Chapter 2705 Must Go <TOC> Chapter 2707 New Trial
Translator: SumTLMan
According to conventional reasoning, the Wood Spirit’s departure was proposed by Angel; therefore, to a certain degree, he has an obligation to protect the Wood Spirit.
From this standpoint, a contract whose reward column is blank is acceptable.
However, the Sovereign of Wisdom’s draft differs.
He added specific clauses and penalties for violating them, and those penalties are severe, reaching into both the Mental Sea and the Land of the Soul.
Of the three extraordinary faculties a wizard possesses, only the Mental Space is not explicitly mentioned. Yet that does not mean the Mental Space is unaffected; injury to any one faculty will, more or less, impact the others.
For instance, the penalty the Sovereign of Wisdom listed states that if a clause is broken, the Mental Sea will suffer backlash, the level of which is powered by the power of the contract itself.
And that power is explicitly described as a second‑level backlash bestowed by the World Will. Such a backlash is already extremely high, equivalent to half of Angel’s mental power tendrils being severed at once, inflicting massive damage on his Mental Sea.
Once the Mental Sea is gravely wounded, Angel’s condition will resemble that of “Tainted Blood Shadow Dagger” Eureka: mental derangement and uncontrolled magic power. How far that loss of control goes depends on whether the Magic Vortex in his Mental Space remains stable. Should it destabilize, the vortex’s rebound will likewise injure the Mental Space.
Damage to the Land of the Soul needs no elaboration; the soul is the most delicate of existences. Whether wounded or corrupted, it triggers a chain of lasting after‑effects that harm both body and mind.
Granted, Angel’s soul is unusual and may resist the contract’s power to some degree, yet the result remains uncertain. Even if the Land of the Soul can withstand the power, backlash against an unprotected Mental Sea would still cripple Angel.
Therefore, the severity of these penalties is extraordinary, greater than in most contracts. Should they be triggered, they will not kill him, but they will condemn him to a long period of living worse than death.
Such harsh punishment, if unsupported by a commensurate chain of interests, becomes a joke.
With one‑sided exploitation like this, why should Angel sign the contract?
Even if the Sovereign of Wisdom forces Angel to sign under threat of power, how can he guarantee that Angel will not simply endure the cost and break the contract once he leaves?
Moreover, Angel’s identity and background are already on display. Unless the Sovereign of Wisdom kills him here, letting Angel depart with an exploitative contract would surely bring calamity upon Nightfall City.
Thus, from the outset, a contract that squeezes Angel alone has no value.
Still, since the Sovereign of Wisdom dares write such heavy penalties, he cannot be unaware of the crux.
Angel pondered for a moment without immediately objecting; instead, he looked first at the specific Contract Clauses.
He believed the Sovereign of Wisdom would explain himself afterward.
If not, it would amount to brandishing blades and overturning the table.
And with the Wood Spirit still in Angel’s grasp, given the Sovereign of Wisdom’s attitude toward it, the situation should not yet escalate into open confrontation.
Setting aside his doubts for now, Angel raised his eyes to the clauses.
There were only three.
He read them one by one, his gaze gradually growing calm.
“First: Guarantee that no intent to harm the Wood Spirit will arise, and commit no deliberate act that harms the Wood Spirit.”
This clause echoes Angel’s earlier thoughts: the Sovereign of Wisdom cares deeply for the Wood Spirit. Since it has chosen to leave and is now in Angel’s hands, an exploitative contract would backfire.
Moreover, in phrasing the clause, the Sovereign of Wisdom did not lean entirely toward the Wood Spirit.
Take “no deliberate act of harming” as an example, this wording holds obvious loopholes. What of accidental harm? How is “accidental” defined? If one is influenced by a spell and loses self‑control, does that count as deliberate?
These loopholes are glaring and clearly intentional.
The Sovereign of Wisdom understands that the more restrictions there are, the stronger the rebellion. Too many shackles would only make Angel keep his distance from the Wood Spirit. To win Angel’s genuine protection, like raising a fledgling eagle, setting it free is best.
Yet freedom does not mean total neglect.
Against this backdrop, the first clause emerged.
“Second: After the Wood Spirit returns to its original master, exert every effort to sustain the bond between them. If, due to maladaptation, the Wood Spirit chooses to come back, you must escort it safely back to Nightfall City.”
This clause likewise protects the Wood Spirit, though it chiefly reflects concern over Sanders’ stance.
Angel’s task is mediation, hardly difficult.
Still, the Sovereign of Wisdom deliberately blurred some lines in the wording.
The term “maladaptation” is broad. Besides, only the living can fail to adapt, if the Wood Spirit dies, adaptation is moot.
Thus, the Sovereign of Wisdom implicitly asks Angel to ensure the Wood Spirit’s safety while with its original master, though he does not write it out.
Because it is unwritten, should calamity strike, whether the World Will deems a breach is ambiguous, common in contracts decided by good conscience.
If Angel’s conscience is clear, he did all he could, yet the Wood Spirit still perished, then he has not violated the pact.
But if he could have saved the Wood Spirit and watched coldly instead, that would constitute a breach.
Naturally, once conscience becomes the yardstick, human nature is on trial.
Were Angel of poorer character, he could feel no guilt while watching indifferently and still claim no breach.
Therefore, this clause actually leans toward Angel.
Through it, the Sovereign of Wisdom subtly says: I trust your morals and integrity.
Whether he truly trusts Angel is debatable, yet such wording at least lessens Angel’s contractual pressure.
“Third: By no means, in explicit terms or by implication, may you reveal anything concerning Nightfall City to the Savage Grottoes or any interested parties, save for matters regarding the Wood Spirit.”
This clause is not entirely about the Wood Spirit. Angel suspects the Sovereign of Wisdom’s aim is to safeguard Nightfall City’s secrets.
It is best to keep any giant, especially the Savage Grottoes, from taking interest in Nightfall City.
If that is indeed the motive, Angel believes the Sovereign of Wisdom miscalculates.
The Savage Grottoes’ leadership is swamped with their own affairs; they have no leisure to fancy Nightfall City. Even knowing its secrets, they might merely post a few Mission Hall quests, letting idle hands try their luck, nothing more.
Angel knows this but cannot say so.
Plainly, among the three clauses, the last is the harshest.
To extract hush‑money rewards commensurate with the contract’s severity, everything hinges on this clause.
…
What Angel truly thinks of the contract remains unknown; yet to an outsider like the Black Count, the clauses are broad.
The Sovereign of Wisdom’s intentions are transparent.
He does not wish to coerce Angel into protecting the Wood Spirit; he wants to bind Angel emotionally so that he will protect it of his own accord.
Such a contract would fail with the Black Count. Eliciting emotional bonds from him is exceedingly hard: the longer one lives, the higher one’s inner walls.
Without sharing life‑and‑death or profound joys and sorrows, those walls rarely crack.
Young people differ.
The younger one is, the easier it is to form attachments, romantic or otherwise. Once forged, these bonds age like fine wine, provided they know no betrayal.
Take Vai and Daus: they met in youth, bickered through shared escapades, and became bosom friends, though their natures are polar opposites, Vai a shut‑in, Daus a rover. Such a friendship is almost impossible without youthful beginnings.
Once formed, a bond erases many practical rules: Daus may advance to a formal wizard, yet Vai still treats him with casual irreverence. Daus grumbles about honorifics, Vai obliges once or twice, tires, and Daus never minds.
Hence, bonds are unique and precious to each person.
Angel is in his prime, the easiest time to forge ties, so the Sovereign of Wisdom chooses this path of emotional binding, both an overt strategy and a gesture of goodwill.
Therefore, when the Black Count sees the contract, he deems the Sovereign of Wisdom a man of sense.
Of course, the Black Count also notes the stringent penalties and blank rewards. Unlike Angel, he does not analyze endlessly; at a glance he knows the Sovereign of Wisdom must have further arrangements.
Otherwise, there would be no need for a “reward” column.
Still, not every clause is clear to him. The last one, in particular, puzzles him.
“Do not mention matters of Nightfall City, except for the Wood Spirit’s condition.” This is perplexing: to tell the Wood Spirit’s story, one must recount much of what happened in the underground sewers.
Surely the Sovereign of Wisdom considered this, why not state it plainly?
An addendum, perhaps?
While the Black Count ponders the third clause, Angel likewise feels a subtle unease.
He cares little for the Wood Spirit’s situation or whether Nightfall City is discussed; what worries him is this: he has already revealed Nightfall City’s affairs in the Wilderness of Dreams. If that falls within the clause, would signing the contract immediately trigger backlash?
That would be troublesome.
“Do you have any doubts about this contract?” the Sovereign of Wisdom asked when he saw Angel lower his eyes, knowing he had finished reading.
Angel’s face betrayed nothing, yet the question assumed: you surely have doubts.
Infected by Daus’ contrarian spirit, Angel wanted to answer: “None.” But the word died on his lips.
The reward column was still blank; to claim no doubts would indeed leave it blank.
Angel said: “I do have a few uncertainties.”
The Sovereign of Wisdom stayed silent, inviting Angel to continue.
Angel pointed at the third clause: “I can do my utmost regarding the first two, but I find this one somewhat improper.”
“What part is improper?”
Angel replied: “Before coming to the Garden Labyrinth, I already reported my whereabouts to my mentor. If that counts as disclosure, I’ve already disclosed.”
Whether the Sovereign of Wisdom reacted is unknown, but Daus and the others looked at Angel in surprise.
When had Angel reported to Sanders? They knew nothing of it.
Their brief confusion did not escape the Sovereign of Wisdom’s notice.
Yet before he could ask, Angel spoke on: “A mini signal tower, I have one.”
Signal towers the Sovereign of Wisdom had heard of, but miniature versions were unfamiliar.
At that moment, the Black Count supplied an explanation.
He recounted the history of the signal tower’s invention and pointed out that not everyone possessed a miniature model; even leaders of many wizard organizations lacked one.
Angel, however, had one because he belonged to the Research Institute.
In other words, another layer of Angel’s identity emerged.
Angel did not mind; the heavier his background, the safer he was.
The Sovereign of Wisdom had long maintained channels of outside contact and plainly grasped the Research Institute’s weight.
Though his face showed little, inwardly, exactly as Angel surmised, he took Angel even more seriously. Yet his habit of suspicion resurfaced: Angel’s abilities and age hardly matched.
Still, the Sovereign of Wisdom retained his senses, the Wood Spirit still relied on Angel. Besides, the more formidable Angel’s status, the greater the Wood Spirit’s safety.
The Sovereign of Wisdom was glad he had chosen the path of emotional bonding rather than mutual exploitation.
If it worked, the Wood Spirit would hold fast to a true powerhouse’s leg, a boon without drawback.
Thoughts flashed through his mind, yet his expression stayed mild: “No need to worry. Anything disclosed before the contract forms is outside its scope. The moment of formation is the benchmark.”