The Sorcerer's Handbook

A thin, steady stream of water washed over a flawless, almost perfect body, following the grooves of the tiled floor before disappearing into the drain. There was no body wash, no shampoo, no conditioner, and not even a proper showerhead. It was simply a pipe spraying water downward. Rather than taking a proper shower, Iger felt as though he were standing under a sudden downpour.

The washroom was so small that he couldn’t even fully stretch his arms. Even during his time in Shattered Lake Prison, he had never fallen into such a miserable state. Yet, for someone so fastidious, Iger showed surprisingly little dissatisfaction. After quickly rinsing off the sweat, he dried himself with a rough towel and changed into casual clothes. The fit was far from perfect, but under the circumstances, he could hardly afford to be picky.

When he returned to the main hall of the underground base, he saw Harvey applying makeup to a coffin. The eyebrow pencil was made from white bone, and the lipstick base was blood ink. Nearby, Ashe was struggling to dry Lys’s hair with an inefficient hairdryer. Pankey stood by the stove preparing a late-night meal, while Annan sat with a cup of hot milk, flipping through the Book of Gospel.

”Haha, everyone’s chatting, I see. I must have dozed off and dreamed that Ashe and Annan reached number one on the Art Ranking, only for us to be forced out of Azura after an attack,” Iger said as he pulled up a chair. ”Now that I’m awake, I see what a strange dream that was. We really were just on a graveyard vacation after all.”

Annan closed the Book of Gospel and looked up. ”Are you trying to hypnotize us?”

”Or maybe I’m just trying to hypnotize myself. Escaping reality is the last tear a Mind Class sorcerer has to shed.”

At that moment, Pankey turned off the portable stove and brought over a tray loaded with thick-cut steak, white bread, cream sauce, and mashed potatoes. It was a surprisingly luxurious meal for a group of fugitives.

”Any alcohol?” Annan asked suddenly.

Pankey nodded. He reached into his suitcase and produced a bottle of wine and five glasses. With practiced ease, he added a slice of lemon and used his magic to flash-freeze drinking water into ice cubes. Within moments, he had prepared five cocktails.

Annan said, ”When I run into trouble, I like to use alcohol to numb my brain a little. I think you’ll all appreciate the feeling. If you have any objections, keep them to yourself and raise your glasses now.”

”This is workplace harassment...” Ashe muttered. He pressed down on Lys’s head to keep her still as he took a glass and drained it in one gulp.

The taste was smooth and carried a deep fruity aroma. There was no burn, only a lingering sweetness that was surprisingly pleasant.

”Is there more?” Harvey asked.

”There is, but you’re not getting any,” Annan said, her mood noticeably lifting after her drink. ”This is a local Azura craft beer called Pink Rabbit. It goes down so smoothly that it’s easy to overindulge, but once the aftereffects hit, you’ll suddenly pass out. Don’t overdo it.”

Lys immediately grew anxious, reaching for a glass. ”I want some too!”

”Kids drink milk,” Ashe said, flicking Lys on the head to settle her down.

”Now then,” Annan said, brushing her long hair back over her shoulders as she sat cross-legged on the sofa. ”Now that we have bathed, eaten, and rested, it is time to go over our situation. I am sure you have plenty of questions, so I will start by answering them.”

Iger gestured toward the suitcase resting beside Pankey. ”First of all, is that a spatial item?”

It was impossible to ignore that ordinary-looking piece of luggage. During the escape, Pankey had put Harvey’s coffin straight into it. After arriving here, he had managed to take out the coffin again, along with a portable stove, a massive supply of food, tableware, and even six sets of spare clothes, including underwear. At this point, no one would have been surprised if he pulled out a fully-equipped armored vehicle next.

It was no wonder Annan hadn’t cared about their lack of luggage. That suitcase alone was enough to supply their entire group.

Annan nodded. ”Yes, but it’s not what you think. Pankey isn’t actually a spatial specialist. This is his exclusive reward.”

”The reward from the last Woven Festival?” Iger asked.

”Yes. However, it isn’t as convenient as it looks. It cannot store items heavier than Pankey himself, it cannot hold unsealed liquids, and there are strict cooldowns for both storing and retrieving items. It might have been revolutionary decades ago, but in an era of highly developed transportation, a simple mobile warehouse isn’t considered that valuable anymore.”

She paused, then continued, ”It only truly shines during an escape like this.”

”So you were already prepared to flee,” Iger said, seeing through her explanation immediately. ”But you didn’t plan to leave tonight. You were waiting for the second ranking announcement in ten days. You anticipated that once outlanders like us appeared on the rankings, we would become targets, and escape was always your primary contingency.”

Annan exhaled slowly. ”Strictly speaking, I planned to lead you all out of Azura around the 14th. I wanted to wait calmly for the moment your names shook the entire Gospel Kingdom. Unfortunately, plans rarely survive contact with reality. Ashe... I don’t usually blame fate, but this time—”

Ashe immediately protested, ”Young lady, don’t you forget! You are the artist! I am just the model in your portrait. If we’re being honest here, I’m the victim!”

Harvey suddenly said, ”Isn’t this supposed to be a tomb? A tomb is for the dead, yet this place doesn’t feel like it belongs to them at all. I don’t even smell the scent of death here.”

Annan shrugged. ”Of course you don’t. My grandfather was cremated long ago and reduced to ashes, but this is still his tomb, at least in name.”

While the necromancer struggled to follow the logic, Iger the Fraudster caught on immediately. ”To mislead the Book of Gospel?”

”Honestly, Mr. Perskin, if you were given enough time, I am certain you could build an agency from scratch that could rival the Good Moonlight Agency,” Annan said with a sigh. ”The answer is yes. While the Book of Gospel knows everything about this kingdom, there is still plenty of room for manipulation when it comes to naming conventions.

”It is like buying a residential property and converting it into an agency office. In the Book of Gospel’s records, it remains as Annan’s residence, not Annan’s office. If a safehouse is built privately without approval, the Book will classify it as a personal basement. Likewise, if I purchase land through the city planning bureau under the guise of a tomb and develop it, the Book will classify it as a tomb structure.”

Annan leaned back into the sofa cushions. ”Even after I remodel it like this, it stays listed in the database as a tomb. After all, no rule states that a tomb cannot be furnished for the living. The Red Hats are almost certainly scouring every official safehouse I’ve ever touched, but for them, a tomb is simply a dead end with zero search priority.”

As she spoke, Annan clasped her hands together in a mock-solemn prayer. ”Grandfather, please bless this tomb with the memory of your fatty liver and foul urine. Drive away the beasts of civilization and keep us far from danger.”

It was clear that her grandfather’s final days had been less than peaceful; his health had deteriorated so far that even medical specialists had abandoned his treatment. Her explanation was simple and the plan wasn’t overly complex, yet the group was struck by the meticulousness of her thinking. Only someone like Annan, who studied the Gospel’s loopholes with religious fervor, could devise such an uncanny strategy.

Iger clasped his hands. ”So then, what is our next move?”

”It is 2:11 a.m. now. We have to relocate before 6:00 a.m., which gives us about four hours of rest. We will split into two shifts for watch duty. Those on watch must stay alert and query the Book of Gospel every five minutes to check for anyone within a 300-meter radius. Those off duty will enter the Virtual World to recover their mental stamina within two hours. We will resume our journey early tomorrow morning.”

The Book of Gospel was not only a blade for the hunters but also a shield for the hunted. As long as one possessed enough points, the system wouldn’t distinguish between good and evil. It would simply offer its efficient services to anyone who could pay.

Iger and the others summoned their own Books, lost in thought. Their operational habits were still rooted in the Blood Moon version of the system. Without Annan, a ”strategy guide” player who knew the Gospel version’s intricacies, they would have already been overwhelmed by agencies operating on an entirely different tactical level.

Reconnaissance, offense, defense, and logistics, almost every aspect of combat in the Gospel Kingdom involved the Book. Its capabilities were no less formidable than a sorcerer’s Miracles, and knowing how to utilize it was the true core of combat in this world.

Annan spread her hands. ”If there are no other questions, then—”

”Then what about Ashe?”