The Sorcerer's Handbook

This new spirit was, of course, the reward from last night’s Virtual World exploration. The wait had clearly been worth it for both Ashe and the Swordswoman.

Just as the Whirlpool was about to vanish, Ashe noticed the map prompt shift from Wait a Moment to Rush Now. Without hesitation, he grabbed the Swordswoman and plunged into the Whirlpool together.

After traversing thousands of miles of ocean, they came upon a gravely wounded Fish-Slaying Dragon. Facing such a Knowledge Creature left no room for honor. Ashe and the Swordswoman struck while it was vulnerable, and their actions earned them five spirits. They received no Experience Orbs this time, but each of the five spirits possessed unique abilities, making the encounter an undeniably valuable gain.

The reason Ashe had gone to such lengths to make a contract with Iger was that his new Libra spirit gave him confidence in countering the Contract spirit.

[Libra]

One-Winged Spirit

Requirement

- Sorcerer must understand basic mathematics, including trigonometry, sequences, and probability theory.

Basic Effect

- Reflects any effect back to the caster proportionally.

Passive Effect

- Greatly enhances the sorcerer’s balance and ability to adjust their center of gravity.

Signature Quote

- Balance exists in all things.

Initially, Ashe had intended to use the Libra spirit solely as a counter-damage shield and hadn’t given it much thought. However, after returning from the Virtual World, he discovered that he could easily resonate with it, likely due to his proficiency in the mathematical concepts the spirit demanded.

After all, those were all topics he had encountered in math exams. Four years of university might have dulled his problem-solving skills, but he still retained a firm grasp of the core concepts, almost like muscle memory.

It was Ashe’s first time encountering a spirit that demanded knowledge. According to the Swordswoman, only spirits linked to Fate, Prophecy, or Truth had such requirements. These spirits were rarely useful in combat or production, but what made them stand out was that they often yielded unforeseen effects, which explained why Prophecy Class sorcerers enjoyed high social status.

Being able to resonate with the Libra spirit at all times meant that, even outside the Virtual World, Ashe could exploit it for advantage in the so-called civilized society of Shattered Lake Prison.

However, the Libra spirit only activated when others cast spells, functioning essentially as a passive, reactive enforcer. In a prison where magic was forbidden, it had few chances to act, except, of course, for one notable exception, that was Ashe’s newly acquired ”friend.”

”Not bad, Ashe,” Iger said, trying to sound nonchalant. ”Since you have my wish and I have yours, we’ve reached a balance. You live your life, and I live mine. We coexist peacefully and build a harmonious prison together. How about that?”

Ashe offered a faint smile. ”No. I’m using my wish now.”

Iger’s expression darkened. ”Think carefully! Once you use your wish, you lose all leverage over me! I could make you do anything, like stand on your hands to relieve yourself, roll on the floor, or even make you deliberately lose the next Death Match. You wouldn’t be able to refuse!”

”I’ve thought it through,” Ashe said, stepping closer.

Iger’s stomach dropped. An ominous sense of something bad about to happen welled up within him as he backed toward the wall. ”Ashe, there’s really no need to go this far. You don’t have to use your wish. Let’s talk. I’m your friend. If I can help, I will...”

”I don’t want ’if.’ I need you to fulfill my wish completely.”

”I’m just an ordinary fraudster. My abilities are limited. Ashe, you’re overestimating me. I could make a deal with another inmate. Whatever you want, I’ll have him do it for you, as many times as you like. Wouldn’t that work?”

”No. It has to be you.”

Iger’s back hit the wall. He had nowhere left to retreat. Ashe faced him directly, with his hand braced against the wall. ”My wish is—”

”I’m not listening! I’m not listening!” Iger cried, covering his ears and trying to flee. However, with his spirit restricted and his physical build more or less the same as Ashe’s, he had no chance. Ashe caught his arms and shouted, ”Iger, I want you to help me escape this prison!”

A passing guard glanced at them, shook his head, and continued whistling. He paid them no mind. Statements like ”I’m going to be the King of Escapes” were far too common. He had heard it hundreds of times to the point he dismissed them as empty boasts, perhaps even feeling a twinge of sympathy for death-row inmates lost in morning daydreams.

But Iger knew this wasn’t a daydream.

He stared at Ashe, breathless. He looked like he had just been punched in the face, and cold sweat soaked his back. I knew it! I knew it! He just survived the Blood Moon Tribunal. What other wish could he possibly have? Aside from brute force and cunning schemes, escaping the prison was obviously his only option left!

The moment Ashe held his wish in hand, Iger knew he was finished. As the saying went, even the best swimmer could drown, and the lustful would eventually fall to their own desires. Now, Iger the Fraudster, who had fleeced so many for their intelligence, had finally found himself ensnared by the same manipulative tricks he had long relied on to deceive others.

Using his own wish to counter Ashe’s wasn’t a viable option, as it would have violated the ”assist Ashe in escaping prison” rule. In effect, Ashe’s wish had left Iger powerless to prevent the escape.

He sighed. ”Follow me.”

With that, Iger led Ashe to his room. The prison didn’t forbid inmates from visiting each other. They could even sleep or chat together. Beyond sleeping, however, their activities were tightly restricted. The chips controlled nearly everything, including physical intimacy. Only the couple’s room temporarily lifted that restriction. Combat privileges could be restored only in the Death Match Club, while excretion was allowed freely only in the restroom. Yes, death-row inmates couldn’t even relieve themselves in public at will.

Technically, inmates possessed the same freedoms as anyone else. They just had to request permission from the prison beforehand, and if the request was approved, they could carry out their action. The difference between inmates and free citizens boiled down to one principle, which was ”nothing is allowed unless permitted” versus ”everything is allowed unless forbidden.”

”Your room is quite spacious,” Ashe commented.

Ashe flopped onto the velvet bed and sank into it. Iger, still moving the chair, couldn’t help but twitch the corner of his mouth at the scene.

Ashe glanced at him and waved a hand. ”Don’t be so formal. Sit anywhere. I’m not picky about etiquette, and you don’t need to pour me water.”

Suppressing his irritation, Iger sat in the chair. What a pity... I was just about to fetch some water from the toilet, maybe even add a little extra flavor...

He interlaced his fingers, fixed his gaze on Ashe, and studied him carefully. He asked, ”You really want to escape?”

”Who here doesn’t?” Ashe replied casually.

”Many,” Iger said with ease. ”Diamond Tiger, for example, wouldn’t want to escape. He’s made too many enemies outside; fleeing would be far more dangerous. Brute Body sorcerers don’t have many ways to earn a living beyond being muscle or guards. As long as he isn’t chosen for the Blood Moon Tribunal, Tiger actually lives better here than outside.

”There are plenty like Tiger. Most who have spent years here have adapted and feel no desire to return to the outside world. To them, the world beyond these walls is merely a slightly larger prison.”

Iger’s eyes flicked toward Ashe as he subtly triggered his Resonance spirit. His voice carried an enticing note as he spoke, ”Since you survived your first tribunal, you’ll just be like everyone else. Whether you get picked for the next one will depend on your Contribution Points. With enough points, you won’t even be chosen.”

”You’re strong. Your chances of winning in the Death Match are high, which means you can live comfortably here. If you want, you could stay in a room like this, eat whatever you like, read books, watch films, drink, dance, or even snack on moon candies. If you have requests, you can petition the prison. Like the new skating rink, it was built because an inmate wanted to skate.

”To outsiders, our prison might even seem ideal. No one commits crimes, says anything vulgar, competes, or even works. Each day is calm, well-structured, and refreshing. Life here isn’t necessarily worse than life outside.”

Seeing Ashe’s curiosity pique, Iger silently congratulated himself on his cleverness. Ashe’s wish wasn’t without loopholes. The rule to ”assist Ashe in escaping prison” only activated if Ashe truly wanted to escape. If Iger could convince him to abandon the idea, the wish would never need to be fulfilled.

But Iger wasn’t lying either. Escaping was a road without end, a lifetime of torment. Even if they succeeded, what awaited them was far harsher. Fearing exposure, they would have to hide like rats and breathe the murky air of freedom in sewers. Meanwhile, surviving here in comfort was entirely within reach. Any death-row inmate who had survived the Blood Moon Tribunal knew which choice was safer.

”You make a good point,” Ashe said, sitting up and nodding at Iger thoughtfully. ”Escaping is a thorny path full of danger and uncertainty. Life here carries some risk, but overall, it’s far more comfortable. If I stay long enough, I’ll probably adapt, just like you, and learn to enjoy prison life.”

Iger felt a surge of relief. ”Good, Ashe. You finally understand. So—”

Shaking his head, Ashe interrupted. ”That’s why I have to escape. And fast. The faster, the better. I’m not about to end up dulled, cowardly, and spineless like you. I won’t live like... a dog!”

Iger froze. After a brief pause, he slowly stood.

Snap!

He kicked over his chair and punched the wall. But just before his punch was about to land, his body stiffened. The chip had prevented him from exerting any more force.

Disgusted, Iger waved his hand and said coldly, ”Interesting. Calling yourself a dog isn’t considered foul language? That must be a loophole in the chip, hahaha... Fine! Escape it is! All of us will escape!

”But to escape, we first need to deal with... the chip in the back of your neck. As long as it’s there, we might as well forget about any plan at all. You’d even need the prison’s permission to... poop wherever you want! Ha... I can’t handle that. Do you have a plan, my dear cult leader, Ashe Heath?”

”I know how to deal with the chip.”

”I knew you’d have... what?”