Chapter 5: The Contract

***

(On the day of transmigration)

I couldn’t go out, stuck lying in a hospital bed, reading the latest web novels on my phone.

It wasn’t exactly high-end entertainment.

In this information age, games and movies were at my fingertips.

But I lacked the energy for those.

I couldn’t focus—during games, I’d forget what I was doing and get chewed out by teammates.

Watching movies, I’d zone out, and suddenly the credits would be rolling.

Web novels were better.

Their formulaic, forgettable plots let me read without guilt, mindlessly passing the time.

I couldn’t eat much—food made me nauseous.

I clicked to the latest chapter, trying to distract myself.

“Your crimes end here, Ross! Today, I’ll make you pay for the innocents you’ve lured and killed!”

Nolan, exhausted, drew his sword, facing the black sorcerer, certain his foe was in worse shape.

“Heh, you think I’ll just surrender?”

But to his shock, the black sorcerer thrust his hands forward, piercing the chests of two comrades. Their mutated hearts pulsed in his grasp.

The black sorcerer’s monstrous mouth split open, swallowing the pair of hearts.

“Hehehe—the God’s Seed is the source of our power. Now, I’ll gain triple the Abyss’s favor!” Ross roared.

Moments ago, he’d been at death’s door, yet now unleashed unprecedented power.

Empowered by the Abyss’s favor, Ross purified Nolan with primal force, spreading the Abyss’s power to every corner of the continent.

All life returned to the mother’s embrace.

[End of Book.]

“What a trash novel!”

Seeing such a lazy chapter, I, who’d been hoping for Nolan to stage a comeback and dominate, couldn’t help but curse aloud.

“A meteor-escape ending? Scamming readers and running off? I spent so much money on this! No way—I’m going to rip into it!”

I eagerly opened the comment section, expecting to see other readers tearing this cash-grab garbage apart.

But from top to bottom, it was all default avatars and random usernames.

[Praise the Abyss.]

[Praise the Abyss.]

[Praise the Abyss.]

[Praise the Abyss.]

[Praise the Abyss.]

[Praise the Abyss.]

…

The screen was filled with endless [Praise the Abyss].

What was this?

Had the site been hacked?

Panicking, I frantically clicked to exit, terrified my phone might catch some unknown virus.

Just then, the novel website popped up a dialog box.

[Do you agree to the user agreement?]

[Yes]    [No]

At the bottom, in tiny, dense blue hyperlinks, there was something about “Terms and Responsibilities Regarding the Abyss Apostle Contract,” with a pre-checked box for “I have read the above user agreement.”

In my panic to exit, my trembling finger accidentally tapped [Yes].

And so, the contract was sealed—

***

Nolan Cyril woke early today, trekking over ten miles from his village to the nearest free city, Romern.

He carried a long cloth bundle on his back, far taller than the boy himself, looking quite odd.

But even more striking was his plain, shabby clothing, out of place in this prosperous northern imperial port city thriving on trade.

Of course, Romern had its share of ragged poor, but they lurked in the slums of the lower city.

Most would never glimpse the grandeur of the upper city in their lifetime.

Yet Nolan, a shabbily dressed kid, strutted boldly into the heart of the city, standing on the central trade street that citizens boasted about, his expression numbly calm.

He could read, looking up at a small storefront with a sign reading “Magic Goods,” adorned with a painted pointed hat.

Nolan wisely avoided the glittering, opulent shops.

He knew his clothes and age would get him turned away at the door.

He’d have to try his luck at a place like this.

“Kid, this isn’t your place,” the robed old man said, glancing at the boy dismissively.

“I’ve got something to sell,” Nolan said, keeping his cool without flinching.

“This shop may be small, but we don’t take junk,” the old man scoffed.

“You haven’t even seen it—how do you know it’s junk?”

Nolan took the bundle from his back, setting it on the ground with a thud.

The weight alone caught the old man’s eye.

He adjusted his gemmed monocle and looked closer as Nolan unwrapped the cloth, revealing a gleaming weapon.

“A greatsword—”

The old man stepped out from behind the crowded counter, inspecting the weapon closely.

His gaze traced the runes on the blade’s spine to the sea-blue gem on the crossguard.

It matched the boy’s eyes.

“This is an enchanted weapon—” he said, eyeing Nolan suspiciously.

“Where’d you get this? We don’t take stolen goods. If you can’t explain, I’ll call the guards—”

“It’s my great-grandfather’s heirloom,” Nolan answered smoothly.

“Fein Cyril, a titled knight.”

“How do you prove that?” the old man asked.

“I have the knighthood document,” Nolan replied confidently, pulling a sealed parchment from his bundle.

“Alright, I don’t need to see it. How much for this magic sword?”

The old man waved off the document, uninterested.

“Ten gold coins,” Nolan said quickly.

The old man paused, then burst out laughing.

“Kid, you came prepared—that’s the going rate.”

“But I can’t give you that much.”

“Why not?” Nolan asked.

“Because I’m not senile. Cyril—that name rings a bell,” the old man said, pointing at the sword on the ground.

“Ten gold coins is the price for a named, clean-provenance antique. Plenty of nobles would buy it to decorate their homes or reward their men.”

“But with that surname, it’s just a weapon’s price—seven gold coins, no more.”

Nolan inwardly sighed in relief.

He’d feared being haggled down to five coins.

“Deal,” the boy said, lifting the greatsword with both hands and placing it on the counter.

The old man glanced at him, surprised a kid so young could heft a weapon even adults might struggle with.

But that was none of his business.

He counted out seven full-weight gold coins and handed them to the boy.

“Keep them hidden—don’t let anyone see,” the old man sighed, then ignored Nolan, admiring the exquisite, almost artistic greatsword.

Nolan carefully wrapped the coins in cloth, securing them tightly, then turned and left the shop.

His stomach growled—he’d only eaten some black bread before leaving that morning.

The aroma from roadside eateries tempted him, but with such wealth on him, he didn’t dare linger in the city.

“Sister—with this, we’ve got her tuition.”

He thought to himself, hurrying out of the city, then worrying his quick pace might draw attention.

He deliberately slowed his steps.

“Hey, kid.”

Trouble came.

As Nolan exited the upper city’s passage, three rough-looking men in their twenties surrounded him, glaring.

“We saw you strut right past the guards—how’d you get into the upper city?”

“Brothers, I’m running errands for a noble lord outside the city. Please don’t hassle me.”

Nolan stopped, not mentioning his knightly lineage.

He’d gotten into the upper city by flashing that knighthood document for clout.

“Outside the city… tch, probably some backwater noble…”

The thugs glanced at the guards by the passage, muttering complaints but stepping aside.

Though Romern was an emperor-sanctioned free city, outside noble jurisdiction, even street toughs had to weigh their odds carefully.

Nolan shook off the encounter, left through the city gate, and walked home.

He trudged until the sun dipped low, the blood-red dusk settling over the land, before spotting his village at the mountain’s base, wisps of smoke rising.

Nolan’s home wasn’t in the village but up the mountain.

Passing through, he greeted familiar villagers, crossed the evergreen forest, and reached his wooden cabin.

Normally, his sister would be cooking by now, smoke rising from the chimney.

But today, there was none.

A bad feeling crept up.

Nolan rushed into the yard, where his younger sister, Diya Cyril, stood by the door, looking at him in panic.

“Brother—” she shouted.

“There’s a bear in the backyard!”

A bear?

Nolan’s mind buzzed.

How could there be a bear?

This area rarely saw wolves, let alone bears—especially in winter, when they hibernated!

He grabbed a rake leaning against the wall and turned to his sister.

“Diya, hide. I’ll check it out.”

Diya nodded frantically, lifting her skirt and running to the front yard.

Nolan swallowed hard, gripped the rake, and crept into the house, peering out the back door.

Sure enough—a massive bear, reeking of rot, lay sprawled in the backyard, taking over their small vegetable garden like it was asleep.

“No…” Nolan muttered, noticing the bear wasn’t breathing, as if dead.

Suspicious, he cautiously approached and poked its side with the rake.

But the tines sank in.

Startled, Nolan yanked back, but the rake’s iron prongs caught in the bear’s fur.

The seemingly robust beast tore open like melted butter.

A piercing stench spread.

Nolan saw murky fluid and rotting entrails spill from the bear’s torn abdomen.

And with it, a slender figure.