me," the soldier instructed.
Sam fell into step behind the guard. As he walked through the opulent stone corridors, his azure eyes flickered with intense thought.
They soon stopped before a heavy wooden door. "This is your room," the soldier grunted.
"Got it. I'll handle things from here," Sam replied.