Evening settled over Argus’s room, the sunlight dwindling into long amber streaks that pooled across the floor. The room was quiet, but the silence carried weight, stretched taut by the presence of the woman sitting before him.

  The Binding Vow cannot be made. Dravien repeated, his voice firm and unyielding.

  “What?” Argus thought internally. The agreement was coming together, and now Dravien refuses a Binding Vow?

  “Why do you not wish to make one?” Argus asked.

  It is not a matter of whether I wish it or not. I simply cannot.

  “Why can you not? Would you mind explaining?” Argus asked, his voice containing traces of irritation.

  My soul is already bound by one. I trust you know that no mortal soul can handle two Binding Vows.

  “Which Vow are you bound by?” As soon as the question was asked, an answer shaped itself.

  “Is it related to your reincarnation?”

  Yes, it is. Dravien simply replied, apparently not sensing the need to further comment.

  “If you won’t mind, could you tell me the reason for the Binding Vow?” Argus asked, curious despite himself.

  I made a Binding Vow with the Hero. In exchange for reincarnation, I promised to never attempt to destroy humans.

  Ah, so that is what it was. So now what to do about the issue at hand here? As he returned his attention to Liandra, he realized that from her perspective he must have been staring at her for quite some time.

  Color filled his cheeks as he realized it, though why was he having such a reaction in her presence? Why did he even care what this girl thought of him?

  “I cannot offer a Binding Vow,” he said at last, desperately trying to keep his voice calm. The words seemed to carry a weight that pressed into the space between them.

  Liandra froze, a hand curling slightly as if to tuck a loose strand of her dark-blue hair behind her ear, though she did not. The corner of her mouth twitched in a fleeting grimace, the briefest flash of exasperation, before she swallowed and forced her expression back into neutrality.

  “You cannot?” she repeated, a hint of incredulity brushing her words. Her tone was quiet, controlled, but the pressure in the pause that followed spoke volumes.

  “I cannot,” he confirmed, leaning back slightly in his chair, his hands resting lightly on the armrests. “Not because I do not wish it. Not because I refuse. I simply do not have the ability.”

  Her gaze sharpened, and her shoulders rose slightly, betraying the faint surge of frustration that she had tried to mask. “Then,” she said, drawing the word out just long enough to signal her irritation, “explain to me how you do not possess that ability.”

  “I’m afraid I cannot tell you the reason, but it is indeed a serious one. It nullifies my ability to make a Vow with you,” Argus answered.

  “So does that mean that our agreement cannot be made?” she asked, gazing into his eyes.

  Argus held her gaze steadily, careful not to flinch. There was no room here for uncertainty; any hesitation could unravel the fragile balance. “No, of course not. There must be an alternative to solve this.”

  Liandra’s lips pressed together, a subtle tightening that reflected the brief clash between her irritation and her need for action.

  Argus shifted inwardly, feeling the familiar stir of Dravien within. The presence was cold, immovable, a reminder of the immense power he carried and the ever-present danger beneath it.

  “It is kind of your fault that we are in this situation. So why don’t you tell me an alternative?” The question was asked with clear irritability behind it.

  Dravien’s voice brushed against his thoughts, sharp and unyielding.

  I am under no obligation to any mortal. No one commands me, so watch your tongue.

  The words struck him silent. He could feel Dravien’s intent pressing lightly against his awareness, an unspoken warning: the guidance, the counsel, the restraint he had offered in the past did not imply subservience. Dravien’s cooperation was his own choice, as it always had been and always would be.

  Liandra’s eyes did not waver, though they flicked to the faint shadows cast across the far wall.

  Finally, she spoke, her voice carefully measured yet tinged with impatience. “Then if a Binding Vow is impossible, what assurance do I have? What guarantee can you provide that your words are not empty?”

  Argus considered her question carefully, weighing the slight tightening of her grip along the edge of her sleeve. He could not offer the vow, but there must still be a path forward.

  Finally, she spoke again, a faint edge of resignation softening her tone. “Then we must work on trust in another way,” she said, leaning back slightly in her chair, though her hands remained tightly folded in her lap.

  “I have something that can serve as proof of my intentions. A relic of the cult, stolen during a mission. If it is presented to the Royal Knights in the right context, it will trace back to them without implicating me, without implicating you.”

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  Argus’s eyes flickered briefly with understanding. The move was clever, subtle, and effective. He allowed a small, almost imperceptible nod. “And in return,” he asked, “what do you expect me to provide?”

  Her gaze sharpened, her dark-blue eyes meeting his with clarity. “What are you able to provide as confirmation?”

  Argus did not find anything concrete that he could provide, though there was one thing he could offer, provided Dravien agreed.

  He voiced his question, though this time with considerably more politeness.

  Dravien, cold and calculating, did not answer immediately. Finally, the dark voice brushed his consciousness with unmistakable clarity.

  I am curious, he admitted. This twist of events intrigues me. You may tell her that I can remove the mind manipulation of Vilangos in ten days.

  Argus nodded faintly to himself. That was all he needed.

  He turned his attention back to Liandra, allowing a measured weight to his posture, letting the truth of Dravien’s words permeate his expression.

  “Vilangos,” he said finally, his voice measured, “has been subjected to a form of mental manipulation. I can undo it. Ten days at most. No more than that.”

  Liandra froze. Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment she seemed unsure whether she had heard correctly. Her hands twisted subtly in her lap, her fingernails brushing against the fabric as if grounding herself against disbelief.

  “Mental manipulation?” she repeated, her voice low but sharp. “I don’t even know what you are talking about.”

  “As I said, Vilangos is manipulated. He did not have control over his actions. And I can remove it in around ten days,” Argus replied.

  She was looking at him as if he had lost his mind. Her brows had gone so far up that Argus almost thought it was impressive. Finally, she calmed herself.

  “I didn’t even know he was under that kind of manipulation. In fact, I don’t think anyone else in the cult, aside from the masters, knows about this.” Her voice was carefully controlled.

  “Even if he is, how can you erase his manipulation in a matter of days?” The disbelief now returned to her expression.

  “I just can. I can’t reveal the specifics, but I assure you that I can erase it.” Argus answered, his voice carrying every ounce of his confidence—though not in himself, but in Dravien.

  “The longer the manipulation lasts, the harder it is to get rid of it. And Vilangos was influenced by it for five years. It would take decades to remove that kind of work.” Her voice carried her agitation.

  “I already told you what I can do. If you continue to doubt me, then that’s on you.” Her questions made perfect sense; he didn’t think he would have believed himself had he not known what Dravien could do.

  Liandra took a deep breath. “What you are saying right now sounds like complete bullshit, you know. But for some reason, I think you aren’t lying.”

  Argus exhaled, letting relief settle in. He did not think it would be that easy to convince her.

  “So should I take that to mean that our agreement is done?”

  “No, it is still not,” Liandra replied.

  “What? I thought you said that you believed me.” He didn’t bother hiding the confusion.

  “I said that I believed you were not lying. I never said that I believed in your capabilities.”

  He was even more confused now. So she believed him to be telling the truth, but she didn’t believe the statement itself?

  “It is possible that you are merely delusional regarding your capabilities and don’t even know your own limits.”

  That did make sense.

  “So, in order to confirm your capabilities, why don’t we head over to Vilangos right now?”

  “What good would that do? I told you I need time to erase the manipulation.”

  “Yes, I know that. I just want you to exhibit some of your abilities to me. I need to see what spells you will be using and your method for erasure, whether sigil-based or mana-based.”

  Argus asked whether Dravien would be okay with that, to which Dravien replied with a simple yes.

  Argus nodded. “Sure, no problem. So should we go right now?”

  At Argus’s reply, she clearly looked relieved.

  “Yes, I don’t have much time left.”

  Argus gazed at her in confusion for a second before she replied, “I’m wearing a relic that I borrowed from a merchant. It prevents the cult from spying on me and tracking me. I only have a couple more hours until they grow suspicious of the lack of a signal.”

  “Oh, okay then,” Argus replied, but why did she say the word ‘borrowed’ so strangely?

  Argus got up and stretched properly, making sure to correct his posture lest Dravien reprimand him again.

  Liandra stood up too, her dark-blue eyes catching the light of the fading sun, basking in the golden rays.

  Argus tried to remember where Vilangos was held. After a moment of pondering, he remembered his mother telling him that he was held in the dungeons. Before Vilangos’s capture, the dungeons had been empty for decades. The mansion was an old establishment created during the war of the four races.

  It used to contain prisoners but had seen no use of late, until now.

  They traveled through the mansion in silence, the sound of their footsteps absorbed by the furniture.

  They reached the dungeons after about five minutes of walking. Dust and the putrid smell of rusted metal permeated their senses. Cells were lined on either side of the walls, faintly glowing with old wards.

  “Is he held there?” Liandra asked, pointing at the thick obsidian door. Various guarding sigils were placed along its surface. It was flanked on either side by Royal Knights who stared at them as they approached.

  This was going to be a problem. He hadn’t known that Royal Knights were guarding Vilangos. Of course they were. He would have gotten strange looks had he attempted to talk to or enter the cell of the prisoner. And now he was here with a companion.

  “Let’s see how this goes,” he muttered to himself, mustering up every ounce of confidence he could. He walked up to them with what he hoped was the look of an entitled and arrogant young noble.

  “I wish to speak with the prisoner. Open the gate,” he demanded haughtily, hoping that they didn’t ask many questions about the young lady beside him.

  Surprisingly, they didn’t even glance at her, seemingly treating her as part of the environment.

  “I’m sorry, young master. But I’m afraid we can’t let anyone see the prisoner,” the guard on the right told him, granting no attention to Liandra.

  “You are aware of who you’re talking to, right? This is my house, and I enter wherever I want to,” Argus proclaimed, allowing anger and indignation to creep into his voice.

  The guard, however, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he looked at Argus with a flat stare devoid of any expression.

  “Yes, I’m aware. But it is the captain’s order that no one be allowed to see The Usurper. He is a very dangerous individual, and frankly, I don’t see any reason for you to be in there.”

  “Is the reason that his men killed my sister not enough? Is it truly so hard for you to believe that I want to see the face that led the attack? That I want to torture him until he begs?” The words rolled off his tongue easily, maybe because part of Argus did indeed want to.

  The captain looked at him, his eyes saddening with sympathy. “I still can’t let you in. I’m sorry.”

  After another round of back and forth between him and the guards, Argus had almost given up. He looked back at Liandra, who was apparently part of the walls now. It had to be a spell or ability that made her invisible to the guards.

  Liandra inclined her head ever so slightly toward him, and there was something in her expression that suggested he need not interfere. It was not reassurance. It was certainty.

  She stepped forward.

  The two guards stiffened at once.

  Argus felt the air shift.

  And then—