After the incident in the testing chamber, silence followed them all the way back to the elevator.
Barns still had a look of disbelief even after he recorded his rank, he hadn't said a single word since the evaluation ended.
Still, his eyes occasionally drifted toward Hugo with that subtle look — a mixture of curiosity and quiet apprehension.
"Let's get the paperwork done," Barns finally said, gesturing for Hugo to follow.
They entered the elevator, the glass doors sliding shut behind them. The soft hum of descent gave way to an ascending rush this time — rising toward the upper administrative floors of the building.
Blue lights traced faint lines up the elevator shaft, reflecting faintly against the glass walls.
Hugo said nothing, simply watching his reflection in the mirrored steel panel across from him. The faint tension in his shoulders hadn't left. The weight of what he'd just done still lingered.
He was playing a game of chess here.
He had to find a way to stand out somehow so his growth won't be interfered with.
Domains valued potential, and that was exactly what he was going to give them, but everything will be on his terms.
The elevator doors opened with a chime.
This level was nothing like the lower evaluation sectors.
It was alive with sound and movement — the muffled hum of conversation, the occasional hiss of mana screens flickering open, and the steady rhythm of footsteps echoing across polished tiles.
Rows upon rows of cubicles stretched out across the vast open space, each occupied by a Contractor in a crisp uniform, dealing with young recruits or digital paperwork projected in midair.
The air smelled faintly of coffee and ink — the metallic tang left behind when a contract seal was freshly drawn.
It was a classic office area.
Hugo followed Barns through the maze-like corridors. He caught snippets of dialogue as they passed — phrases like "rank registration", "Eon calibration forms", and "sponsorship requests."
It all sounded like the bureaucratic backbone of a system much bigger than anyone here.
Barns led him to his section — a compact cubicle wedged between two larger ones, its glass panels tinted blue for privacy. A small floating plaque on the wall read:
BARNABAS ELLROY — Contractor
Inside, the desk was tidy, everything meticulously arranged. A small potted fern sat in the corner beside a holographic photo frame showing a group of young Vanguards smiling proudly.
He sat down, placed his tablet on the desk, and pulled out a clean Eon-bound document. The paper shimmered faintly as it settled before him — blank, waiting.
Barns began filling it in with efficient precision: Hugo's name, his new classification, his level, and rank. Each stroke of the stylus left glowing trails of blue Eon that sank into the page like veins.
Once the contract was filled, he placed it neatly in front of Hugo. The document hovered slightly above the desk, bound in a faint, glowing outline that pulsed softly like a living thing.
"Alright," Barns said, tone returning to its professional calm. "Read it carefully before you sign. Signing with your Eon will automatically register you under our Domain and mark your presence in the system."
Hugo nodded, lowering his gaze to the contract.
The text was written in both ink and light — formal, legalistic, but simple enough to understand.
Clause 1: The signee shall contribute to the Domain's operations and respond to summons during designated periods of activity.
Clause 2: The signee shall not act against the Domain or any of its agents, directly or indirectly.
Clause 3: The Domain shall provide the signee with training, resources, and access to exploration rights within designated Gates.
Clause 4: Violation of the contract will result in immediate revocation of all privileges and other punishments.
It wasn't long, but it was… binding.
There was an unspoken permanence about it — the kind of document that tied you not just in word, but in spirit.
Hugo studied it in silence for a long moment.
Something about it felt heavier than it appeared. Maybe it was the faint hum of the seal waiting for his touch, or maybe the knowledge that this one act would change his life's trajectory.
Finally, he looked up at his uncle.
"I'm okay with the contract," he said calmly. "And I'm willing to sign it… but on one condition."
Barns blinked, caught off guard. "Condition?"
"Yes." Hugo nodded once. "I don't want to take part in the academy program. I want to join last year's batch for their Gate exploration this year."
Barns froze, the words hanging in the air between them. For a moment, he just stared at his nephew, unsure if he'd heard correctly.
"…You what?"
"I want to skip the training," Hugo repeated.
The older man leaned back in his chair, disbelief settling in. He studied Hugo's expression for signs of humor or arrogance — anything to suggest he was joking. But Hugo's face was perfectly calm, his tone level, his eyes steady.
Barns exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. "You do realize what you're asking for, don't you? The training program isn't some optional course. It's a twelve-month preparation cycle — Eon discipline, combat control, resource distribution—"
"I know," Hugo interrupted quietly. "But I'm not interested in the program. I want field experience. Real Gate exposure. Besides i am already a cultivator, why should i be learning with people who are still mortals."
Barns frowned. "That's not how this works, Hugo. The academy program exists for a reason. Even high-rank recruits start there. You don't just walk in and—"
He stopped mid-sentence. Something about Hugo's expression — calm, unwavering — made him pause.
Barns had been around long enough to recognize that look. It wasn't pride or defiance. It was conviction.
Still, he couldn't help the disbelief creeping back into his tone. "Skipping the program… you'd be missing out on training resources, arts, combat instructors, weapons. Not to mention the safety net. Are you really certain about this?"
"Yes."
No hesitation.
Just one word — clean and sharp as a blade.
Barns stared at him for a long moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them. The steady hum of the mana lights filled the space like static.
He opened his mouth to speak again — but the sharp ring of the landline on his desk cut through the tension.
Barns blinked, startled. Hardly anyone used the landline anymore. It was reserved for internal priority calls — high clearance, restricted channels.
He hesitated only a second before picking it up. "Barns Ellroy speaking."
There was no greeting from the other end. Only a composed, quiet voice — male, calm, authoritative.
"Agree to his condition," the voice said. "Assign him to Cadre Five."
Barns froze. The voice was unmistakable — measured, deliberate, and carrying a weight of command that allowed no argument. His grip on the receiver tightened slightly.
After that the line clicked dead.
Silence returned.
He slowly set the phone back on its cradle, staring at it for a moment as though it might explain itself. His brows drew together.
Across the desk, Hugo was watching quietly, trying to read his uncle's expression.
He hadn't heard the conversation so he didn't know what it was about.
Barns let out a slow sigh, leaning back in his chair. "Alright," he said finally, the words heavy with resignation. "It seems your request has been… approved."
Hugo blinked. "Approved?"
Barns nodded slowly. "You won't be added to the program. Instead, you'll be assigned to a field team — Cadre Five. They're part of this year's expedition cycle."
He gestured toward the floating contract. "Go on then. Sign it before someone decides to retract the approval."
Hugo hesitated only a moment before extending his hand.
He pressed his palm against the glowing seal at the bottom of the page and let his Eon flow into it.
The paper reacted instantly — the sigils flaring to life, lines of blue light spreading out like veins through the page before sinking into his skin.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then he felt it — a pulse deep inside him, subtle but undeniable. Like a tether slipping into place. It wasn't painful, but it was alien — a quiet binding that wrapped itself around something fundamental inside his body.
He inhaled sharply. For a brief moment, he felt as though something else — distant and unseen — was watching through that connection.
Then the feeling faded, leaving only the faint warmth of the seal mark glowing briefly on his hand before disappearing.
He exhaled slowly, lowering his arm.
So this was what they meant by energy-bound contracts. A deal that wasn't just written — it was etched into the essence of who you were. Breaking it wouldn't just be betrayal. It would be self-destruction.
Hugo stared at the faint shimmer on his skin for a moment longer, then let his hand fall to his side.
He wasn't worried about this part, not yet.
For now, he had accomplished a goal. And that was enough.