The Sorcerer's Handbook

When Ashe and the others entered the Death Match Club, the sounds that reached their ears weren’t adrenaline-fueled screams, beast-like roars, or malicious jeering. Instead, they were irritated complaints.

”Stop hitting already! You’re not going to kill anyone like this!”

”Can you move it along? Dozens of us are waiting. Waste one minute, and you waste dozens for everyone!”

”That’s enough!”

If not for the chips restricting these death row inmates from swearing freely, Ashe was certain he would have quickly learned the classic curses of every race in the Blood Moon Kingdom.

They pushed through the crowd. The inmates shoved aside frowned in irritation, but at the sight of notorious figures like the Demon, the Beautiful Beast, and the Gourmet, they immediately stepped back.

Among death row inmates, there was no hierarchy of status. No matter how powerful someone was, they could not leave so much as a scratch, a single pulled strand of hair, or even a ruined manicure on any inmate. As long as one stayed off the arena, bullying was impossible.

Yet admiration for strength was instinctive. Among inmates whose moral bottom lines were as thin as old diapers, this instinct showed even more vividly. Ashe and his group could not threaten these figures in any way, but they instinctively avoided offending them.

Ashe silently crossed everyone who had made way off his list of potential bait. I’m the kindest, most innocent person in this prison. If even I scare you, how could you serve as bait? All of you fail.

At the front, Ashe spotted two figures in the arena. One was a snake-lizard with dark green scales. The other was a fellow inmate, whom he rarely found easy to talk to: Harvey. He had already forgotten Harvey’s given name and remembered only his surname.

After watching for a moment, Ashe understood why everyone had been complaining. Harvey and the other man were clearly throwing the fight.

The snake-lizard didn’t fight back at all. He let Harvey punch his face again and again. Even as his leathery scales cracked and his tiny teeth shattered, he remained kneeling, completely still, and continued watching Harvey calmly.

Once Harvey’s fists were coated in thick, sticky blood, the snake-lizard finally spoke, ”Archibald, feeling a little better now?”

”Not yet!” Harvey dropped to his knees and tore open his shirt, revealing a skeletal body scarred from head to toe. His face twisted with ferocity. ”Habrune, come on!”

The snake-lizard shook his head but still picked up the thorn whip at the arena’s edge. Ashe’s hair stood on end at the sight. The whip was covered in dense, tiny barbs. Just imagining a single lick sent shivers across his scalp. Add salt water, and it might be lethal.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

As the dull lashes echoed, the complaints in the Death Match Club dwindled. A few still mocked Harvey as an idiot, but most fell silent out of respect. Among these inmates, there were only two ways to earn respect. Either be ruthless to others, or to yourself.

Ashe asked, ”What do you think?”

”Not bad,” Iger said. ”I’ll investigate his story later. There might be something useful we can exploit.”

Ronna added, ”Archibald Harvey’s record is seven wins and one loss. His frail build makes some view him as easy prey, but those who fight him often lose consciousness without realizing it. He isn’t weak.”

Ronald clenched his fist. ”This is exactly the kind of hot-blooded man we need. Just watching him gets me fired up. Let’s find him after the match ends.”

Iger shook his head. ”No rush. We still have time to scan other candidates. Even if we pick him, I need leverage first. That makes using him much easier.”

”Tch, your heart is filthy,” Ashe remarked.

”What, got a problem with that?”

”Yes. Look at that snake-lizard. He seems close to Harvey. If we can’t find a breakthrough with Harvey, we might use the snake-lizard instead. He hasn’t been imprisoned long, and he probably still remembers the scent of freedom.”

Iger nodded. ”That’s rare. Ashe, actually, that’s a decent suggestion.”

”It’s nothing. I learned it all from you.”

Watching the two exchange scheming grins like a pair of like-minded scoundrels, Ronna kept a neutral face but felt inwardly surprised. He had observed Iger Perskin before and knew him to be a cold-hearted, selfish thrill-seeker. He always wore a professional smile, but deep down, he looked down on everyone and treated people as mere tools to be exploited.

Ronna wasn’t suggesting that Iger considered Ashe a friend. If he did, both Iger and Ashe would likely think he’d lost his mind.

Yet, based on his observations, Iger treated Ashe differently from any other inmate. It wasn’t calculated flattery, nor the disdain reserved for enemies. It was something much closer to sincerity.

Yes. Sincerity. The word sounded almost childishly naïve when applied to a fraudster, yet it was the conclusion Ronna had reached through careful observation.

Perhaps even Iger himself had not realized it, but in front of Ashe, he had unconsciously shed the mask he had built to protect himself. He did not hide his dislike, nor his approval. He treated Ashe Heath as an equal, spoke to him normally, and argued normally. The emotional fluctuations Iger had experienced over the past few days exceeded anything Ronna had seen in the previous year and a half.

Was this due to Ashe Heath’s personal charm? No. Ronna did not think so. It wasn’t that Ashe lacked charm; rather, Iger could not possibly be influenced so easily. Any Two-Winged sorcerer specializing in the Mind Class possessed convictions and willpower far firmer than most. On top of that, Iger himself was a master manipulator of hearts. How could he undergo such a sudden mental shift, something akin to love at first sight?

In the world of sorcerers, there were no coincidences. Only miracles.

Ronald had played a part in persuading Ronna to join the prison break, but the real turning point came when Ronna learned that Ashe was the one behind it. He felt certain then that the plan would succeed.

Unlike Iger and Ronald, Ronna had once been a church official, a servant of the gods. He had bathed in divine radiance and understood the vastness of divine authority. The will of the gods would be carried out. To the Blood Moon Lord, the heavily guarded, seemingly flawless Shattered Lake Prison was nothing more than a fragile, nearly transparent bubble. The same applied to the Four Pillars Deities.

While Ronna was lost in thought, the lights in the Death Match Club suddenly flared on. The barriers around the arena dropped, and the small gate to the ring opened. The crow healer stepped out, carrying the snake-lizard away. When they tried to take Harvey as well, he refused treatment.

Battered and soaked in blood, Harvey emerged, and the death row inmates instinctively made way for him. Iger still needed time to secure leverage over Harvey, so Ashe and the others held back. But Harvey took the initiative. ”I was just about to look for you, Ashe. I want to discuss something.”

”If it’s money you’re after, I’m broke,” Ashe replied.

Harvey reached out to pull Ashe away. ”There are too many people here. Let’s go...”

Iger grabbed Harvey’s wrist and smiled. ”This sounds interesting. May I join?”

Harvey swept his gaze across Iger, Ronna, and Ronald, then slowly nodded. ”Of course.”

The five notorious figures quickly left the Death Match Club and headed to the men’s restroom. There was no other choice. It was the nearest private space. Frequently cleaned and faintly scented, with running water to mask conversation, it was, without a question, the ideal breeding ground for conspiracies.

While wiping the blood from his body with a damp towel, Harvey met Ashe’s gaze in the mirror. ”I heard you’ve all been planning a prison break?”

Iger said frankly, ”Yes.”

Over the past few days, he had visited one prison celebrity after another. The news could not remain hidden.

Yet since Ashe’s Slash Me Miracle had not been exposed, and since Iger had previously posed as head of the Prison Break Research Club to deceive newcomers, most people either thought he was joking or assumed he had another scheme in mind. The death row inmates had long been tamed by the prison, and no one was willing to join. That was why Ashe had to find a way to pull Ronald and Ronna into the plan.

Harvey leaned his head under the tap, letting water soak his curly hair. When he lifted it, Ashe was surprised. Without the curls, Harvey looked surprisingly clean-cut, far less deranged and vulgar than usual.

”I want to escape,” Harvey said.

Ashe’s joy surged, but before he could say anything, Iger stepped forward. ”If you want to join us, you need to contribute. Show us your value. We’re not short on manpower. If you cannot serve a purpose, there’s no reason to let you in.”

”Actually, even without a contribution—”

Iger shot Ashe a vicious glare. ”Shut up!”

Ashe shrank back, looking wronged. It should have been Iger and the others persuading Harvey to join. Instead, Harvey had approached them of his own accord. Iger would not let such an opportunity slip by without raising demands.

Over countless negotiations, Iger had learned a fundamental human flaw. The harder something was to obtain, the more people valued it. If Harvey joined too easily, he might doubt their professionalism, or worse, think himself indispensable, making him difficult to control. By raising the bar and testing Harvey’s resources before reluctantly allowing him in, they could make him grateful while clearly showing him his place. Even if he later acted as bait, he would resist only so much.

”A very reasonable demand,” Harvey said, nodding at his reflection. ”I believe my abilities will satisfy you. I can operate the prison’s processor.”

”That sounds somewha... what?” Iger froze. ”The processor? You can operate the prison’s chip processor? How is that possible?”

Harvey turned to the others. ”Why wouldn’t I?”

His wet hair clung to his face, but his eyes were sharp. ”If anyone among the death row inmates can operate a chip processor, it can only be me. I am a necromancer, and a chip processor is essentially a corpse.”