David activated the contract mark, tracing mysterious symbols in the air with his fingers, these symbols emitting a faint glow, precisely the mark of the servant contract.
In front of each Black Mage appeared a contract, these contracts exuding an irresistible force.
"Submit, or die."
David's voice echoed again, this time colder, devoid of any warmth.
The Black Mages exchanged glances, they knew this was the final choice.
One by one, they gritted their teeth, eyes filled with reluctance and humiliation, but ultimately chose submission.
They reached out their hands, touching the contracts before them, the glow of the contracts instantly enveloping them as a strange force surged into their bodies.
This was the price of submission, also the shackle of survival.
The force of the contract circulated within the Black Mages, their eyes grew vacant, then gradually regained their clarity.
But this time, their eyes held no spark of resistance, only deep submission.
