The Sorcerer's Handbook

A trial was underway in the passage between the treatment room and the public lounge.

Beneath their crow masks, the other healers looked at the slightly short No.222 with complicated expressions.

No one questioned the accusation of spell theft made against No.176. If anything, it sounded entirely believable.

A healing spell wasn’t just a technique; it was also a structured method of learning a Miracle. Unlike combat sorcerers, healers, and creation sorcerers didn’t need to face PvP battles. Where combat sorcerers faced the constant threat of an enemy crushing their skull mid-incantation, healers and creation sorcerers could safely extend their casting time to make invoking a Miracle easier.

Because of that privilege, healers and creation sorcerers were able to break Miracles down into long sequences of precise steps. When executed in the right order, those steps formed a Miracle.

Each step was a spell. And once a person learned all the necessary spells, it was only a matter of time until they mastered the Miracle.

Spells were valuable intellectual property. If a sorcerer created a new spell, even one with an extremely narrow scope of application, they could still earn enough licensing fees from other researchers to purchase a ten-year lifespan extension at any of the Four Great Institutes.

That was also why Ashe always woke up alone in the treatment room with only one healer present. No one was allowed to watch another healer perform treatment. It prevented spell theft.

The healer turned to No.201. ”Did the professor send you?”

No.201 chose his words carefully to avoid mentioning any names. ”I’m a graduate student under your senior. She’s my supervisor. The Warden of the Shattered Lake Prison is a friend of hers... but she told me not to bother you. If this trash hadn’t gone too far and stolen institute property, I wouldn’t have shown up.”

The healer[1] asked, ”Now that my identity is exposed, do I need to leave this place?”

No.201 smiled. ”Miss, you must be joking. Anyone who comes to Shattered Lake Prison for the Blood Embrace Ritual is a prospective bloodline candidate of the Four Great Institutes. How could we betray you? Who would dare?”

The other healers bowed deeply to show their respect. They had no choice. The Blood Moon Kingdom had thirty-six research institutes. Of these, twenty-four were small, eight were medium, and four were major.

Most of them were prospective bloodline candidates from small institutes. The young woman before them, however, belonged to the new bloodline race of the Blood Tears Institute, one of the Four Great Institutes. The status gap between them was immeasurable.

Simply put, once they completed their Blood Embrace Ritual and left the prison, the most they could hope for was to attain the Golden Bloodline and gain two hundred years of lifespan, with their power capped at Two Wings for the rest of their lives.

The new bloodline members of the Four Great Institutes, however, almost always began as Sacred Realm bloodline holders with a lifespan of five hundred years. Some were even Legendary bloodline holders who lived a thousand years.

Three-Winged Sacred Realm was merely their starting point, and rising to Four-Winged Legend was hardly surprising. Some even ascended toward Divinity itself, becoming Pseudo God[2] Saints that stood above all living beings in the Blood Moon Kingdom.

”Miss, how should we deal with this trash?” No.201 asked.

The healer fell silent, then looked at No.176. ”Do you have anything you want to say?”

No.176 lifted his fish head and stared at her. His round, glassy eyes pulsed with a familiar crimson glow.

”How dare you!”

No.201 snorted and popped a Vein Foam.

No.176 convulsed. His already pale fish face drained to the color of blank paper. ”I refuse to accept this.”

”What are you refusing?”

”I refuse to accept that you can become a new bloodline member of Blood Tears Institute, while I’m forced to scrape and claw for scraps in a small institute.”

He ground his sharp teeth together so hard it seemed they might shatter at any moment. ”I was a prodigy among Fishmen. I could have become a supreme bloodline heir. So why is the gap between us so enormous?

”I refuse to accept that I had to scheme endlessly just to earn a chance at the Blood Embrace, while you received yours effortlessly. I refuse to accept that the spells I yearn for are things you can obtain without even trying. I refuse to accept that the best prisoner materials always end up in your hands, while I get nothing but tasteless leftovers...”

His voice frayed into a raw edge. ”What I refuse to accept the most... is how talented you are!”

No.176’s emotions spiraled out of control. ”I can’t just stand here and watch you surpass me... I can’t!”

No. 201 popped another Vein Foam, and No.176 nearly fainted. ”What a piece of trash with absolutely no remorse. His trash talk isn’t even worth listening to anymore... Miss, how do you want to deal with him? Normally, the standard procedure is execution on the spot.”

Seeing No.176 on the verge of collapse, the healer went quiet for a long moment before finally saying, ”He hasn’t made me hate him enough to want him dead. Even if he dies, I wouldn’t care much.”

”So you mean...”

”Find a soft rod shaped like a geoduck. Beat him until he’s bruised all over. Don’t treat him, then throw him out. Right, he’s a blue-scaled fishman, isn’t he? The Finger Sharks won’t finish him off. Just toss him into the sea tonight and let him swim back on his own.”

No.201 hesitated. ”But, Miss—”

The healer turned to him. ”This is my decision. If you disagree, handle it your way. I won’t mind.”

No.201 bowed deeply. ”I don’t mean that. Your will shall be carried out.”

”Then I’ll go back to rest.”

She walked past the others briskly, as if she were trying to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But slow, heavy footsteps quickly caught up.

Stopping in front of her quarters, she turned to see No.201 again. ”Is there anything else?”

No.201 said carefully, ”Since I’ve already bothered you, I thought I might take this chance to give you a few... reminders. Just a few.”

”Go ahead.”

”I noticed you spent slightly more time with the prisoners in the treatment room than regulations allow. Of course, this isn’t a problem at all. No one will use these rules against you, and I’m not here to warn you.

”If it weren’t to avoid trouble with the Human or Racial Rights Association, we wouldn’t even need to pretend to be healers to conduct the ritual. These rules simply reduce the chance of complications. You don’t need to worry about trouble.”

Every sentence No.201 spoke emphasized his humility. ”I just worry that while you’re... playing around, you might form unnecessary attachments to the materials and delay the Blood Embrace Ritual. If there’s any problem with your progress, my supervisor will hold me accountable.”

The healer shook her head. ”I haven’t forgotten the Blood Embrace Ritual. Rest assured.”

She paused. ”All the prisoners I’ve treated already have the Blood Embrace seeds implanted. When they die in the tribunal, the seeds will absorb their knowledge and mana and turn it all into my Source Blood.”

She stepped into her quarters and reached up to remove her crow mask. A pair of violent crimson eyes stared from beneath, locking onto No.201 like a predator. The chill in the air froze him. ”We of the Blood Saint Clan never grow attached to our food.”

1. Whenever we mention the healer, we mean No.222, the one who treats Ashe. ☜

2. Pseudo God is the title bestowed upon a sorcerer once they earn their fifth wing. ☜