'To even write a single letter with this pen hurts quite a bit, the dark red liquid in which it writes must be blood, my blood.

They ensure that you'll respect the terms of the contract simply thanks to your signature. This must be related to witchcraft, magic, or as they call it here, soul power.

To make it simple I either abide by the terms written here or I'll probably die. I have already made my decision, I won't back down at this point.'

Slowly, but consistently Nestor kept writing word after word until his complete name appeared on the bottom-left section of the contract.

Then the contract folded itself in a circular manner, resembling an ancient scroll, then it quickly burned up with black flames.

"The bird of sin Kanatul just witnessed your oath, do not belittle what you just did, as your soul has been put on the line.

From now on you can call me teacher. Even after the six months' worth of training, I'll welcome you here, if you'd ever be tired of the outside world. Sometimes only in solitude, you can find your true self again, to not be swayed by the judgment of others."

Following a few coughs, Lenard stood up and indicated Nestor to follow him.

'He briefly mentioned something about my previous life before, even if it seemed more like a guess, but now I can feel it. He knows some private information about my past self, I have told only Linneo that I was a monk before.

The council must know of this then. There is nothing I can do about it though, only I'll pay more attention when disclosing something to them.'

Soon after Nestor trailed behind him, the tired scholar kept a slightly hunched figure, he also seemed to suffer some kind of incapability. The scholar was quickly dragging his feet, one after the other, at a better glance Nestor quickly noticed that Lenard's legs were very thin.

'This man, he isn't used to walking, he clearly had a rough time coming all the way here as well. He wasn't out of breath because he run here, but he simply has an extremely weak physique.'

As if to read Nestor's inner worries, Lenard's gasping voice resounded between the white walls of the empty corridor.

"Haaah. Young disciple, your teacher is a scholar through and through, but you need to know that I have been in such a state for many years. I have the means to avoid the collapse of this body of mine.

You see, a true academic does not need their body to nor beautiful or in perfect shape. Through means that you would call mystical, we can treat our bodies as nothing more than tools, needed so that we can keep our studies going."

Then a small vial appeared on the mad scholar's right hand, a steaming blue liquid was held inside. Lenard didn't hesitate and quickly poured the liquid inside his mouth. He gulped it down and resumed his walk.

Only, step after step his legs condition improved and his walking posture stabilized. Truly an inexplicable phenomenon.

Corridor after corridor, Nestor started to witness some other bizarre happenings.

A group of flying green candles quickly passed near them, they seemed in a hurry as if they were being late for an important meeting.

At a time Nestor even saw a door grow up with skinny little legs and hurry in another direction, all while still being attached to the marble walls of the corridor.

Even more baffling were the portraits hanging on the walls. They mostly represented aged humans with a few rarer humanoids, they all had a certain air of wisdom around them. They probably had been illustrious scholars of the academy.

Yet these very paintings were somewhat alive, they often would move inside their portrait, intensively staring at the passersby. Looking back at them would often be seen as an act of disrespect on their behalf, which they responded to with cruel smirks.

"Don't let yourself be conditioned too much by the peculiar happenings of our dear academy. These walls are famous for their illusory capability, here reality and illusions are often mistaken for one another, in both ways."

Nestor didn't consider himself a coward, not anymore at least. Yet these cold corridors had truly put him to test, so far he already held back a few screams.

Ten minutes passed and Lenard took out a metallic key, which even if splendidly clean didn't seem extravagant in every way. Yet once it touched the wall a wooden door appeared all of a sudden.

The wood is polished and clean, very light in color with the handle made out of rough, black metal.

The inside resembled that of an ancient armory, as many weapons of various shapes were being held either in wooden chests or large shelves.

The weapons weren't really well kept, a lot of dust had accumulated over them as if they weren't even worth the effort.

After a quick look, Nestor noticed that Lenard had moved closer to him while taking out his soul tablet.

"Young disciple, I need to take a quick look at your tablet and tweak it a bit, to make your stay here easier of course. Meanwhile chose a weapon that may catch your fancy."

Nestor quickly obliged and trod forward, directed to the nearest shelf. He was quickly surprised by the variety of the weapons held in the armory. They were mostly made out of metal, while a few were even out of a crystal-like material.

They ranged from the likes of medium-sized straight swords to even heavier longswords and greatswords. Even more blunt weapons were present in the mix, from war hammers to spiked maces.

He spent a few minutes searching into the chests too until he found a good-looking spear. It was as tall as him, yet it wasn't extremely heavy, he could probably already start training with it.

'I have never fought before, in my past life I already saw plenty of death and blood, however, it was that of the ill and wounded. I never participated in an act of violence before, with me as the perpetrator.

Maybe a spear would be the right approach for a greenhorn in the art of war such as myself.'

So he thought, yet he soon had to think twice about such a decision, as a particular weapon was calling out for him. A strange sensation that attracted him towards a certain location, a feeling that stemmed from his very self.

' Could this phenomenon be related to my 'soul' ?'