The Sorcerer's Handbook

Chapter 55: Apparently, I Haven’t Been Stripped of My Political Rights

When the other death row inmates heard Nagu’s words, realization struck them immediately. Right. Why move forward at all? We can just jump back. The platform behind us is just as safe. It’s only ten steps away, which is nothing for people like us. Even without using the sorcerers’ abilities, we still have our ways to cross it.

But the moment they turned and saw Ashe’s executioner swelling again at a visible speed, it became clear to them what was going on. They inwardly cursed Nagu’s shamelessness, felt a flicker of schadenfreude at Ashe’s predicament, and lowered their heads to keep climbing along the steel wire.

Nagu had set a trap with what he had said earlier.

Ashe realized he had made a mistake the instant he looked back. As soon as Nagu finished speaking, his vote count skyrocketed exponentially.

The audience panicked. Nagu was right. If Ashe jumped back, he could ruin the carefully arranged Blood Moon Tribunal. The steel wire trial and the purging flame had proven ineffective on him, and his smooth, painless experience only provoked the audience further. To them, Ashe was not merely refusing to repent; he was actively trying to exploit the rules and sabotage the process.

It was like a student who failed to do his homework. When the teacher scolded him, he not only refused to admit his mistake but even ran off to play. Faced with such an immature offender, the audience, acting as society’s overseers, would naturally grant him a chance to redeem himself, at least in the next life, if not in this one.

Under the voting rules, aside from the person with the most votes being sentenced to death, the voting phase would automatically end when someone reached fifty percent of the total votes, and the tribunal would fast-forward straight to execution.

All restraints on the death row inmates had been lifted, but at the cost of their lives no longer being their own. On the other side of the light screen, hundreds of thousands of Caimon City citizens held the balance of their fate in their hands.

The moment anyone resisted the tide, the audience’s collective will would descend as a crushing divine punishment, snapping the spine of any thought of defiance.

If Ashe jumped back now, he would face the other inmates’ gratitude, but also an executioner born from a terrifying fifty percent vote share.

That said, if his vote count continued to soar above the rest, and the audience stubbornly believed redemption belonged to him alone, Ashe would almost certainly attempt to jump back. If he was going to die anyway, there was no way he would keep playing along. The only reason he still followed the rules was the glimmer of hope the current voting situation offered.

[Ashe Heath: 42,354 votes.]

[Varkas Uhl: 31,002 votes.]

Ashe glanced at the executioner behind Varkas. It was massive and ferocious, but only slightly smaller than his own.

Varkas appeared to have noticed Ashe’s gaze as well. He snorted, then gracefully leapt onto the steel wire and strode toward the distant platform. That flashy display instantly earned him over two thousand more votes.

Watching Varkas through the light screen, Ashe muttered to himself. So even you, Varkas, with your thick brows and honest expression, are this irritating. You’re almost catching up to me. Figures you’re not a proper elf after all.

A prompt suddenly appeared.

[Would you like to view Varkas Uhl’s criminal record?]

Ashe chose to view it. A small window opened, replaying Varkas’s actions from a first-person perspective. It replayed the entire process of him stealing technical data at the university and killing a fellow scholar.

The scholar collapsed in the corridor with terror written across his face. He begged with tears and snot streaming: ”Spare me. Please. Varkas. Don’t... ah!”

Following the scream, Varkas stabbed through the victim’s chest.

The video then switched to the victim’s perspective. Step by step, it conveyed the scholar’s despair, fear, and the slow, agonizing fading of life.

These were memory fragments from both Varkas and his victim. It was Ashe’s first time viewing such footage, and the technology left him deeply shaken. He was awed by the terrifying precision of the sorcerer system and equally shocked that these death row inmates had dared commit such crimes.

It was no different from relieving yourself in the street. There was no escaping any crime. The criminal would have been exposed to the Heresy Court as soon as they committed a crime involving another person. Destroying the body was futile. The court had methods to extract the victim’s memories.

Ashe processed it, thinking, No wonder every death row inmate is so capable. Without real skill, no one could possibly commit a capital crime before being caught by the Heresy Court. The weaker ones would have been arrested for petty theft or fraud long before things escalated and sent off for labor reform.

After the footage ended, another prompt appeared on the light screen.

[Do you want to cast your redemption vote for Varkas Uhl? Every redemption vote you cast is support for justice.]

Ashe froze once again. Countless thoughts flooded his mind. They actually allowed death row inmates to vote? Hadn’t the inmates been stripped of their political rights for life? This is sheer humiliation. Did the prison really expect inmates like us to vote for others just to improve our own slim chances of survival?

Despite his anger at the prison’s disregard for him, Ashe still cast his vote for Varkas. At the same time, he thought, Varkas’s brutal murder memories alone didn’t seem enough to justify this many votes. Makes me wonder how Heath’s crimes compare to his.

Turning to his own profile, Ashe saw a small video pop up. It was not his own memory, but footage from the Bloodrage Hunters. The scene unfolded in a dim, underground hall filled with unknown runes slick with blood, shattered remnants on an altar, and twisted heaps of corpses. Ashe could only watch briefly before skipping ahead. Even he found it difficult to bear, and a twinge of guilt pricked at him.

The moment he felt it, his soul recoiled from the Purging Flame of Atonement. Damn, that really hurt.

He silently recited three times. I am Ashe, not Heath. I am Ashe, not Heath. I am Ashe, not Heath. Slowly, the burning ache in his conscience began to fade.

That fleeting experience also made him feel the power of the purging flame. Simply inhabiting this body and momentarily slipping into Heath’s role had left his scalp numb from the burning. Those inmates who genuinely committed crimes must be enduring agony thousands, or even tens of thousands, of times worse.

When Ashe thought about it from a different angle, he found the scene oddly satisfying. With his simple sense of right and wrong, Ashe couldn’t help but silently applaud this form of punishment. If only I could be watching this from the comfort of a warm, cozy home instead of standing right in the middle of this live broadcast.

Ashe skimmed through the other prisoners’ criminal records as well. With time running short, he only read the text summaries. Through it, he got to confirm that Harvey really did have a charge for desecrating corpses.

Ashe felt curious about whether the corpse was still warm or cold, and whether it belonged to a male or female, but the thought of actually watching the video was too much for him. In the end, he dared not open it.

Right. This one is a serial killer. That one eats people. This one is an assassin. That one leads a violent gang.

After a quick review, Ashe realized that Heath’s crimes were indeed the most brutal among the eight. Even without the nonstop news coverage over the past few days, the audience would probably have recognized him as the ”hero of the night.”

What surprised him, however, was that Varkas’s crimes were actually the lightest among the eight, yet his vote count ranked second only to Ashe’s.

Ash felt puzzled, but there was no time to dwell on it. Everyone else was almost at the main platform. He had to move, too. He wasn’t about to stay behind and wait for death.

But how am I supposed to cross?

He couldn’t fall into the sea swarming with finger sharks. If he did, even his fingernails wouldn’t survive. Flying wasn’t an option either; tonight, with Storm Class spirits raging, anything airborne risked being struck by lightning. Nevertheless, none of those restrictions mattered much to Ashe, since he couldn’t swim and had no spirits capable of flight.

He looked down at the steel wire, crouched, and touched it. It was thin, yet incredibly tough. The moment his palm brushed it, a line of blood opened across his hand.

If he grabbed it fully, the result was obvious. His fingers would be sliced off and fed to the finger sharks as an appetizer.

A normal person couldn’t cross this. I have to use a spirit. The problem is, I only have one. Forget it. I can’t overthink this anymore. At this rate, I have to try anything. Substitute spirit!

A substitute identical to himself appeared beside him, making the already cramped platform even more crowded. Ashe was nearly pushed off by his own double.

Even after summoning it, he still had no clear plan. He looked from the double to the steel wire, pursed his lips, and signaled it to go first.

The substitute raised no objections. It stepped onto the wire with both feet. The thin steel instantly tore through its cloth shoes, and with a sharp snap, the substitute dissolved into wisps of smoke. Even the slightest damage could make it vanish instantly.

Nevertheless, Ashe’s eyes lit up. From what just happened, he had confirmed that the substitute could walk across the wire just fine, without fear. Even though it had been cut by the steel, its movements remained steady and precise, like a flawless machine.

Ashe glanced down at his own shoes. They were standard-issue prison cloth shoes, warm enough for winter and not too hot for summer. Comfortable as they were, they were completely unsuitable for balancing on a steel wire.

He looked around, then turned his head toward Nagu standing behind him.

Nagu raised an eyebrow. ”Want to come over?”

Ashe ignored the executioner swelling rapidly behind him. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Nagu’s steel-soled boots that clanked when he walked.

”Supervisor, your boots are amazing. What brand are they?”

The question immediately caught Nagu’s interest. ”You have good taste. They’re the limited edition Netherlamp’s Midnight King series. I had to wait three months to get them.”

Ashe’s eyes glimmered with admiration. ”As expected of the limited edition Netherlamp’s Midnight Lord Series. These are the only boots I’ve ever wanted in my life.”

”It’s Midnight King, not Midnight Lord. That’s a different series.”

Ashe waved his hand. ”That doesn’t matter! Before I’m redeemed, I want to wear these boots just once. That’s my one and only request in my life, Supervisor. Could you... let me wear them for a bit?”

Nagu’s expression stiffened. ”That might not be appropriate. I’ve already worn them...”

Ashe patted his chest. ”Don’t worry, Supervisor. I don’t mind! Since you’re giving me these boots, how could I possibly care about such trivial details?”

Nagu’s face twisted in frustration. I do mind! And I never said I would give them to you! Give you the boots? I’d rather kick you and send you flying, you wretch! How dare you take advantage of me like this, Ashe Heath? This is a provocation to the dignity of a supervisor and a challenge to the bottom line of the Shattered Lake Prison!

Nagu snorted, then said loudly, ”Fine!”