Icarius's brows furrowed as he stared at the elf man's confused expression. "You really don't have a system, do you?" he repeated, half hoping that maybe he'd misheard the first time.
The elf man's response was nothing but a deep sigh. He stroked his long white beard thoughtfully, his eyes drifting toward the night sky. The two moons hung high above them, casting pale light on the hilltop.
"I genuinely never thought I'd witness something as perplexing as you, Icarius," the elf finally said, his voice calm but tinged with disbelief. "In all my years, I've encountered many mysteries, but your case—it's something beyond even those." He turned his gaze back to Icarius, studying him with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "Tell me, are you not even a little bit amazed by yourself?"
Icarius opened his mouth to reply but faltered. What was he supposed to say? That none of this made sense to him either? That he was just as lost as the elf? A nervous laugh escaped him as he stammered incoherently, unable to form a coherent response. The elf's lips curled into a gentle smile.
"Relax. It's not often that one gets to be a living riddle," the elf teased before adding, "No, I don't have a system."
Icarius let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Figures. Let's do it the old-fashioned way, then."
The elf raised an eyebrow. "You know the way? How intriguing."
"Yeah," Icarius replied with a wry grin. "I knew it somehow."
Without wasting any more time, Icarius bit into his thumb, drawing a small droplet of blood. He knelt down and used it to trace a delicate, glowing circle on the ground—a ritual pattern that seemed almost instinctual.
He needed mana to complete the contract.
Icarius gritted his teeth, summoning every ounce of focus he could assemble. He had done this before—drawn mana from within—but as he attempted to channel it through his hand, something went horribly wrong.
The instant he tried to force the energy out, a searing pain erupted through his veins. It wasn't just discomfort; it was as if molten fire had replaced his blood, burning its way through his body. The pain was so intense that his vision blurred, and his entire right side locked up, paralyzed by the sheer agony.
"Ahh!" A strangled cry escaped him as he fell to his knees, clutching his right arm. The world spun, and the edges of his vision darkened. Icarius felt himself teetering on the brink of consciousness.
The elf man, alarmed, rushed to his side. His hands glowed with a soothing, pale light as he pressed them against Icarius's arm. The pain gradually subsided, replaced by a cool, calming sensation as the elf's magic began to mend the damage. Icarius's breathing slowed, though his body trembled from the aftershocks of the unpleasant situation.
"You should have let me handle it from the start," the elf said gently, his voice a mixture of concern and mild reproach. "There was no need to put yourself through that."
Icarius didn't respond right away. He simply laid back on the cool grass, staring up at the night sky. The stars twinkled above, distant and serene, and for a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in their quiet beauty. But even as he gazed up, memories of his past surfaced—memories of the day he lost his magic core.
The regret was sharp and bitter, a wound that had never quite healed. He remembered the sensation of his power slipping away and the helplessness that followed. And yet, as he lay there now, alive and breathing, the regret was tempered by a deep sense of relief. Yes, he had lost much, but he was still here, still fighting. And for that, he was grateful.
A sudden notification from the system broke his daydreaming, startling him out of his thoughts. The message was crisp and direct, but there was something different about it this time. The system felt more... autonomous, almost as if it had become what a system should have normally been.
"Gobralvar is seeking to form a contract."
"DO YOU ACCEPT OR DECLINE?"
Icarius blinked, processing the message. "Gobralvar... so that's the elf man's name," he said quietly, the pieces falling into place. He could feel the weight of the decision in his hands, but there was no hesitation.
"Accept," he whispered.
The moment he made his choice, he felt a subtle shift in the air around him. The contract was sealed, and the pressure that had been building in his chest eased. The tension drained from his body, leaving him feeling lighter and letting out a big sigh of relief.
He then broke the silence, turning to the elf-old man and asking, "Now, are you comfortable, Sir Gobralvar?"
Gobralvar chuckled, scratching his beard. "Oh, so it tells you the name. I forgot to even introduce myself." With a more serious tone, he added, "I should be the one checking on you. I was comfortable the whole time."
"I am; I should be," Icarius responded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Now, let's discuss what we need to know. But wait... isn't your contract different than the others, Sir Gobralvar?"
The elf's eyes glowed as he answered, "Well, mine is a reliance contract. If I betray your trust, I will die. But I think you can't order me or develop your power with me. We only have telepathy."
Icarius hummed thoughtfully, muttering to himself, "Power, huh... power, develop power..." He sighed deeply, the weight of that thought pressing on him. Then, in a firmer tone, he said aloud, "Well, let's discuss now what we need to discuss. Zephyrius, wake up; it is an order."
The small, sleeping form of the wyvern got up instantly. Having shrunken himself for comfort, Zephyrius snapped awake. With a groggy voice, he grumbled, "Finally, you're speaking."