The Sorcerer's Handbook

Sizzle!

[Warning: You are outputting excessive kinetic energy toward a citizen! This is a prohibited act!]

Without Ashe having done anything, a light-screen sprang up before him. Red warning text cascaded like a waterfall, accompanied by a sharp, ear-piercing alarm that stunned him in place.

What the hell? Is this a virus attack? I just got here! I haven’t even browsed any shady websites!

He was completely immobilized for three long seconds before regaining control of his body.

Iger casually pushed aside the fist that had nearly touched his nose and smiled. ”Seems like you’re enjoying life in the Shattered Lake Prison, Ashe. In that case, I won’t disturb you. By the way... that soft, powerless punch of yours is kind of cute.”

The commotion drew the attention of other prisoners in the hall. Even the nearby guard, absorbed in his light-screen device moments before, glanced over. But soon, everyone looked away, as if what had just happened was nothing more than a trivial incident.

Watching Iger disappear down the corridor, Ashe lowered his head and stared at his own fist, utterly confused.

The Death Maniac Swordswoman[1] spoke, ”What’s so surprising? The Miracle Chip at the back of your neck detected your attempt to attack and sent a nerve pulse to control your body temporarily and stop your strike. This technology isn’t limited to prisons. It’s even widely used in livestock farming. Still, judging by what just happened, I’d say it works even better on people.”

”Then... Why did you tell me to hit him?”

She explained lazily, ”Fighting is banned here, and spell use is restricted, but there are still plenty of small tricks available. Forming contracts through spirit arts is one of them. If I’m not mistaken, that man carries a trace of veela[2] bloodline.

”Veelas are highly attuned to mind-manipulation arts. If you had taken his hand and accepted his invitation, you would have formed a contract with him and become one of his so-called friends who help each other.

”In that contract, you must help him, while he can choose whether or not to help you based on his mood. To mind-manipulating sorcerers, there’s barely a difference between a friend and a slave.”

Ashe caught on immediately. If he had actually shaken Iger’s hand, he would have ended up as his subordinate, or worse, someone bound under him during a probationary period. This world is so shady... they don’t even need labor contracts.

Glancing at the other prisoners nearby, he asked, ”Can they see you?”

The Death Maniac Swordswoman replied, ”You can keep talking to me like this, as long as you don’t mind everyone staring and keeping their distance from you like you’re a lunatic. Honestly, I’d rather listen to ivory coming from a dog’s mouth than hear you speaking the trash in your heart. It’s a shame that I do not have a choice. Like they say, you’ve got to play along when you’re under someone else’s roof.”

That confirmed it for Ashe. He looked at her seriously. ”So... you really are the Death Maniac Swordswoman?”

Bored, she leaned against the wall. ”Yes, I am. But you, Watcher... if I hadn’t seen it myself, I never would have imagined you ending up in a place like this. Mind if I laugh at you?”

”I do mind. But... why aren’t you wearing the clothes from your character art?”

She rolled her eyes. ”Aren’t you also wearing the premium, deluxe Shattered Lake Prison inmate uniform? You don’t even look like your character art. And I’m a woman. Were you expecting me to wear the same outfit every day without washing it?”

She had a point. Ashe couldn’t argue, but he couldn’t care less about the details. His eyes lit up. ”Swordwoman, my Doaremon[3], since you’re here, please help me escape this prison!”

”I refuse.”

”Huh?”

She drawled, ”Why should I help you escape? You’ve got food, a place to sleep, and a comfortable setup... isn’t this exactly the kind of place where a useless person like you belongs? Why run? The outside world might be worse. You could treat this as early retirement and finally live the life you’ve always wanted. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

”But I’m stuck with a huge false charge! And in a few days, I have to attend something called the Blood Moon Tribunal! That doesn’t sound like a buffet invitation!”

She nodded thoughtfully. ”Oh... the Blood Moon Tribunal? Heh... then I’m even less inclined to help you escape.”

Ashe almost broke down. He thought he had finally found someone powerful to rely on, only to realize her stockings were so smooth he couldn’t hold on. ”You can’t do this. I’m your—”

Her expression instantly sharpened. ”My what?”

She jabbed a finger hard into his forehead. ”Say it. What were you trying to say? You’re my what? Hmm? Hmm? Hmm?”

With every jab of her finger, Ashe stumbled backward until he hit a bench and slid down into a seated position. He leaned back, but couldn’t escape her persistent poke. She leaned forward, their eyes meeting each other as their noses came close to touching. Ashe saw his own reflection in her wine-red pupils.

She scoffed coldly. ”So what were you trying to say? That you’re my master? Heh. Let me guess. You wanted to hear me shout it a few more times, so your filthy imagination has more material to work with.”

Ashe took a calming breath. ”And what’s wrong with that? You’re just a virtual character in a game. I’m the player. If I die, you won’t continue to exist either. With that bond between us, why can’t you lend me a hand?”

The moment he mentioned the word bond, the Death Maniac Swordswoman reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. She bristled with fury, her expression darkening as veins spread across her bloodshot eyes.

Ashe was startled, but he stood his ground. He straightened, forcing her to lean back. ”Death Maniac Swordswoman, I’m not your master, but I’m not your servant either. If you can’t treat me as an equal, then you might as well crawl back into the game and stay as data.”

Her chest rose and fell like mountains, showing her inner turmoil. Ashe braced himself. Just as he was thinking she might beat him up with her delicate fists, she suddenly smiled. ”A virtual character, hmm? You’re not wrong. I really am just a phantom thought... But Watcher, remember what you said today.”

She spoke each word deliberately, ”You. Are. Not. My. Master. Not now. Not ever.”

Ashe said earnestly, ”I promise.”

”Swear it. Anyone who lies loses their face and won’t get it back for ten thousand years.”

Ashe didn’t fully understand why she cared so much, but since he had no such dirty intentions, he spoke plainly, ”I swear that anyone who lies loses their face and won’t get it back for ten thousand years.”

Hearing that, the Death Maniac Swordswoman looked visibly relieved. She turned and walked away. ”Come on. We’ll talk on the way.”

Ashe perked up. ”Where are we going?”

”To the cafeteria, obviously. Weren’t you going for breakfast?”

”And the prison break...”

She gave a light shrug. ”Honestly, it’s not that I don’t want to help. I can’t. As you see, no one but you can see or touch me. I can’t affect the physical world. So how could I help you escape?”

Ashe felt a wave of disappointment.”Then why even show up? Just to flaunt your new skin?”

”You already said it yourself,” she replied. ”Bond. I’m here to deliver your thirty percent shared experience.”

Ashe jumped up in excitement. ”Great! Come on, I’m ready!”

She sneered. ”Ready your ass. Did you really expect some magical ’bling’ to appear and you’d instantly master all my sword techniques? If that’s the kind of dream you want, go lie down first.”

”Then how are you giving it to me?”

”Simple. Find someone to fight. I’ll transmit the experience while you battle. You’ll automatically make significant progress.”

”No problem!”

By the time they finished talking, they had already arrived at the cafeteria. It looked ordinary, with fixed seating.

Ashe immediately spotted a perfect target. He was a bald, tattooed, muscular man with a scarred face, the type who looked like he’d spent time behind bars for hundreds of murders.

Ashe strode forward and ”accidentally” bumped into the man’s cup. A full glass of milk tipped over, soaking the man’s shoes in white liquid.

Ashe deliberately spoke in a nonchalant tone. ”Oh, sorry about that.”

The bald man looked up and glared at Ashe. He slammed the table hard enough to make it shake, looking like he was about to stand and fight.

Ashe gulped. Just as he was bracing for his first beginner’s battle[4], the man reached into his pocket, pulled out a tissue, crouched, and calmly wiped the milk off his shoes.

The man looked back up at the stunned Ashe and said, ”Just watch your step next time. By the way, I highly recommend today’s milk. It’s really good.”

1. Just as we refer to the Ashe from Sonya’s dream as the Watcher, I’m using the same approach here by calling the Death Manic Swordswoman by her title instead of Sonya. The Swordswoman who appears before Ashe isn’t the same Sonya, and using her title helps keep the two versions clearly distinct. ☜

2. Veela refers to the mythological creature often depicted in fantasy as having alluring abilities, sometimes tied to magic or mental powers. In this context, it means that Iger has a trace of Veela ancestry, which gives him a natural aptitude for mind-manipulating magic ☜

3. Ashe thought of her as his Doraemon because, like the famous blue robot cat who grants Nobita’s wishes, he believed she was capable of making his desperate hopes come true. ☜

4. A beginner’s battle is like a tutorial fight in a game, meant to teach new players the basics of combat and get them accustomed to facing opponents. ☜