Chapter 65: The Employment Labor Contract

Bourn could tell that Raymond was worried, and this pleased him. At the very least, Raymond’s loyalties were in the right place, not given over to excessive sympathy. Bourn snapped his fingers lightly, and a cabinet beside him opened. A scroll floated out and landed in Raymond’s hands.

“This is the contract? A ten-year term of employment?”

And why on earth was it titled “Employment Labor Agreement”?

Raymond felt a headache coming on; clearly, Bourn was up to something new.

“Yes! It’s to silence the others,” Bourn replied nonchalantly. Knowledge could only spread if civilization advanced; Dean Conchenio had pioneered the academy-based model of teaching, replacing the old master-apprentice system.

Now, Bourn was simply being clever—trading ten years of these children’s freedom for knowledge. It was worth noting most of these street kids were only seven or eight years old. In exchange for ten years of freedom, they would receive Bourn’s protection: food, shelter, and a measure of learning. They were getting an extraordinary deal!

By the standards Bourn remembered from Earth, this would make him a black-hearted slaver, the kind who’d be sentenced to rot in prison. Yet here, these terms were astonishingly generous. Many desperate vagrants either sold themselves to nobles or great houses—if lucky, as servants or tenant farmers, if not, as lifelong slaves. They had virtually no rights or freedom; a servant might at least garner compensation for accidental death, but slaves died for nothing.

And these contracts were recognized and protected by the Lord of Radiance! If anyone dared run, the clergy themselves would issue warrants and help hunt them down. Everyone, from nobles to commoners, understood this rule; unless truly desperate, no one would sell themselves. That’s why the East District teemed with vagrants and criminals!

“This contract must remain confidential for now. We’ll sift out the gifted ones, give them separate instruction, have them study the ‘Code of the Mercantile Guild’ morning, noon, and night, and reinforce loyalty before sleep. Follow the old training regimen from the guild.”

Raymond’s expression was grave, but he understood: only those with value could stay. Sevendon had at least several tens of thousands of vagrants, over ten thousand homeless children! They couldn’t possibly take everyone in, and those who did stay paid only the price of loyalty.

In Bourn’s memory, with the rise of arcane arts and the ascent of floating cities, it seemed everyone could wield a spell or two. As for the details, the memory was as foggy as ever. Frustrating as it was, life had to go on. Bourn could only make educated guesses from scattered clues.

Ten years would be about right; Bourn was confident that by then, even if he couldn’t become a maker of new rules, he’d at least be one of those who shaped them! The signal sent from the Mage Tower yesterday made it clear: he now held the key to the higher ranks.

With his current magical power, advancing to a high-level mage was no problem. But Bourn’s ambitions certainly weren’t so modest.

From Sir John the Knight Commander and the Count, it was obvious—even among the high ranks, there were levels. Count Iolemn could fight a dozen high-ranking professionals at once. And his specialty wasn’t even in the energy arts, but alchemy. (The Eight Major Schools would only be subdivided during Nather’s golden age of arcane power—currently, there were just three branches.)

In plain terms, he was an alchemy master, and even so, formidable in battle. If a high-level arcane mage specializing in destruction came along, the results would be terrifying…

“How about the matter of the land?” Bourn shifted in his seat, picking up the barley tea Lilith had brewed.

After a few days of Bourn’s training, the two youngsters could now handle daily chores. Watching Blake and Lilith standing by, Raymond nodded to himself; meeting Bourn might be the luckiest event in their lives.

“According to your instructions, I acquired all the streets near the property. Because of the evil contamination, most shops have been hit hard, and since it’s the East District, we got them at a very low price. Even those not for sale, we leased for twenty years as you directed,” Raymond said with some worry. “Boss, this will tie up all our funds; after accounting for development costs, we only have enough left for two months!”

“Two months?” Bourn was surprised. “The budget’s that tight? But two months is plenty—tell the men to start work tomorrow.”

“Boss, are you sure this area will really go up in value?” Raymond was still uneasy.

“Take the ‘are you sure’ out of the question! It absolutely will!” Bourn sounded exasperated. “Even if you don’t trust yourself, you should have faith in me.”

“I suppose that’s true, but something about the way you say it feels a little off,” Raymond muttered, scratching his head.

Bourn didn’t let him dwell on it and quickly sent him away—there was simply no time for idle chatter with such a packed schedule. Raymond left, bewildered, staring at the “new contract” in his hand with a wry smile. The boss made it sound easy, but putting it into practice would be trouble; for the next few days, he’d be running flat out.

Once Raymond was gone, Bourn stood silently, deep in thought. He had no wish to risk offending the entire nobility, but this was crucial for testing an important suspicion from his memories.

Legendary destiny!

“Blake, Lilith, time to get to work. Bring me numbers seven, eleven, and seventeen.”

Bourn quickly immersed himself again in his magical experiments.

He knew well that strength was everything. Only with power could he truly claim what was his; without it, with no backing, even what you owned might not be yours for long. Now that he had so many people depending on him, Bourn couldn’t help but recall his past life, struggling to build a business—but this time, he didn’t need to lead the charge himself. He simply needed to become strong, strong enough to shield those who followed him, strong enough that others would speak to him with respect.

The space-manipulation experiments were the most complex magic Bourn had ever encountered. The patterns and calculations were entirely unlike ordinary spell algorithms. He’d considered making a chip to help with the calculations, but when he tried summoning shadow matter, he felt a chilling, ominous presence watching him. Instantly, he understood: something unknown from the other side had taken notice.

So he put the “chip project number two” on hold, focusing on experimental spell simulations to shorten the time needed to develop new spell patterns.

Time passed swiftly.

That day, the outer barrier was triggered. Within minutes, Bourn watched as his painstakingly reinforced defenses were breached. Surveying the wreckage, he clutched his chest, nearly breathless.

Only then did he recall—someone had told him he was supposed to attend a banquet. Looking at his grandfather, who was furious at being stood up, Bourn stood quietly and obediently, not daring to speak.

The Count swept his gaze over the room, spotted the two god-demon-blooded children, and said nothing. With a cold snort, he waved his hand. The floating Ian Stone above his head flared with brilliant light.

Instantly, a blue magic circle unfurled, centered on the Count.

Bourn’s eyes lit up—he immediately ordered his mind to record the data.

As the magic circle expanded, pale blue lines of power swiftly wove together, forming strange magical runes.

The Count reached out, and a crystal staff materialized in his grasp. He drove it forcefully into the ground.

The sudden move caught the two youngsters completely off guard. Their god-demon blood gave them powerful senses—they could tell, instantly, that the person before them was unimaginably strong.

So strong, they began to doubt whether he was even human.

A torrent of magical power surged; the space around them shifted. When they regained their senses, they were in an unfamiliar place.

Their first experience with spatial teleportation left the two children pale as sheets, struggling to suppress the violent waves of nausea.

…