Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 073. Familiar (2)

“Did you actually listen to what I just said?”

“Do I look deaf to you? I took a hell of a beating, but I’m perfectly fine.”

“Answer seriously!”

“I am serious.”

At Anagin’s far-too-easy response to something so serious, Sphinx snapped in anger, only to fall silent instead. She had been overwhelmed by Anagin’s gaze.

“...Taking on a familiar isn’t an easy thing.”

“What’s difficult about it?”

As if ready to listen, Anagin sat down on the floor.

“The fact that it’s a contract between the two of us.”

“Wouldn’t that be fine for me? You’re the one in need here, so I’m the one in charge, and you’re the subordinate.”

Whether it was a joke or sincerity was unclear, but Sphinx let out an involuntary snort of laughter. The guilt weighing on her heart felt a little lighter thanks to that infuriating mouth of his.

“It pisses me off, but you’re right. You’re the one in charge, I’m the subordinate. Still, a contract is a contract. We both have obligations.”

“Tell me. The obligations. And don’t make it too long.”

Sphinx obliged.

“For me to transform into a human, another person’s will has to act on me, not my own. If I try to transform by my own will, I can’t, because that’s the price of the vow.”

Anagin more or less understood.

It was a kind of loophole. After forming a familiar contract, Anagin giving Sphinx a ‘command’ wouldn’t be her ‘own will,’ but ‘another’s will,’ making transformation possible.

It sounded like wordplay, but magic itself was basically wordplay to begin with, so it seemed fine.

‘Wait, why do I know this? Who did I hear it from?’

For a moment, Anagin felt puzzled at the magical principles surfacing unconsciously in his mind, but he set them aside and focused on what was in front of him.

“There are two conditions. First, you have to genuinely want to turn me into a human. Second, your Yeom has to be consumed in the transformation.”

“Yeom? The thing used for magic? I can’t use magic.”

“Whether you can use magic or not, everyone has Yeom. It’s just dressed up nicely, but Yeom is ultimately a kind of mental energy—will, desire—that everyone possesses.”

“Ah, right.”

“Even if you can’t use magic, once we make the contract, I can draw on that Yeom. But there’s a problem.”

Sphinx pressed her lips together and exhaled deeply through her nose, as if it were hard to say.

“You might end up consuming an enormous amount of Yeom. Like I said before, transforming into a human drains Yeom heavily. If things go wrong, you could end up a total wreck.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not so pathetic that I’d end up a wreck over someone like you.”

Anagin both dismissed and reassured Sphinx at the same time.

She made a strange expression, unsure whether to be angry or grateful.

“.......”

“What? Is there more? I don’t like long stories.”

“...If I become your familiar, you basically have to protect me.”

“Cleaning, laundry, cooking, dishwashing, and other miscellaneous chores, you do all that, and we’re good.”

“...Didn’t that list get way longer just now?”

“Oh, if you don’t like it, then don’t do it.”

This time, Sphinx fell silent for a different reason.

They were things she’d already been doing anyway, but seeing them officially added to the list at this exact moment left her both speechless and indignant.

“No helping it. I’ll accept it.”

“Ah, that’s a relief. Now I can work you to the bone without a guilty conscience. Not that I ever had one in the first place.”

Faced with a tongue sharp enough to turn friends into enemies, Sphinx desperately steadied herself and moved on to the next point.

“The contract we form is a bilateral contractual relationship. Each side has obligations and rights, and if those aren’t upheld, the contract can be broken. And if one side breaks it unjustly, they’ll have to pay an appropriate price.”

“I kind of want to exploit you unilaterally. Is that not an option?”

Anagin asked, half-serious.

Sphinx answered with a smile.

“If I’m going to turn into a human, no. If I get nothing, how could I transform? If you just want to use me, you’d have to make a subjugation-type contract.”

“How do you do that?”

“You beat me half to death and threaten me into becoming your slave.”

“It’s a tempting option, but then I’d look like a total bastard. Let’s go with the former.”

Anagin chose to take Sphinx on not through a one-sided subjugation contract, but through a bilateral contractual relationship.

The decision was made, yet Sphinx didn’t move.

“...Why are you helping me this much?”

“Do I need a reason to help someone?”

“There really isn’t any reason for you to go this far. We travel together, sure, but…….”

Sphinx’s voice gradually trailed off. Was it just his imagination, or did he hear the unspoken words, Please tell me?

Anagin almost ignored it, then answered.

“Do you know why I want to become a god?”

“...No. Come to think of it, I don’t really know the reason.”

“To erase my incompetence and powerlessness.”

“...?”

“And to erase the humiliation of my past, when I was incompetent and powerless.”

Anagin recalled his hometown during the time of the plague.

The freezing winter when villagers dropped dead one after another from a nameless disease that arose from unknown causes.

First the elders, then the children, then the women, then the men.

The elders who made sure Anagin had food, the kids who followed him around calling him big brother, the women he danced with at festivals, the friends he’d acted like idiots with—all of them died.

Among them were Anagin’s father, mother, and younger sister.

He did everything he could to cure them, but he failed.

He could never forget it—the moment when the will he believed invincible was broken, his efforts faded, and he tasted helplessness and humiliation.

“If I become one of those so-called gods, I’ll be able to do whatever I want, whenever I want. And then this filthy humiliation will disappear as if washed away.”

“.......”

“Helping you is the same logic. I want to, so I do it. That’s all there is—nothing more, nothing less. Do you need another reason?”

“...No.”

“Then let’s hurry up and do that contract or whatever. This is starting to get annoying.”

* * *

Fortunately, the contract itself wasn’t difficult or troublesome.

It was short and concise.

After Sphinx and Anagin each cut their palms, they shook hands with bloodstained hands, recited the terms of the contract along with an incantation, and mutually agreed—then it was done.

He had expected something far more elaborate, so it was a bit disappointing.

To the point where he almost wondered if the contract had truly been formed.

“Seems like it worked properly?”

Sphinx, having returned to her human form, said as she looked herself over.

She looked genuinely surprised, as if even she found her transformation into a human astonishing. And for good reason, if Anagin hadn’t sincerely wished for her to become human, or if his Yeom had been insufficient, the transformation would have been unstable.

Yet, as if to say that worry had been needless, Sphinx had returned completely to her original appearance.

“...Thank you.”

She expressed her gratitude upon seeing her restored form, and Anagin accepted it.

“Say that every time you do my laundry. Say ‘Thank you.’”

“My feeling of gratitude is disappearing.”

“Then go play with someone else. They’re waiting outside.”

Sphinx didn’t understand what he meant, but once she opened the door, she did.

Standing in the corridor were Kori and Pais, waiting with serious expressions.

When Sphinx emerged in her human form, the two were startled, then quickly showed emotions like remorse and guilt.

The siblings stood frozen, wanting to apologize but wondering if they even had the right to do so

As if reading their minds, Sphinx opened her arms and called to them.

“Hello, kids.”

Only then did Kori and Pais relax and move toward Sphinx.

Anagin left them to it and headed off somewhere else. By now, he’d done more than enough.

Watching Anagin leave, Sphinx asked,

“Where are you going?”

“My luggage went missing. I’m going to ask where it is.”

* * *

After it was revealed that Sphinx was a familiar rather than a monster, they boarded the airship the Instructor had produced from his robes, though they didn’t set off immediately.

Whether it was because people had grown attached after spending time together, or because of a sense of kinship as fellow practitioners, the New Argonaut Expedition Team and the original Argonaut Expedition Team stayed to support and console the injured members of the Western Alliance.

‘Many things have happened, but through this, you have all escaped the demonic clutches of the Forest Brotherhood.’

While these words weren’t false, the reaction from the people of the Western Alliance was lukewarm at best.

Having suffered immense losses due to Periphetes and Erysichthon while coming away with nothing in hand, their reaction was natural.

Peace itself could be called the most precious treasure, but to those who had come expecting spoils, it was nothing more than empty preaching.

The reason such a large crowd had gathered wasn’t just out of a sense of crisis; they had also intended to raid the Forest Brotherhood in return and make a fortune.

As the atmosphere worsened, Meleager the Immortal stepped in on behalf of his younger sibling.

‘Why are you all acting like this? You are the ones who protect a region in place of the gods. Isn’t the greatest fame gained this time the fact that you joined forces with us to defeat the wicked villain, Erysichthon?’

‘......!’

‘Just defeating Erysichthon, who had extended his clutches into the Western Anapik, will surely please the gods. Of course, the world will respect you all even more as well.’

For practitioners, the most important things were the gods’ blessing and fame.

Meleagros, the great hero of the Argonaut Expedition, chose to share that honor.

Someone might have asked Anagin if he felt it was unfair.

After all, wasn’t it Anagin who had actually traded blows with Erysichthon?

But Anagin didn’t particularly care. In the middle of the fight, his Interspatial Bag, his shattered Beast Cleaver, and Giant’s Bed had been sent flying and smashed apart, and he had been too busy gathering them up to worry about such things.

Even if he had the time to argue, he had no intention of doing so.

While Anagin was kicked away by Erysichthon, it was Sphinx who bought time, and in the end, it was the two heroes of the Argonaut Expedition who forced him to retreat.

Anagin had no desire whatsoever to claim it was thanks to him.

Ah, correction. In the end, it wasn’t the two heroes who made Erysichthon retreat.

Even the two heroes were merely side branches—the one who truly drove Erysichthon away was someone else. The instructor of Chiron Tower.

“No, should I call you Mr. Chiron?”

Inside the airship’s captain’s cabin.

Anagin entered and asked the elderly man sitting there.

The old man, who had naturally taken the seat of honor, replied.

“Whatever’s comfortable. What business do you have?”

The instructor didn’t deny that he was Chiron. After all, he had calmly conversed with Erysichthon, and the two heroes of the Argonaut Expedition had called him Master, denying it would have been stranger.

Knowing that, Anagin spoke casually.

“Did you perhaps take my bag?”

Anagin asked about the whereabouts of his Interspatial Bag.

He was certain he had roughly set it down in the room he’d been assigned after eating and falling asleep, but when he woke up, it was gone.

He’d stayed calm and decided to look for it after collecting himself, but in truth, he’d been flustered.

First, he hadn’t expected anyone to steal something in such a confined space, and second, he hadn’t thought there’d be anyone who could carry something that heavy.

But there was.

“Ah, this.”

Chiron lifted Anagin’s Interspatial Bag and set it down on the floor.

He put it on the floor rather than the table, worried the table might collapse.

As if to prove the point, when the Interspatial Bag hit the ground, a heavy thud rang out.

“Impressive, carrying something this heavy around. Quite unnecessarily.”

“It’s good exercise. But why did you take the bag? If you’d said something, I would’ve paid the fare.”

“I don’t need money. I’m far richer than you.”

Anagin couldn’t refute that. He didn’t think he could be richer than someone who carried a shrunken airship in their robes.

“There was something I wanted to check.”

As Chiron said that, he took out the shattered Beast Cleaver and its fragments, along with the Giant’s Bed, whose chain portion had been severed.

He had been examining Anagin’s broken equipment.

“Why?”

“It broke while you were fighting in place of my disciples, so I thought I might be able to fix it.”

He hadn’t exactly fought in their place, but Anagin didn’t bother pointing that out.

Normally, he would have, but at the possibility of repairing the Beast Cleaver and the Giant’s Bed, he kept quiet. Anagin did have some tact!

“Can you fix them? I heard it’s hard to repair magic tools.”

”You’re quite sharp.”

“Yeah. Why do I even know that?”

Anagin was surprised by the sudden knowledge surfacing in his mind. Perhaps his master’s teachings, which he had mostly ignored, had stuck in his ears?

Regardless, he got back to the point.

”Well, to get straight to the conclusion, I can fix them.”

“Oh.”

“Of course, it won’t be easy.”

”Dammit... What do I have to do to fix them?”

“That—”

Just as Chiron was about to answer, Tramachus entered the captain’s cabin.

Even if one could carry an airship around, one couldn’t carry a crew, so Chiron’s disciples were currently working as the crew.

Tramachus entered the cabin, paused briefly upon seeing Anagin, then reported to Chiron.

“Master. We’ll be arriving at the Tower shortly.”