"Stay still," John coldly said to Lanmar, his voice cutting through the giant’s remaining bravado like a sharp razor.
"If you want to create more holes in your body until you can’t move, then be my guest. But forget about running, forget about dying. You’ll live to serve and other humans, Lanmar! You’ll learn exactly what a fallen race is capable of when pushed to the edge."
John held the finger-sized golden scroll in one hand, moving it steadily towards one of Lanmar’s many oozing wounds. He had already placed a single drop of his own crimson blood on the parchnt, binding the Master-end of the contract to his own. Now, it was ti to test the validity of the Bulltor’s claims and the System’s ability to enforce alien laws.
His friends gathered around in a tight circle, their faces a mask of awe and trepidation. As for the other Bulltors, the thought of resisting flickered briefly in their dark eyes, but the cold reality of Ricky’s earlier warning—and the sight of John’s cruel attacks on Lanmar—kept them rooted to the spot.
Choosing between living or dying was a simple equation for most, but Lanmar’s pride was a stubborn thing. He tried to resist one last ti, surging to his feet with a guttural roar, intent on crushing John’s skull before the contract could touch him.
John didn’t even flinch. He simply activated his Sandbox ability, vanishing into thin air. He didn’t try any trick this ti, simply attacking Lanmar directly.
Before Lanmar could even grasp John’s disappearance, the latter reappeared in the giant’s blind spot, his hands dancing, attacking the giant’s body in different places while absorbing more ntal Points to replenish the ntal Points consud by using his abilities.
Ten more holes appeared in Lanmar’s thighs and shoulders, the pain forcing a scream from his throat and dropping him back to his knees in the dirt.
"See, it’s not that hard," John said, reappearing fully out of the illusion area. He finally let the golden scroll touch the thick, blue blood coating Lanmar’s arm. The reaction was instantaneous.
The scroll began to shine with a brilliance that rivalled the defensive tower’s activation, glowing in a fierce golden light before vanishing into fine ash. It looked as though an invisible, golden fire had consud the paper, announcing the successful activation of the contract.
A notification then flashed in front of John’s eyes.
[Ding! The Magical Contract 5333678541 is now in effect!]
[Ding! The Bulltor will follow your commands, never betray you, and never lie to you. Your life is now bound to his—as long as you live, he serves!]
"Fck you, human!" Lanmar shouted, the sound more like a desperate scream of a broken soul. Yet, the mont his eyes t John’s, a visible shiver ran through his massive fra.
It felt as if a hidden, irresistible power was pushing against his soul, forcing him to bow his head unwillingly in a gesture of absolute submission. The contract was effective imdiately, and John and his friends saw how it worked right on the spot.
"Now," John turned his cold eyes towards the remaining Bulltors, who were watching their leader’s humiliation with wide, terrified eyes. "One by one, stand in line. Let give you the honour of serving us. Or else..."
John didn’t need to threaten them any longer. Even their fierce commander had succumbed. Over the next half hour, John bound the other ten Bulltors to himself. He used the sa process to activate the contract. He moved among them, touching their skin and sucking away vast amounts of ntal Points, fully recharging his reserves.
"You know, you sotis scare ," Cissel whispered, leaning in close as the eleven Bulltors were ordered to pick up the scattered items around. They were now walking behind the humans like a train of pack mules, carrying all the loot that had co from the cracked bracelet, beside other storage ornants as well. "But I like that dangerous version of you. It’s quite... Hot!"
"Shut up," John chuckled, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. He knew Cissel was just teasing him to break the grim atmosphere, but her words brought a small, genuine smile to his face. Once he had taken control of the risk—nullifying the chance of a backstab in the night amidst their sleep—there was no reason to remain in this exposed field.
"So they are now safe and docile?" Luke asked, moving his eyes warily between the eleven silent, obviously enraged, yet physically restrained Bulltors. "They won’t try to slit our throats while we’re sleeping at the base?"
"Never," John said firmly. "The contract is absolute. Their very instinct to harm has been restricted by the Source Code World’s laws. As for what to do next, we need to go back to the base first, further explore the rest of the storage devices we collected, and plan our next big harvest."
"Next big harvest?" Ricky noticed a sharpness in John’s tone. "Is there more of this loot out there?"
The fog tide was still acting wild, the brown mist swirling in violent eddies and booming with thunder every few minutes. Grasping John’s aning, Ricky moved his eyes toward the roiling wall of the fog, having a faint idea about what John truly intended to do.
"First off," John said, turning his gaze toward Lanmar, who was trudging along with a massive load of different objects on his back. "He said he was a one-hundred-man commander, and only fifty-three made it out of the fog. That ans the remaining forty-seven are sowhere out there, likely scattered along the path they took to co here."
"And they will co and kill you..." Lanmar tried to stick to his old, defiant character, but the mont he tried to lie, his throat constricted, and his face turned a sickly shade of purple.
Under the silent, knowing glance of John, he was forced to vomit out the truth. "They are dead... All dead! The lightning took them before we got out of the deadly fog."
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