The silence was sudden and absolute, as if the very air had frozen.
In that instant, Adrian Blake appeared behind the aged magician like a specter torn from nightmare. One hand clasped the man's head, fingers digging into thinning gray hair.
A tide of suffocating pressure swept through the chamber, enough to paralyze thought.
Before Freya could so much as scream, Adrian's other hand struck forward, seizing her elegant neck with the speed of a thunderbolt.
"Plunder."
A single word, but it struck like divine law. In the same moment, the very essence of the magician and Freya—their magic power, their physical strength—was stripped away, drained into Adrian's body.
A gift of his evolving [Plunder] ability, fused with the core of his [Recovery] spell, and honed by cruel necessity.
The aged magician collapsed, trembling, his body now a husk.
Adrian's lips curled in satisfaction as power surged through him, intoxicating as wine.
He turned back to the old man and twisted his wrist.
Crack. Crack. Crack!
Bone snapped. Tendons tore.
The old magician writhed, flailing with impotent limbs, his eyes wide with primal terror. It was pitiful.
Then—crack.
The neck gave way. The bone protruded through skin, and blood sprayed in vivid arcs, drenching Freya in a burst of scarlet.
> [Bite! Random Loot Entry: Magic Scholar (Blue)]
Magic Scholar (Blue): A lifetime of magical study has granted you an intuitive understanding of magical structure. Greatly accelerates the speed of spell comprehension.
Freya stood frozen, red soaking her royal gown, eyes wide as saucers.
Then the body was tossed like garbage.
She blinked once.
Twice.
The horror finally reached her soul.
Adrian turned toward her.
Drip. Drip.
Freya looked down. A crimson trail was trickling off her dress.
Adrian's smile widened.
"Oh my… the mighty Princess Freya. What a face you make when you're afraid."
Her pride flared for one brief moment. Rage and humiliation welled up—before the corpse beside her dragged her spirit into a spiral of dread.
"I-I… please…" she whimpered. "Don't… kill me…"
"Kill you?" Adrian tilted his head, as if confused. "No, no. Why would I kill something useful? You had the same idea once, didn't you? Turning people into tools?"
His fingers loosened.
Freya gasped for air and collapsed to the ground, shaking like a leaf.
"There must be a misunderstanding—" she began.
Crack. His fingers clamped around her chin.
"Trying to stall? To raise your voice and draw help?" he said softly. "You're too late."
And with that, he picked her up like a doll.
Her eyes widened.
Then, the world turned into a blur.
"Wind Walker."
The elven magic ignited around his legs, and gravity itself seemed to yield. A violet gravity ring shimmered briefly, then vanished. His figure launched into the sky like a comet.
The kingdom's defensive barrier—an ancient work of divine architecture—flashed once.
Then it was behind them.
The Red Dragon Emperor's Caged Hands had granted him the ability to pierce through such barriers unchallenged.
Freya watched the capital disappear beneath her, growing smaller and smaller, until even the spires of the royal palace were just glints in the distance.
"Impossible…" she whispered.
They landed hours later, far beyond the reach of royal eyes, in a desolate wilderness lit only by moonlight.
Freya collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, staring up at Adrian with a mixture of horror and disbelief.
"You're declaring war on the Kingdom of Giorar!" she gasped. "Release me now, and you might still escape with your life—"
"Escape?" Adrian chuckled. "Do I look like someone trying to run?"
He crouched before her.
"But I do believe in opportunities. Let's make a deal. If you can amuse me—just a little—I might let you walk away."
The princess paled. "You're mad…"
Then—SLAP!
Her head snapped to the side.
"Make me happy," Adrian said coldly. "You wanted to use others like toys. Now it's your turn."
Freya trembled, her royal pride battling her instinct to survive.
"I am a princess…! I won't be soiled by scum like you!"
"Oh?" Adrian's voice lowered. "Then perhaps you'd prefer this?"
From his storage ring, he drew forth an iron rod.
A moment's incantation, and flame magic turned the metal red-hot.
He laid it before her, grinning.
"I'm not a monster, Freya. You get to choose. This—or this."
He gestured.
"Or both. I recommend the third option."
Tears flooded her eyes.
"No… No…"
Her voice cracked.
"I'll choose you! You… You, Lord Adrian!"
She scrambled to his feet, clutching his trouser leg.
The proud princess, now groveling in the dirt.
He discarded the rod.
Then he placed his palm atop her golden hair.
The Master-Servant Contract circle flared to life in the air around her.
It bound her soul.
A pink glyph—shaped like a collar—engraved itself on her pale neck, glowing faintly.
> [Ding! Master-Servant Contract established: Freya, Magic Hero – Status: Bound]
"Now then," Adrian said, his tone like a king speaking to a commoner. "Do your duty."
Freya stared up at him, trembling.
There was no escape.
No dignity.
No pride.
Her spirit screamed with silent fury.
Filthy mongrel! Filthy mongrel!!
But her voice… was gone.
And Adrian's eyes were growing bored.
"You used to be so eager," he said flatly. "You trafficked women like cattle. But when it's your turn? You're pathetic. A magic hero? What a joke."
"I—I'm not… trash…" she murmured, trying to summon some last shred of defiance.
But it crumbled.
Her spells were useless.
Her strength? Pitiful.
She lasted ten seconds before she broke completely, collapsing into sobs.
Weak.
Docile.
Silent.
"Ah—at least, don't… don't…"
Her eyes rolled back, and she lost consciousness.
Adrian, unbothered, lifted her once more and began walking.
Time passed.
She woke.
The glyph glowed again—pink and unrelenting—triggering the curse.
Her mind cracked further.
And again.
And again.
Twelve times she woke.
Twelve times the collar flared.
And the twelfth time… there was no resistance in her eyes.
Only fear.
And devotion.
"You're learning," Adrian said gently. "Every time you try to hate me… the contract punishes you."
"I… I'm your slave now… I…"
Her voice cracked.
Hatred flared in her chest—and was instantly scorched away by agony.
The collar pulsed.
Her screams echoed into the empty night.