The Sorcerer's Handbook

Harvey ignored the subtle jabs from his companions, his tone turning deadly serious. ”There is no doubt this is the work of a necromancer, one at the Sacred Realm, at least. No, perhaps even a Legendary necromancer. The layout of this Mermaid Weed farm is undeniably inventive, but it is maliciously designed, brutally executed, and completely betrays the teachings of the Haagen Dazz Necromantic Creed. I despise him.”

True enough, only those who walked the same dark path could harbor such naked hatred. Harvey’s voice practically dripped with contempt.

”Necromancers use corpses and souls as spell components, but the bodies are usually already deceased, and the souls are harvested from malevolent spirits struggling to escape Hell. Most Blood Saint necromancers are mere armchair operators. They literally have hospitals deliver the corpses straight to them.

”Even the ones who prefer fresh kills merely slay someone and use the body on the spot. At the very least, they are creating a fresh corpse.”

Hearing this, Ashe and the others visibly relaxed. The casual indifference in Harvey’s words, like his use of ”merely” and ”on the spot,” made it clear that, deep down, he was still the same twisted necromancer they knew and loved.

”But this place is different. If regular necromancers are like chefs preparing cooked dishes, this place is a heretical restaurant specializing in sashimi. Every Mermaid Weed here reeks of living human flesh.”

The group froze, their eyes instantly darting toward Annan.

Annan touched her earring and replied nonchalantly, ”Let’s talk as we walk.”

The squad moved carefully through the wide plaza, navigating around the various poses of the Mermaid Weed. Previously, their caution had been driven by fear. Now, their movements carried a protective, almost fragile instinct, as if they were afraid of breaking the tragic figures around them.

Annan asked, ”Do you remember the Family Reincarnation Dream, the one designed to suppress the threshold increase caused by daily Beauty Mist consumption? You’ve all experienced it. Do you think it truly suppressed your thresholds?”

”Yes,” Iger said with certainty. ”I monitored my hormonal changes using the Gospel, and each time I emerged from the dream, my levels returned to normal.”

Annan responded, ”Now for my second question. It could suppress it for a day, a week, a month, or even a year. But do you honestly believe a dream can suppress it for a hundred years?”

The outlanders blinked, the horrifying implication beginning to dawn on them.

Annan explained, ”No matter how effective the Family Reincarnation Dream is, a person’s threshold will still gradually rise, and their organs will accumulate physiological damage over time. Eventually, the progress bar fills up. Because bodies differ, the bars fill at different rates across different races. For humans, the limit is around sixty-five years.”

Ashe swallowed hard. ”And once the progress bar fills... what happens?”

”They no longer need to work. They spend the rest of their lives right here... permanently retired.”

”So, the Vanmura elders actually enjoy a pretty decent retirement, huh?” Iger sneered, his voice laced with bitter irony. ”Considering they don’t really have old age to speak of.”

Annan remained completely calm. ”You saw it yourself just now, how those Vanmurans completely broke the moment the mist thinned out. Once a Vanmuran’s threshold bar maxes out, their body is essentially a machine with every single part shattered. At that point, even injecting concentrated mist directly into their veins won’t fix them.

”Mermaid Mist isn’t a miracle. The pleasure it provides comes at a steep cost. For the organizations, the mist dampens ambition, which drastically lowers the success rate of training sorcerers. After all, sorcerers are among the greediest beings in existence. Without desire, who would bother to study and cultivate power?

”Vanmura has the lowest proportion of sorcerers in the entire Gospel Kingdom. There are only three Sacred Realm sorcerers, including Quinna. That’s not even half of what Azura has.”

For the individuals themselves, the mist destroys all initiative. Most willingly became pawns of the family leaders, living like slaves in reality and like coddled infants in their dreams.

”After decades of constant, artificial pleasure, they become like burnt-out engines, and their bodies break down prematurely.

”At first, the leaders didn’t care when these people broke. They were simply buried and used as fertilizer. But then, an extraordinarily talented necromancer came along. Whether because he thought the practice was wasteful or because he actually cared for the broken members, he developed a Miracle to let the Vanmuran ’retire with dignity.’”

Annan paused, gesturing to the glowing figures around them. ”Once you build up a tolerance to Mermaid Weed, they don’t bother waiting for the drug to slowly waste you away. They skip the middle step entirely, transforming you directly into them.

”Too old to work? Then don’t. Allow yourself to remain permanently immersed in your dream, where any surplus pleasure you feel is released back into the air as mist. You’d be forever retired, forever happy, and forever detached from reality.”

Ashe murmured, ”Honestly... that sounds pretty nice.”

Lys smacked the back of his head.

”Of course it’s nice. After all, this is a Miracle,” Annan said, her voice heavy with an emotion impossible to read. It could have been awe, or it could have been mockery. ”The Gospel can predict exactly when a family member’s body is about to give out. On that final day, guided by the Gospel’s prompt, these frail, elderly members willingly walk down to the farm. The moment their bodies completely fail, their family crests trigger the farm’s Miracle rites, transforming them into Mermaid Weed.

”By the way, their appearance as Mermaid Weed has nothing to do with what they looked like in life. It reflects the form they desired most in their hearts. That’s why the vast majority of what you see here are gorgeous young men and beautiful women.”

Ashe glanced around, frowning. ”Wait... something’s off. The beauties here are overwhelmingly female. If the ratio of men to women in the clan is equal, then—”

”Wanting to become the opposite sex is a completely normal desire,” Iger cut in. ”Gender-transition rituals have always been popular in Blood Moon.”

Ashe stared at Iger in shock. ”Iger, how do you know that? Were you... a genuine, pure-hearted veela in the past or something?”

Iger rolled his eyes. ”Plenty of people change their gender but struggle to adjust their mindset. Correcting self-gender perception is a booming subfield in psychology. Interested? I can give you a twenty-percent discount.”

”Oh, I’m interested. I’ve never quite fully embraced the fact that I’m an incredibly handsome, kind, friendly, witty, charming, overwhelmingly perfect, super-great guy. Please, fix that for me.”

”Ashe, shut up. That annoying little girl behind you is about to throw up.”

At that moment, Harvey looked like a cockroach trapped in a perfume bottle, utterly suffocated and miserable. ”Can we please just leave? Alice says he’s having a terrible time.”

”We’re almost there.”

Annan led them toward a passage at the edge of the plaza. Unlike the plaza itself, this tunnel showed no signs of human stonework. It was a raw, natural cavern.

The moment they stepped inside, Lys and Ashe both shivered. After they had walked a short distance, Ashe couldn’t help but ask, ”Where are we? My whole body feels... itchy.”

Annan gave him a surprised look. ”You’re actually familiar with Time Class?”

Iger’s eyes flickered. He summoned his Book of Gospel to check the clock, and his pupils instantly dilated in shock.

The stopwatch in the Book of Gospel was spinning wildly. To Iger, only a single second had passed, but the dial showed that thirty seconds had already vanished.

Annan said casually, ”I forgot to mention. The Mermaid Weed farm is built deep within the abyss. This passage runs between the layers, where time and space are compressed. Once we cross it, we’ll leave Vanmura entirely and emerge in the abyss of another city.”