Evil Avalon - Volume 2 - Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Magical Contracts

“I know a great place to hunt,” said Nitta.

We had reached our initial destination, the third floor, and were discussing where to hunt monsters. Nitta’s suggested spot, however, was on the fifth floor. I wondered whether she referred to the bridge that we could use to kill the orc lord.

The problem was that if we headed to the fifth floor, factoring in the return journey, we’d barely have any time to hunt monsters...unless we used the gates. Did she plan on telling Oomiya about the gates? I decided that I should check with her to see whether we were on the same page about the risks of sharing game information.

I beckoned over to Nitta. “C’mere a second,” I whispered. “So, uh, Nitta... How much are you going to tell her?”

“Quite a lot,” she whispered back. “We can trust her.” She then poked my cheek and added, “Also, the deal was that you call me Risa from now on.”

Once we’d decided to form a circle, the girls had said we should call each other by our first names to deepen our relationship. It was one thing to call Kaoru by her first name since we had grown up together. Something was embarrassing about calling girls in my class by their first names... Although that wasn’t what I wanted to discuss with her.

If there were other players out there, they could track down the source of game information should it get out and find us, and we’d be in trouble if a player we did not know wanted to do us harm. But as long as news of our game knowledge didn’t spread any farther than the school, we could probably handle things. At least players came from a world where people weren’t psychopaths, so there was always the possibility we could come to an understanding. If not, Nitta and I could team up to take them down.

We’d get in deep trouble should anyone outside the school catch wind of it. Many countries and companies would kill to have their hands on dungeon secrets. If they even suspected we knew something they didn’t, they’d come after us in ways that even I couldn’t predict.

For example, people used some of the most dangerous magical skills from advanced and expert level jobs for mind control, brainwashing, and mind erasing. Although, I hadn’t tested them myself in this world. There were probably magical items in existence that could also perform mind control. Technically, ways to protect yourself from these effects existed, but I’d be a sitting duck if someone used one on me.

The worst-case scenario was that somebody used mind control, threats, or torture to extract game secrets from a player, leading to those secrets becoming common knowledge in the world. That could result in a total breakdown of law and order, opening Pandora’s box to hell on Earth. This world was an accurate recreation of DEC, so it already pushed law and order to its limits.

“Even so,” whispered Nitta, “we’ll have to share our secrets with Satsuki to level up faster, or we’ll be in trouble later. Don’t forget we’ve got to survive the cataclysms of the game’s main story.”

The cataclysms that Nitta—uh, Risa—was talking about were game events that could reduce the area around the dungeon to ashes and kill thousands of people. Worryingly, the developers had added several events like this to spice up the story. If the events resulted from following a specific character’s plotline or during a particular quest, the solution was simple: don’t advance those storylines. But the main story would progress no matter your choices in the game or which character you played. This choice meant that if the world followed DEC’s story, then tragedy could strike no matter what the protagonist did.

Of course, I would do what I could to stop the cataclysms, even if it wouldn’t be easy to level up enough to counteract the main story without letting my secrets leak, especially in the time limit of the game’s story. That was why Risa proposed we invite people we could trust to form a party.

I’d arrived at the same conclusion, partly why I had chosen to raid the dungeon with my family, whom I could trust without reservation. This option had the benefit of ensuring they’d be strong enough to keep safe. Risa had no family in this world, so she’d decided to raid with Oomiya—uh, Satsuki.

The best solution was for the players with game knowledge to team up; it made the most sense for raiding and keeping information a secret. That wasn’t exactly practical either, though. Players would likely be cautious of each other and wait to see how things unfolded. Others would likely keep quiet, even if a person revealed themselves as players. I knew I would.

“Don’t you trust us, Souta?” Risa whispered.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I responded. “I just think we need to be extra careful when deciding what to share and what to hold back.”

I believed we should only tell Satsuki the bare minimum. My family knew basically everything, but that was only because I trusted them well enough to put my life in their hands. We might be good friends with Satsuki, but it would be too risky to trust top-grade secrets to someone we’d only known for two months.

“I agree. Like, we should keep quiet about the game’s story and events. But we should be safe to tell her about the gates, information about monsters, and bridge-dropping.”

“When telling her secrets, we should make sure that she understands exactly how much danger we’d be in if they got out.”

“Definitely. And taking her word for it won’t be enough... Which is where this comes in!” Risa suddenly took out a piece of paper with plenty of fine print from her rucksack. When I looked at the document, I realized it was a magical contract.

Magical contracts had shown up occasionally in the game’s main story. They would restrict the actions and speech of the person they bound.

Two jobs in DEC, Summoner and Elementalist, allowed players to form contracts with fairies and other summonable entities, creatures as powerful as they were quirky. Frankly, these creatures were difficult to control because of their selfish natures, which could endanger players who’d summoned them. Because of that, I’d planned to stay away from those jobs in the game.

Contract magic stipulated the instructions the summoned creatures would have to follow. It was a curse where the creature that had broken the contract would be scorched to death by dark magical flames.

Risa had prepared a magical contract that bore the same symbols as contract magic, but the effects were weaker. A person could sign the contract by reciting the purpose and stipulations out loud while channeling magic through the contract. If they broke it, the document would burn to a crisp.

Broken magical contracts weren’t as binding because they wouldn’t incinerate faithless parties like contract magic; instead, they verified whether a party had broken their contract. Some countries experimented with using actual contract magic on human beings, but humanitarian complaints led to the results never becoming public.

Magical contracts wouldn’t work if their terms were too vague. The conditions needed to be explicit and precise, and the person signing the contract had to understand them. Otherwise, there’d be no effect. If I drafted a contract stating, “Don’t tell anyone what I’ve told you relating to the dungeon,” it wouldn’t be evident to the person signing the contract. That even applied whether that included commonplace information like battle tactics, dungeon geography, and raiding strategies.

On the other hand, a more specific contract saying, “Don’t tell anyone about what Risa and I told you while we were in such-and-such place at such-and-such time,” then the person signing the contract would have a clear idea about the terms they’d broken. Risa had probably prepared several contracts with similar, precise wording.

Magical contracts had shown up in droves in the game’s main story when the contents of the contracts were important. I found it very interesting that such magical items originating from the dungeon had a place in this world.

On a bit of a tangent, the nuptial grimoire that Kaoru and I had signed was something young Piggy had written as an imitation of the magical contracts he’d heard about. That meant it was just a scrap of paper with no significance. Nothing would happen if one broke the grimoire’s terms.

Risa and I finished our discussion to join Satsuki and led her to a secluded area to bring up the contracts.

“What were you two talking about?” asked Satsuki. “You both seem very close... Could it be what I think it is?”

Satsuki appeared to have come to a grave misunderstanding, which I hoped would be short-lived. There was no way I’d try anything romantic with Risa. She’d slice me in two if I did!

“We were talking about a special hunting spot,” said Risa. “It’s a secret, but if you promise not to tell anyone, we’ll let you in on the details.”

“You know about a place like that?” Satsuki said at once. Her tone suggested she was suspicious whether such a place existed, yet her curiosity won the day. “Oh, tell me, please!”

“But first,” Risa blurted. She pulled out the magical contract and explained that Satsuki had to sign and agree to its terms.

Satsuki gulped, and her eyes widened as she remarked, “O-Oh wow, this is the real thing, an actual magical contract. Is it really such a serious secret?”

The reason for Satsuki’s surprise was that magical contracts were expensive to purchase. Risa had said that it had taken her a long time to get her hands on it but hadn’t told me how exactly she’d done that.

“I’m not done,” said Risa. “If you break the terms of this contract... You’ll pay for it with your life.”

Satsuki gasped.

“Well, I’m half joking,” declared Risa, then she looked deep into Satsuki’s eyes. “But I’m half serious.”

Thanks to this, Satsuki understood that she couldn’t share our dungeon knowledge under any circumstances.

Risa continued, “Because if what we’re about to tell you gets out, there are people that might try to eliminate us and the people around us.”

“But if it’s such a big secret, how come you two know about it?”

It was a natural question to ask. The answer was that we were former players, though that wouldn’t make any sense to her, so Risa said we couldn’t answer that.

What mattered was whether Satsuki’s desire to grow stronger was important enough for her to accept the risks of learning our secrets, secrets so important that we’d use a magical contract to keep them safe. It was okay for her to refuse the offer. In that case, Risa and I would level up using our game techniques and carve out time to level up Satsuki separately.

Satsuki contemplated it, hesitating until she made up her mind. “I-If it really will help me get stronger... Then I’ll sign it!”

She clenched her fists and told us about her family. Satsuki’s family was an offshoot branch of a prestigious family that served nobles. Apparently, she had to fight her parents to be allowed to enroll at Adventurers’ High; they’d wanted her to attend a local high school where she could serve her family’s main branch. She explained her success at Adventurers’ High would prove to her family that she’d made the right decision. Other classes’ treatment of Class E had hit her so hard because it’d taught her the truth about the school and sown doubt in her mind about living up to her family’s expectations.

When she’d experienced that reality check, she noticed that many of our classmates were going through the same thing. In her melancholy, she’d wanted somebody to save her, but she desired to save her classmates and change the school when she saw them struggle. This wish had grown further each day that passed.

The game’s Satsuki had run herself ragged to improve Class E’s lot, even as the events took their toll on her mental health. So Risa and I, as former players, knew that she was telling the truth.

“Let’s get it signed, then!” said Risa cheerily.

“Yep!” exclaimed Satsuki.

Risa’s contract only pertained to information about the gates, so bridge-dropping wasn’t in scope. No major societal consequences would occur even if the bridge-dropping technique got out and somebody wanted to use it for malicious purposes. A person could only perform the technique once an hour, so there might be a fight over who got to drop the bridge, and only a few could reap the benefits. Additionally, it would no longer matter whether we could bridge-drop once we’d finished using it to level up high enough.

Knowledge about the gates was a much more sensitive matter, which could have significant societal repercussions, so Risa had put this in the contract.

Risa placed the magical contract on the ground, and the two girls laid their hands atop it, facing each other.

“Okay, channel your magic through now,” instructed Risa.

Although this was Risa’s first time using a magical contract, the internet had told her what to do, and everything worked perfectly. Satsuki recited the terms of the contract, that she wouldn’t tell anyone about the gates, the gate rooms, or anything about the gates. The two girls then both channeled their magic into the magical symbol on the document.

Satsuki still had no idea what exactly a gate was, but the black symbol glowed with a faint green light, so the contract magic had activated as intended.

Now that the contract was out of the way, we told Satsuki about the gates. Risa gasped a little when I explained that the gates led to a room in the first basement level of the school; it must’ve been surprising to her.

“Are you messing with me?” asked Satsuki, suspicious. “I mean, I’d love it to be the truth! It’d be so convenient! We could really cut down on travel time.”

“Seeing is believing,” I said. “For now, though, let’s head down to the fifth floor.”

With the option of using the gate on the fifth floor, we could use the bridge-dropping trick for today’s raid. My mother and sister were supposed to do that today but would only be raiding in the morning and be gone by the time we arrived. If they were still raiding, we could all bridge-drop together.

“But the orc lord’s dangerous, isn’t it?” inquired Satsuki. “Everyone knows about the warnings the guild puts up...”

“I’m sure Souta will keep us safe,” said Risa.

“Absolutely,” I confirmed.

No monster on the fifth floor was strong enough to survive one of my punches at my level, and the orc lord was no exception.

Satsuki didn’t look convinced, looking at me with suspicion. In her eyes, I was someone she needed to protect, not someone she could rely on for protection.

She’d figure out how strong I was as we continued raiding and built up trust in me, so there was no need to tell her my level.

The three of us headed to the fifth floor silently, as each had plenty to think about.