A Judicator.
Not a primordial spirit or a native god. A cosmic lawyer. A rogue agent from the same damn supernatural IRS that had refereed my Wager of Realms. The Architect's agent, the Duchess Vane, had been a reincarnator playing a long game of chess. This thing was a predator that had carved out a small, bloody kingdom for itself based on the fine print of soul-binding contracts.
This changed everything. I wasn't just fighting a monster. I was fighting a concept. A being whose very existence was tied to the sanctity of pacts and debts. And I, by healing the Baron, had just committed grand larceny against the most powerful creditor in the kingdom.
Elara looked at me, her face pale with terror. "My lord, to hunt the Collector… it is suicide. Its power is not of this world. It cannot be fought with sword or spell. It operates on… rules."
"Then I will break its rules," I said, a cold, analytical fire in my eyes.
The beauty of this situation was exquisite. In Aethelgard, I was an anomaly, a rogue element in a world of established cultivation tiers. Here, in Veridia, I was something far more dangerous. I was an "illegal immigrant" in the cosmic sense. The Collector's power was based on the laws and pacts of this world. I was not of this world. My soul was not bound by its history, its gods, or its contracts. I was, theoretically, outside its jurisdiction.
This was not a battle I would win with raw power. My cultivation was still nascent. A fight against a being that could likely command Ninth Circle magic or its equivalent would be a fool's errand. No, this would be a battle of concepts. A legal battle, fought with the weapons of souls and loopholes.
My first step was to arm myself. Not with a sword, but with knowledge.
"Elara," I commanded. "Tell me every legend, every rumor, every child's fairy tale you have ever heard about the Collector of Oaths. How it makes its deals. What it offers. And most importantly, what it takes when a deal is broken."
For three days, I immersed myself in the lore of my new nemesis. Elara, drawing upon her family's cursed history, painted a chilling picture. The Collector was a being of absolute transactional integrity. It always delivered on its promises. A mercenary captain could be made a baron. A dying woman could be granted another decade of life. A poor farmer could be given a harvest that would last a lifetime.
But the price was always a piece of the debtor's essence. A memory. A decade of their lifespan, to be collected at a later date. Their skill with a sword. Their capacity for love. And for the greatest boons, like the Von Hess barony, the price was a soul.
When a debt was called due, the Collector would manifest. And if the debtor could not pay, it would simply… repossess. It would take the harvest back, turning the fields to dust. It would take the life it had granted, turning the body to ash. It would take the barony, erasing its name from all maps and memories. It was not a creature of malice. It was a creature of perfect, terrifying balance.
I now understood my enemy. Its power was not in its physical might, but in its conceptual authority.
It was time to prepare the battlefield.
My message to the King of this land, a man named Alaric, had been sent. A response had come back, not from the King himself, but from his Grand Magus, a man named Lord Vorlag. It was a summons. The court was intrigued by the "miracle" in the Barony of Hess, and they demanded the "Fallen Star" present himself in the capital city of Highmont to demonstrate his power.
They were testing me. Trying to gauge if I was a threat, a charlatan, or a potential asset.
It was the perfect stage. I would not just defeat the Collector. I would do it in front of the entire kingdom's ruling class. I would make my debut not just as a hero, but as a power that could defy the ancient, unassailable laws of their world.
"We are going to Highmont," I announced to Elara. "We will answer the King's summons."
"But, my lord," she stammered, "the Collector… it will find you. It is drawn to its debtors."
"I'm counting on it," I said, a slow, predatory smile on my face.
We journeyed to the capital. It was a grand city of high towers and magical bridges, a stark contrast to the rustic frontier. I arrived not as a vagabond, but as a holy figure, the "Saint of Hess," with the fanatically devoted Lady Elara at my side.
We were granted an audience in the throne room. King Alaric was a powerful man, a Swordmaster of the highest order, his aura a palpable weight in the room. Beside him, Lord Vorlag, the Grand Magus, regarded me with eyes that crackled with raw magical power. They were the twin pillars of this kingdom.
"So," the King's voice boomed. "You are the 'Fallen Star' who cured the Von Hess curse. A bold claim. The Collector's pacts are absolute. Such a thing should be impossible."
"The laws of mortals and the whims of ancient things are of little concern to the heavens," I replied, my voice calm and serene, playing the part of the divine envoy to perfection.
"Then prove it," the Grand Magus hissed, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Show us a miracle."
And then, as if on cue, the atmosphere in the throne room plunged. The torches flickered, casting long, dancing shadows. A profound, unnatural chill filled the air. A figure began to coalesce in the center of the room, a being woven from shadow and old promises. It was tall and gaunt, clad in a gray, tattered robe, its face a smooth, featureless mask of polished bone. The Collector of Oaths.
The entire court froze in terror. The King and his Grand Magus shot to their feet, their hands flying to their sword and staff.
[A debt has been defaulted upon,] the Collector's voice was the sound of dry leaves skittering across a tombstone, echoing in everyone's mind. [The soul of Baron Von Hess was my property. It has been stolen. I have come to collect the thief.]
Its featureless face turned, and its gaze, a physical weight of ancient, binding law, fell upon me.
The Grand Magus began to chant, a powerful warding spell forming around him. The King's aura blazed to life.
"Stay your hands," I said, my voice cutting through the panic. I took a step forward, placing myself between the court and the entity. "This is my debt to pay."
I faced the Judicator.
"You are correct," I said, my voice ringing with a strange, legalistic clarity. "I am the one who took the Baron's soul-debt from you. I am the thief."
[Then you will pay the price,] the Collector stated. [Your soul, in exchange for the one you stole.]
"No," I said, a slow, confident smile on my face. "I don't think I will. You see, I am not of this world. Your laws, your pacts, your contracts… they have no jurisdiction over me. I am a foreign entity. You have no legal claim on my soul."
I had just thrown the ultimate legal wrench into its conceptual machinery.
The Collector paused. Its featureless head tilted. It was processing this new, impossible information. I could feel its power probing me, recognizing the alien nature of my soul, the truth of my words.
[Your soul's origin is… anomalous,] it conceded. [You are not bound by the Old Pacts of Veridia. My claim on you is… void.]
A collective gasp went through the throne room. I had just faced down the unassailable god of contracts and won.
"However," I continued, pressing my advantage, "while you have no claim on me, I now have a claim on you."
The Collector's aura flickered with what might have been surprise.
"According to the ancient laws you yourself hold so dear," I said, my voice booming with the authority of a sovereign prosecutor, "a creditor who attempts to seize an asset to which they have no legal claim is guilty of attempted theft. You just tried to steal my soul. That is a breach of your own, sacred rules. And in the court of cosmic law, such a breach carries a penalty."
I pointed a finger at the entity, my own power, the power of a cultivator, of a sovereign, flaring to life. "I am here to collect, Judicator. I claim my payment for your transgression. I claim your name. I claim your authority. I claim your very existence."
The twist wasn't just that I had found a loophole. It was that I had turned my enemy's own, absolute laws against it. I wasn't just a debtor pleading my case. I was a rival creditor, staging a hostile takeover.
But as my power met the Collector's, a final, horrifying realization dawned on me, a detail from the lore I had overlooked. When a Judicator's core law is fundamentally broken, it does not simply die. It enters a 'Default Protocol'. And the Default Protocol for a being whose entire existence is based on transactional balance was a terrifying, absolute concept.
The Collector's form began to dissolve, not into dust, but into pure, contractual energy.
[The law has been broken,] its voice echoed, no longer a threat, but a statement of cosmic fact. [A new pact must be forged to restore the balance. A pact of equals.]
Its dissolving essence shot towards me, not as an attack, but as an offer.
And the System screamed a new, unsolicited quest, a pact that was now being forced upon me by the very laws I had sought to exploit.
[!!! FORCED PACT PROTOCOL INITIATED !!!]
[You have broken the Collector's core law. To restore balance, a new, unbreakable 'Sovereign's Pact' must be formed.]
[The Collector of Oaths will be bound to you, not as a servant, but as your official, symbiotic 'Enforcer of Oaths'.]
[NEW SYSTEM FUNCTION UNLOCKED: 'THE PACTMAKER']
[You may now forge soul-binding contracts. Any who break a pact with you will be hunted down and 'collected' by your Enforcer.]
[THE PRICE: To bind this conceptual being, you must offer an equal concept in return. You have declared yourself a 'sovereign', outside the laws of this world. To anchor the Collector to your soul, you must voluntarily bind yourself to one of Veridia's fundamental laws. You must sacrifice a piece of your 'sovereign freedom'.]
[Choose your binding.]