The Contract

Hevilon.

The largest slum in the Crusif Duchy.

Violent criminals, drug addicts, debtors, serial killers, pedophiles, human traffickers — every kind of scum from the eastern Empire washed up here. A place regarded as lawless in all but name, where dozens dying in a single day was simply ordinary.

Into the deepest underground chamber at the very heart of that Hevilon, a boy stepped inside.

"Master."

The one who greeted him with a demure bow was a black-haired girl of extraordinary beauty.

"Everything is ready."

"Good work."

Leon answered with a satisfied smile. The girl quietly shut the door and withdrew.

Creeeak. Thud.

Confirming the door was closed, Leon turned his gaze to the state of the room.

A massive ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠inverted pentagram drawn in blood. At each point of the star sat a gemstone radiating a luminous glow. The jewels — also known as Soul-Anchoring Stones — each held hundreds of souls, dyed a deeper red than ever before. Beyond that, the grimoires stacked against the walls and the oppressive gloom packing every corner of the chamber made it unmistakably clear that a dark ritual was underway here.

Clap. Clap.

"Perfect! Absolutely perfect!"

Leon clapped twice in satisfaction. Drawing the dagger at his waist, he approached the pentagram.

Ssslick.

He extended his left arm and dragged the blade across his palm. Blood dripped steadily onto the magic circle painted at the center. The pentagram drank his blood, flared crimson in every direction, and began to activate.

Rrrrrumble!

An immense pressure crushed down on the space. The entire basement shuddered as if in an earthquake, dirt sifting down from the ceiling in soft cascades.

"Oooooooh!!"

Leon, far from rattled, only grew more excited.

Crrrack!

A fissure tore open in the air at the center of the pentagram, as though space itself had been ripped apart. Black mist billowed up from within. The rising smoke twisted and tangled together, knitting itself into a shape.

A man's upper body packed dense with sculpted muscle. But the skin was not flesh-colored — it was dark crimson. Instead of clothing, wounds were carved across his entire body like tattoos. Of the two magnificent horns crowning his head, one was sheared off at a slant, roughly halfway down.

"Human. Did you call for me?"

His name was Bergopf. The Devil of the Sword.

The stronger you are, the freer you live.

With power, you can do whatever you want and refuse whatever you don't. No one oppresses you — you oppress them instead. On twenty-first-century Earth that power was money. In the world Leon had been reborn into, it meant raw, physical might.

Money still mattered here, of course. But the fact remained: a strong man outranked a rich man every time. In a world of superhumans who could level mountains and cleave the sky, force always came first.

So for the past six months, Leon had focused on one thing — recovering his combat power. Possessing the body of a Sword Expert did not mean he could freely wield that strength. Until recently he had been a modern man; simply picking up a sword changed nothing.

If it doesn't work, make it work.

Drawing on the knowledge in his head and the residual muscle memory in his body, Leon trained relentlessly. It was never boring. Handling mana, moving the body, swinging a blade — wasn't that every man's dream? Using pure enjoyment as fuel, he rapidly learned to control mana and master swordsmanship. He devoted at least eight hours a day to training. Within a single month he had recovered the level the original Leon Crusif had reached —

"Still not enough."

Catching up to a predetermined mark was all it was. Improvement stalled almost immediately. At this rate, he was hopelessly short. Elprime Academy, which he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would enter soon, was a stage of pure chaos. To survive there — and to paint the picture he wanted — he needed far greater power.

Compared to the protagonist, sure, the original Leon Crusif had been lacking. But his talent for the sword had been exceptional. Kim Jeon-woo, of course, had no such gift. He possessed a body honed over years, yes — but inside it was not Leon Crusif. It was a Korean named Kim Jeon-woo. His talent with a blade was neither prodigy, genius, nor savant. Just average.

"Well. I expected that."

Leon had never once hoped he would possess outstanding talent. He already had a solution prepared.

Bergopf, the Devil of the Sword. A demon who granted skill to swordsmen who had hit a wall and fallen into despair — in exchange for their souls. He was the same being who had appeared before the original Leon Crusif. The price was brutal, but Bergopf's power delivered guaranteed results. In the original story, Leon Crusif — empowered by Bergopf — had briefly set foot in the realm of Sword Master.

Leon resolved to summon that Bergopf through sacrifice and ritual. And he chose to do the work in Hevilon, a place where anything could happen without raising eyebrows. That was why he had spent the past six months coming and going through Hevilon as if it were his own backyard.

Back to the present — the moment Leon met Bergopf.

Having answered the summons, Bergopf surveyed his surroundings and slightly scowled.

"You scraped together nothing but the lowest-grade souls."

The filthy souls of violent criminals ranked as bottom-tier goods among demons — the difference between a pure saintess's soul and a street addict's was that vast.

"I packed the quantity tight instead, didn't I?"

Leon answered Bergopf's complaint without a flicker of concern. One hundred souls per Soul-Anchoring Stone. Five hundred human souls in total — even low quality, that was a volume worth salivating over. A number only possible because this was Hevilon.

"Anyway — pleasure to meet you!"

Leon's eyes sparkled as he genuinely welcomed the demon. Meeting a devil. One item on the bucket list he'd written since arriving in this world was just being checked off.

"…"

Faced with that cheerful energy, Bergopf felt genuine bewilderment for the first time in several centuries. The humans he usually encountered fell into two types: those hollowed out by desperation to break through a wall, and those whose eyes had gone wild with vengeance and rage. But this one…

"This is a real devil!! The big shots of the Demon Realm!!"

A lunatic.

Bergopf reached a short conclusion. Lunatics had a different look in their eyes from the first glance. This one's mind was clearly twisted somewhere. Summoning a devil in the first place was hardly the act of a sane person. Occasionally there were humans who summoned him directly like this — but the moment they faced him, the devil's overwhelming presence usually crushed them into silence.

"Wooooooah!!"

…Not leaping around like a monkey seeing fire for the first time.

Still. That soul is to my liking.

To make a deal, you inspect the other party's goods first, don't you? Checking the soul Leon had set on the trading table, Bergopf smacked his lips. That soul blazed high and brilliant, like a sun. The primal demonic hunger to claim a powerful soul stirred inside him. It was on a completely different level from the souls he'd just consumed for the summoning ritual. Those melted away like candy in moments. A soul obtained through contract could be held for as long as he wished. That was why demons appeared before humans and pushed contracts so eagerly.

"Human. Do you desire power?"

"That's right."

The moment business came up, Leon immediately reined in his excitement.

"Hmph. Talent like yours is considered remarkable among humans, is it not?"

Rare praise left Bergopf's mouth. Compared to the swordsmen he had faced until now, reaching that level at that age was genuinely solid talent.

But Leon answered with a wide, greedy smile.

"Nowhere near enough."

"What? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hahahahahaha!!"

Apparently pleased by the answer, Bergopf burst into booming laughter.

"Good! If you're going to take up the sword, you need that kind of greed!"

…Of course, Leon had said it because his talent genuinely was lacking — but Bergopf had no way of knowing that.

"Fine. For someone of your caliber, I'll specially take you as my subordinate."

Bergopf raised his hand at once to seal the contract. Leon stopped him.

"Hold on a second."

"Hm?"

"I don't need anything that excessive. Give me the version with no side effects. All I want is talent with the sword. That's it."

"…What?"

Had he misheard? Bergopf blinked, dumbfounded — then fury erupted.

Gwooooooh!

Dark crimson demonic energy unfurled from him like thrashing tentacles.

"You dare negotiate with me?"

Bergopf poured out his presence, intending to educate the insolent human. Even having crossed into the human world in spiritual form, that much was well within his power.

"In exchange."

Even as the demonic energy surged toward him, Leon didn't so much as blink.

"Mazias."

"…!?"

"I'll let you catch him."

Bergopf reeled back the power he had been about to unleash.

"You… what do you know?"

"Who knows. Mazias — that he's the enemy you want to hunt down and kill. That much?"

"…"

Leon fixed his gaze steadily on Bergopf's severed horn.

"Agree to my terms for the contract, and I'll deliver Mazias to you within the year."

Bergopf's mind reeled. During a contract, one could look into and feel the other party's soul. Lying in that state was instantly exposed. Right now, this human was not spouting a single scrap of bluff or falsehood. All that came through was absolute conviction.

…Is he serious?

Catch Mazias — that slippery, elusive bastard. He had pursued him for decades and never even caught a glimpse of his tail. Believing a mere human's guarantee was absurd… but Bergopf wanted that kill more desperately than he wanted to dismiss it.

The deliberation was not long. Taking it as a gamble worth the risk, Bergopf made his decision.

"…Very well. But if it does not go as you claim — your soul is mine immediately."

"Deal."

Even under Bergopf's murderous threat, Leon just grinned ear to ear.

"…"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Bergopf glared at him a moment longer, clearly displeased — then extended a hand and fired a formless current of energy.

Shuuuuk!

The energy shot straight into Leon's chest and bound itself to his soul.

The contract was sealed.

A devil's talent that pushed sword sense to its extreme. A contract with a demon holding a soul as collateral. And if the conditions were met — no side effects. No descent into a madman eroded by negative emotion, the way the original Leon had fallen. No becoming Bergopf's subordinate and rampaging through the human world at his whim.

The corner of Leon's mouth curled high.

"Nice."

Devils really did handle contracts cleanly, didn't they? Considering they never lied, they were better than most humans.

Leaving the ruined pentagram behind — the summoning ritual complete — Leon stepped out of the chamber. The girl was still waiting in the exact same posture as when he had entered.

"Master, you worked hard."

She held out a heavy pouch.

"These are the assets converted into hard currency."

"Hmm."

Leon counted the platinum coins inside, then tore off half and held them out to the girl.

"This much is enough for me."

"…"

"You've got plenty of things to spend money on now. Take it."

She wanted to refuse immediately — but knowing Leon hated repeating himself, she accepted without a word.

"Aria."

Leon bent down so he could look straight into her blue eyes. He repeated something he had told her before, driving it home once more.

"I'll say it again… You can serve me as your master, or you can take that money and leave whenever you want. But."

He reached out and brushed the leather choker around Aria's neck.

"Betrayal is not an option. Understood?"

Looking into those gleaming red eyes of his —

"Master."

— Aria smiled a bright, sweet smile. From the day he had pulled her out of that hell, she had sworn to follow him.

"Of course."

A flush colored her face as she answered. Her hand tenderly stroked the choker.

"…Good."

Leon took a slight step back. A madman recognizes another madman. In her, he felt a different breed of madness from his own.

"…"

"…"

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, then exchanged their farewells.

"Well then. See you later."

"Yes, Master."

At the Academy.