The First Contract

As a proper Confucian citizen, the honor of serving my ancestor… For a brief, shining moment, my heart swelled with nothing but pure filial piety grounded in the Three Bonds and Five Relationships—not a single thought of free undead labor or unpaid slavery crossed my mind.

Then I hit a wall.

How exactly was I supposed to form a contract?

"Boy, why aren't you answering? Hmm? I said let's make a contract!"

That was about when Vilheim came looking for me.

"Are you awake?"

"…Yes."

Something felt awkward. How to put it? It was like the morning after a drunken night of shouting We're brothers, damn it! and dancing around like a maniac—only now we were both sober and staring at each other.

Vilheim, for his part, looked completely unbothered.

"So… what brings you here?"

"I have to leave on urgent business for a few days."

"Business?"

"Yes. Related to yesterday's intruder. It shouldn't take long—a month at most. Before I go, there's something I wanted to give you."

Apparently he'd already uncovered the force behind the attack. I was curious, but Vilheim clearly had no intention of elaborating.

A gift, though?

I was still puzzled when he reached into his coat and held something out.

"This is…"

"A set of necromancy texts. I meant to give them to you yesterday, but things got rather urgent."

"Then when you went out that night…"

"It was nothing special."

At the very hour he'd encountered the intruder, Vilheim had been on his way back to the estate. I'd wondered where he'd gone that night—turns out he'd left to acquire these books.

I accepted them with genuine gratitude. Then I flinched.

"Um, Brother."

"Speak."

"What happened to the books' previous owner?"

"He's dead."

"…"

There was a reason I'd asked. The pages were stained with blood.

Did he die, or was he killed?

I was betting on the latter. The image of Vilheim from that dawn came flooding back—soaked head to toe in blood as he returned.

"I'll… put them to good use. Thank you."

"Do. And I've already spoken with Sir Valt, so don't neglect your physical training either. With your bloodline talent, proper conditioning should let you stand toe-to-toe with any Non-Bloodline Knight."

"Yes. Thank you for the advice."

"While I'm gone, I leave Falaon in your care."

With that, Vilheim turned and strode away. I watched his back for a moment.

Don't get cocky.

Judging by yesterday and today, his regard for me seemed genuine—but you never really knew.

Anyway.

Necromancy texts, huh…?

"Boy, when are we forming this contract?"

Just a moment. Let me figure out the method first.

"What?"

I locked myself in my room at once and examined the books. There were three volumes in total. The title was On Death, divided into upper, middle, and lower volumes.

I opened the first.

The preface was nothing special. The only detail that stood out was that the parts that seemed to be names had been painted over.

"Find the contract section already."

"Yes."

Under my ancestor's relentless prodding, I flipped through the pages at speed. First came an explanation of what necromancy was.

Contract, contract… Is there nothing on contracts?

I skimmed for the keywords I needed. After a stretch of searching, I found the relevant passage.

"Ah, here it is."

"Give me a moment—I'll read it."

I studied the section carefully. Honestly, I wasn't free of doubt. Even with an exceptional talent, could someone really cast magic after reading a book once?

Fortunately, as it turned out—

"Hmm. The method isn't particularly complicated."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

It felt less like magic and more like a ritual. Probably because, as the book itself noted, this was a "primitive" form of contracting.

According to the text, the requirements were as follows.

First: food the spirit had enjoyed in life.

"Is there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠any food you particularly liked?"

"Food… Wine. I want wine. I used to favor fruit wine brewed from wild grapes."

Good. Wild grape wine it was.

I wrote out the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠list of materials on a scrap of paper and summoned my personal attendant, John.

"Yes, young master. You called for me?"

"Could you get me the things written here?"

"May I check the list first?"

"Go ahead."

John calmly read through the items. After a moment, he looked up.

"None of these should be difficult to obtain. When would you like them by?"

"The sooner the better."

"Understood. I'll be back shortly."

John answered with reassuring competence and hurried out. The reliable John returned about an hour later.

"Hah… hah… Young master, here they are."

"Thank you."

"Is there anything else you need?"

"No, I'm fine. Head back early and rest today."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. You've been run ragged with the Blood Awakening Ceremony and everything else. Oh—and stop by the kitchen, tell them I sent you, and grab some snacks to take home."

"Yes, young master. Thank you. My little sister will be delighted."

I should mention: John was the closest thing I had to a friend on this entire estate. We weren't exactly pouring our hearts out to each other, but at least in my mind, that was how I thought of him.

In any case, the materials were gathered. Time to proceed with the contract.

"We're cutting it close."

I'll hurry.

I opened On Death once more.

In a darkened room with the light shut out, a circle had been drawn at the center of the floor—ink mixed from sulfur, dye, and salt.

Inside that circle, Khtun sat upright with his eyes closed.

The beginning of the contract was simple.

"I, heir to the blood of Falaon, second son of Sahad and firstborn of Viola, Khtun, am present in this place. You who dwell beyond—answer my call."

He defined himself through house and parents, then summoned the spirit. The purpose was to make the caster's existence unmistakably clear.

Now it was the spirit's turn.

"So this is how it's done… Very well. I answer."

"Who are you?"

"He who stood at the beginning of Falaon. I know not the names of my parents, but I was the sword of the Heorn Kingdom, the Dragon Slayer who felled the wild dragon Syrus. My name is Arch."

"Beginning of Falaon. Hero of Heorn. Dragon-slaying knight Arch Falaon. Is there not a single falsehood in these titles?"

"There is none."

"Swear it upon your True Soul, which has ascended to the heavens."

Here, "True Soul" meant the original soul. According to necromancy and theology alike, when a person died, the True Soul rose to the heavens, and only a residual spirit remained in the world.

In other words, the Arch present here was not, strictly speaking, the "true Arch." And a residual spirit—a mere remnant—could not deny its True Soul. Had he spoken a lie, he would have been unable to answer at this step.

Arch replied without difficulty.

"I swear it. There is no falsehood."

"Good. Your truth has been confirmed."

That was when the primitive magic circle began to change.

Tss, tsszzzz—

The circle drawn in sulfur, dye, and salt glowed with a faint light and began to burn. Sensing the shift, Khtun proceeded to the final steps.

"O hero, I entreat you: become my spirit and serve me. If you accept, speak your desire."

"That my power be used for the sake of Falaon."

"I accept."

The light pouring from the magic circle grew fiercer still. One last procedure remained.

"You—receive my offering as the token of this contract."

The "offering" meant food. What had been prepared was the wild grape wine Arch had favored in life.

As a spiritual body, Arch wondered how he was supposed to consume it. Then—

Tss, tsszzzz—

The wine flooded with radiant light. Arch approached as if entranced and reached toward it.

"Ha… This is remarkable."

Sensations that should have been impossible were washing over him. The sweet-tart fragrance of wild grapes filling his mouth. The sharp hit of alcohol brushing the back of his nose.

Arch savored it for a moment, then opened his eyes.

"So it's done, then… Hmm."

When Arch opened his eyes, Khtun was already asleep.

"Collapsed from exhaustion, has he?"

Well, it was understandable. Arch hadn't mentioned it, but forming a contract with a spirit of his caliber was no simple feat. Most necromancers wouldn't even attempt it.

I half expected the contract to fail…

Truly astonishing talent. In necromancy alone, the boy surpassed even Inoxia—once hailed as the greatest mage of their age among Arch's old comrades.

As he marveled at Khtun's gift, something else happened.

Tss, tsszzzz…

"What's this?"

A violet aura rose and coiled around Khtun. There was no mistaking it.

The light of Death's Blessing.

But for the blessing's light to manifest like this? He had never heard of such a case.

No—he had heard of one.

"The Necromancer King…"

The origin of necromancy. The first to awaken Death's Blessing. That being had cast off death itself and become both undying and immortal. According to the historical records, the monster had grown while wrapped in the light of the blessing at irregular intervals.

Did that mean this child possessed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talent comparable to the Necromancer King?

…No. Impossible.

Arch shook his head. Having seen the Necromancer King with his own eyes, he found the notion hard to accept. That existence had been, quite literally, beyond all measure.

But one thing was certain.

"With this child… perhaps…"

Perhaps he could bring a second glory—to Falaon, and to Arch himself.

Khtun woke not long after.

"You're awake?"

"Did the contract go through all right?"

"It did. Cleanly done."

"Whew."

Khtun pressed a hand to his chest, which had been hammering with residual dread. He'd followed the procedure, and the primitive magic circle had activated properly—but still, he'd worried.

"How do you feel?"

"My body? Uh… fine, actually. Light, even."

"Good. Even so, be more careful next time. A contract like this can go badly wrong if something slips. It was fortunate the other party was me—had it been some other spirit, there's no telling what it might have done."

"Yes. I'll keep that in mind."

That warning was written in On Death as well.

Regardless—first contract, successfully completed.

Khtun calmly observed the changes within himself.

The book said you'd feel something…

And sure enough, it was right. How to describe it? Even sitting still, he could sense a tether linking him to his ancestor, Arch.

That wasn't the only change.

"It feels like a set of rooms has appeared inside me."

"Rooms?"

"Yes."

Visualized, it looked something like this:

Five chambers, one of them filled.

What does this mean? That I can only handle five spirits? Or is it the total number of undead I can command?

"It won't be the undead count. A necromancer who awakened something as rare as Death's Blessing being limited to five undead makes no sense."

So the spirit count, then. He still knew too little about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠necromancy to be certain.

That was as far as he could map the changes for now. There was still work to do.

"Next comes making a body."

"A body?"

"Yes. As a pure spirit, there's not much you can actually do."

"Are you sure about this? You only just woke up from collapsing. Don't push yourself too hard. And a boy who didn't even know how to form a contract—how do you plan to build a body?"

Arch was worried, but Khtun shook his head.

"I have a feeling that if I don't do it now, I won't be able to."

"If not now, you won't be able to?"

"Well…"

How to explain it? Ever since waking, something had been itching at the back of his mind—as if an idea were hovering just out of reach. Yes: a kind of inspiration was welling up inside him.

"Just a moment."

Khtun closed his eyes and focused on the sensation within. He meant to take the abstract image as it was and drag it into reality.

How long passed like that?

"…"

Eyes half-lidded, Khtun stretched out his hand. The mana that had settled in his heart when his bloodline awakened answered that will.

And immediately after—

Tss, tsszzzz—!

Particles of pure white bone rose into the empty air. This was an act meant to restore the Dragon Slayer Arch to the living world—and, in another sense, to bring a legend back to life.

The form took shape.

"Hoh… Already creating a medium-free undead. Remarkable talent. So that is to be my body, is it?"

Arch marveled as he studied the skeleton that would house him.

Then—

Clack-clack?

The skull tilted its head.

"…?"

"Hmm?"

Khtun's head cocked to one side. Arch's head cocked to one side. The skeleton watching them both cocked its head as well.

And the sound came again.

Clack-clack?

…The skeleton had a will of its own.