Wade frowned, staring at the Viscount as if he'd misheard.
"My… skills? How could you possibly take my skills?"
Fairchild's grin didn't waver. In fact, it widened, showing the faintest gleam of teeth.
"A fair question. You see, young man, the magic of contracts is binding in ways far more creative than you can imagine."
"A clause can be written, tied directly to your health points. The moment they dip into the critical range where death is assured, the contract activates."
"Every non-Origin Skill bound by that clause is pulled from your body and crystallized into skill stones."
He leaned forward. "Stones that would then belong to me."
Wade blinked. He felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine. "That's… possible?"
"Rare, yes," Fairchild said smoothly, his fingers tapping idly on the desk, "but very possible."
"It is one of the few ways skills can be taken from an adventurer without killing them outright."
