Chương 14: Old Words for New Chains

Scillo's heart was hammering so hard he thought it might just pop. He kept his eyes closed tightly, his body perfectly still, and tried to maintain acting unconscious. If he stayed like this, maybe the monster would leave him alone. Maybe it would assume he was too far gone to be a threat? Please, let it go away… he begged. Unfortunately, his mind was still racing despite his body's stillness. The grotesque images he'd just witnessed kept replaying behind his eyes like a horrible nightmare.

He could still see and hear Berland's body convulsing on the floor, black veins spreading across his face as the Binding Oath killed him. And Liatra had been strangled to death like she was nothing, even though Scillo had thought she was one of the strongest people he'd ever met. And that teenager. That thing wearing a teenager's skin. Those dead eyes that looked at people like they were insects. That flat, emotionless face that somehow never changed… Scillo had never seen anything like it.

Not even in two years of working for the organization. During the training sessions, he remembered the battle-hardened faces of the veterans as they demonstrated their powerful control over their runes. And yet, he never seen anything like this. This was death itself walking around in human form! Please, go away… please…

"When are you gonna get up?" A voice spoke in a cold tone, completely devoid of inflection and emotion. Scillo's body nearly seized up in fear, goosebumps erupting all over his skin. No, no, no… please… M—maybe it was just testing him. Maybe if he just held out just a little longer—"I know you can hear me." The voice was getting closer, as the sound of barefoot footsteps approaching across the wooden floor filled Scillo's ears.

"Your friends are dead," the voice continued in that same emotionless tone.

"But I can tell you're still awake. Did you really think you could fool me with such a pathetic act?" Oh god.

"So I'll ask again." There was a slight pause, as the footsteps stopped right next to him "When are you getting up?" Scillo's resolve crumbled instantly. His eyes snapped open, and tears and snot were already streaming down his face.

"Please!" He began sobbing and choking.

"Please don't kill me, I don't… I don't know anything, I'm not—" He whimpered in fear at the sight of the teenager, who was standing right beside him, looking down with those awful dead eyes. Up close, they were even worse. Almost like a doll's eyes, completely emotionless and soulless.

"Please," Scillo whispered again.

"I'm not important. I'm just—I'm just a scout, I don't know anything useful, please—" The teenager tilted his head slightly, studying him like an insect. Then he crouched down, bringing himself to eye level with Scillo.

"Your name," he requested quietly. Scillo swallowed hard.

"S-Scillo. Scillo Oncidia."

"Your rune?"

"It's called [Adhesion]," Scillo stammered out.

"I can make things sticky. It's not… it's not a combat rune, I swear, I'm just a supporter, I'm not a fighter—" The teenager's expression didn't change, as he interrupted him.

"What's your mission?"

"We… we were supposed to find the girl, and then report back to headquarters." Scillo began confessing everything, not leaving out a thing. He didn't want to die!

"That's all. We weren't supposed to engage with her or anything, just—""Why?"

"She has information. Something a Delver told her before he died. My organization wants to know what it is." Scillo began speaking faster, desperate to prove he was really cooperating.

"I'm sorry, I don't know the details, they don't tell me specifics, I'm too low-level for that—""How many teams are searching for her?"

"I don't know exactly. Multiple teams. Maybe five? Six?"

"Where's your headquarters?" Scillo's mouth opened, then closed. His hand instinctively moved to his chest where the Binding Oath was inscribed.

"I can't," he whispered.

"Please! The Oath won't let me. It'll—it'll kill me. Like it killed Pavett." The teenager stared at him for a long moment, those dead eyes boring into him. Then he nodded, as if he was already expecting that answer.

"What about your organization's name?"

"I can't say that either." Scillo's voice was barely audible. Would the teenager kill him if he decided that he didn't have enough valuable information? The teenager was silent for several long seconds. Scillo sat there in the puddle of his own urine, trembling. He was so certain that he was going to die at any second now. But instead, the teenager stood up.

"You're free to go," he said quietly. Scillo blinked, a confused and incredulous look overtaking his terrified expression.

"W-what?"

"Go back to your organization. You're going to report what happened here. Tell them your team was killed by someone you couldn't identify, and that you survived because you played dead." The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"I—I don't understand—""You're going to be my eyes inside your organization," the teenager continued.

"You're going to gather information for me. And when I need it, you're going to provide it." Scillo's mind reeled.

"But—but the Oath—I can't betray the organization, it'll kill me if I try to—""I'm aware of that limitation." The teenager reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of folded parchment.

"Which is why I'm going to give you a different oath. One that won't conflict with theirs."

"Tell me the exact conditions of your Binding Oath," he continued quietly.

"Word for word. What specifically triggers it?"

"I—" Scillo swallowed hard.

"I can't reveal the organization's name, location, or how to find headquarters. I can't describe the leadership structure or name any of the leaders. I can't discuss the primary objectives or the true purpose of the organization. I can't reveal operational codes or authentication methods. I can't—""Is that everything?" the teenager interrupted.

"I only need the bare basics."

"There's more, but those are the main ones. The orientation was confusing, there were so many clauses and exceptions—""What about information regarding specific missions?"

"That's... that's allowed, I think? As long as it doesn't reveal broader strategic objectives." Scillo frowned, trying to remember.

"Mission parameters, target information, team composition… that's all just tactical information, so they aren't protected."

"What about the methods your organization uses? Their techniques, their artifacts, and their recruitment process?"

"I... I don't know. I don't think that's directly protected? But it might be implied—""What about observational data? Things you see and experience that aren't directly related to leadership or objectives?" Scillo's mind was racing, trying to keep up.

"I—I suppose that's allowed? The Oath is very specific about what's forbidden. If something isn't explicitly listed, then..." The teenager nodded slowly, and Scillo could almost see the complex calculations happening behind those dead eyes. Then the teenager reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of folded parchment and a crude pencil.

"What are you—" Scillo started, then quickly shut his mouth. What am I doing? He scolded himself. Why are you provoking him?! Luckily, the teenager ignored him, unfolding the parchment and smoothing it against his knee. Then he began writing, forming symbols and words in a language Scillo didn't recognize. No… wait! Scillo's eyes widened as he watched the symbols take shape. He had seen this before.

This was similar to the binding contracts used by some Delvers to enslave magical beasts from Ghenna, effectively forcing creatures to obey commands through a magical compulsion. But those contracts required specialized materials, like parchment made from monster hide, ink mixed with the beast's blood, even sometimes needing to be inscribed during a full moon… This teenager was just using regular parchment and a pencil! And yet, as Scillo watched, the symbols began to glow faintly with red light.

Like they were coming alive.

"What… what are you doing?" Scillo whispered, his curiosity overtaking his caution. The teenager didn't look up from his work.

"I'm creating a contract. One that works within the limitations of your existing Oath."

"But binding contracts require—""Specific materials and rituals," the teenager interrupted, still writing.

"Yes. Well, under normal circumstances." He paused, examining what he'd written so far, then continued with a different set of symbols.

"But those requirements are more... traditional than necessary." Scillo stared at him.

"That's… that's not possible. Every book on binding contracts says—""Those books are stupid," the teenager said aridly.

"And I've had a lot of time to test what actually works." He finished writing and held up the parchment, examining it carefully. Scillo cautiously peeked over, studying the symbols covering the entire surface. They were complex geometric patterns interwoven with what looked like written clauses in some archaic language. But unlike the binding contracts Scillo had seen before, these symbols were much simpler.

"Here's how this works," the teenager said, still not looking at Scillo.

"Your Binding Oath prevents you from revealing specific information about your organization. This contract will compel you to provide information that isn't protected by your Oath."

"But—""The contract will have three primary clauses," the teenager continued without stopping, as if Scillo hadn't spoken.

"First, you will answer any questions I ask, to the best of your ability, as long as those answers don't trigger your Binding Oath. If a question would trigger the Oath, you'll say so, and the contract won't force you." Scillo's brows kit. Is he trying to.. exploit the loopholes?

"Second, you will not reveal the existence of this contract to anyone, including your organization. You won't mention me, describe me, or even hint at my existence. As far as your organization is concerned, you survived because you played dead and saw nothing useful." The teenager finally looked up, his vapid eyes locking onto Scillo's.

"Third, you will actively observe and remember details about your organization's operations, basically anything that isn't directly protected by your Oath. And when I contact you, you will share that information." He held out the parchment.

"If you violate any of these clauses, the contract will activate. It won't kill you, but it will cause pain. Significant pain. It will also increase in intensity with each violation until you comply or lose consciousness. Of course, if the pain does increase to a certain degree, you will die." Scillo stared at the glowing symbols, his mind reeling.

"I—I don't have a choice, do I?"

"No," the teenager said simply.

"You don't. Even if you wish to die, I won't allow it." Scillo's hand trembled as he reached out, fingers closing around the parchment. And the moment he touched it, the symbols erupted with brilliant red light. They lifted off the paper like living things, writhing through the air. Scillo tried to let go, but his hand wouldn't move. It was somehow frozen in place by some invisible force. The symbols swarmed toward him, converging on his chest. Pain exploded across his sternum as they burned into his flesh.

It felt like someone was carving the patterns directly into his heart. Scillo's mouth opened in a silent scream of pure agony, tears dripping down onto his lap. The symbols burrowed deeper, until he could feel them wrapping around his heart like chains, threading through his blood vessels, and spreading through his entire circulatory system. And then, it stopped, just as suddenly it had started. Scillo collapsed forward, gasping for air.

His hand flew to his chest, expecting to find his shirt soaked with blood, but the fabric was clean. When he pulled aside his collar with shaking fingers, he could see the faint red lines forming an intricate pattern over his heart. It was completely different from the Binding Oath his organization had given him. This one appeared to be a complex mandala of interlocking circles on his upper back.

"What was that?" Scillo managed, his voice hoarse and rough.

"I simply bound you to the contract," the teenager said, his tone unchanging. He turned toward the back exit, then paused.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said without looking back.

"I noticed certain marks on your Oaths that looked a bit like tracking marks… they transmit your location continuously to someone, correct?" Scillo blinked, still trying to recover from the pain.

"Y-yes. How did you—""And when someone dies, the sigil sends an emergency alert, right?"

"Yes," Scillo whispered, his mind reeling.

"It scans the surrounding area for evidence and magical residue before—""And that woman," the teenager interrupted.

"I assume her rune gave her the ability to remake liquids? Did your organization perhaps teach her how to make a vial that releases memories as a psychic burst upon death? Or maybe plant a tattoo that transmits a signal?" Scillo's mouth went dry.

"How… how do you know about that?"

"Answer the question."

"Yes," Scillo said quickly.

"Yes, Liatra carried one. In a hidden pocket. It's supposed to release her final thoughts if she dies, so nearby sensitives can pick them up."

"I see," The teenager nodded.

"I'll contact you when I need you. Bye now." And with that, the teenager simply stepped through the door and vanished into the darkness of the alley. Scillo sat there, staring at the empty doorway, the silence of the tavern pressing down on him.