The Sorcerer's Handbook

Ashe looked at the crimson chains wrapped all over his body and fell into a dazed, blank stupor. It’s over.

There was no way he could break free. Even if he somehow managed it, the wind blades above wouldn’t hesitate to cut him down.

For now, the blades were focused solely on Varkas because he was the only one actively resisting. If Ashe abandoned his passive, obedient posture to fight, there was no telling whether the blades would turn on him, the softer, far more vulnerable target.

Ashe thought. This time... I’m truly done for. Should I call the Swordswoman? But even if she comes, all she can do is watch.

Just as Ashe tried to empty his mind to find a fleeting comfort in his final moments, he felt himself moving. But he quickly realized the movement wasn’t coming from him, but the ground.

He looked down to find that the earth beneath him had seemingly come alive and was sliding backward. Since the crimson chains were anchored to the soil, they were pulled along, dragging him with them.

Ashe wondered inwardly. Could it be... the earth recognized me as a kind-hearted environmentalist and decided to save me?

When he finally reached the edge of the platform and saw Harvey manipulating the terrain through a summoned spirit, he was deeply moved by the sincere, prison-born friendship.

Harvey muttered under his breath, ”Next time you feel like dying, come find me. I’m very skilled and even provide after-sales service. All you need to do is give me your spirits as payment. If an executioner accidentally kills someone who isn’t the target, the spirit can go berserk and attack indiscriminately. It’s happened before. Almost all death row inmates ended up wiped out.”

”I was just about to make up my mind to tolerate your... sexual preferences,” Ashe said.

”What?”

”And why do you even have an Earth Class spirit? Aren’t you from the Necromancy Class?”

”Burial methods nowadays include earth burial, cremation, and water burial. As a necromancer, you must master Earth, Fire, and Water Class sorcery. Otherwise, you can’t truly call yourself a necromancer.”

Good grief.

Ashe had always thought corpse disposal was a necromancer’s side job. He never expected their main career path to be working at a funeral parlor.

Clang!

Varkas drove his sword into the ground. Dark yellow energy burst upward, forming a solid rampart that enveloped and shielded him from the chaotic storm of wind blades.

”Miracle, Sword Barrier,” Nagu said, impressed. ”It’s an excellent defense-type Sword Class Miracle, though it will likely only prolong Mr. Uhl’s survival briefly. Such futile struggle, such toil, and such humility. Fear not. Soon, the Titan Executioner will release him from suffering... Oh?”

In the face of the overwhelming Titan Executioner, Varkas neither retreated nor flinched. Instead, he adopted his stance and simultaneously summoned several spirits. Light shone across his body as his sword sang with clear, piercing notes that came together to form a grim harmony steeped in murderous intent amid the howling wind. The air grew oppressive, as though death itself had descended.

With a twinge of excitement in his voice, Nagu said, ”If my guess is correct, Mr. Uhl is preparing the new Sword Miracle he invented as a research scholar—the Merciless Finale.

”The last research report he published dates back nine years ago. At that time, the Merciless Finale was too complex for practical combat testing. Now, nine years later, Mr. Uhl has completed it and intends to use it to challenge judgment itself.”

The entire scene of an elf dancing to the funeral melody painted a spectacular picture of a condemned man standing tall against judgment, and of the boldness of the weak defying the strong.

Watching the lone figure confront the Titan Executioner, Ashe turned to Harvey. ”Why him?”

”Hm?”

”Why did he receive fifty percent of the votes? By all accounts, I should have gotten the most redemption votes. Varkas... he shouldn’t even have been close. How did he provoke so much hatred?”

Harvey glanced at him. ”Isn’t it obvious?”

”What’s obvious? I’ve read his criminal record. It’s ordinary. Compared to yours, his is nothing.”

”It’s not a mistake you’ll find in his record.”

”Then what mistake is it?”

”The mistake of his appearance, the mistake of his bloodline, and the mistake of his birth.”

Ashe blinked.

Harvey explained softly, ”He is an elf. That is his greatest crime. In terms of appearance, strength, intelligence, and lifespan, elves surpass every other race. Their numbers are small, and to protect their collective interests, they naturally stick together. With their exceptional intellect, elves never hesitate to lend their strength to one of their own.”

”Almost all elves are raised in the best foster institutions and regarded as ’stewards of society,’ filling management roles across the board. With their long lifespans, striking appearances, and exceptional knowledge, other races have almost no chance to compete with elves for these positions. People say managers and workers are equal in status, but everyone knows that’s just a comforting lie.

”Anyone who has ever worked has seen it. The arrogance of ogre coworkers, the laziness of goblins, the sloppiness of orcs, and the harshness of elf superiors.

”In the entire history of the Blood Moon Tribunal in Caimon City, there has never been a single elf criminal. That’s partly because elves occupy the upper tiers of society and have little need to commit crimes. More importantly, it’s because elves protect one another. They form a collective through blood ties, which is something no other race can replicate.

”Goblins are short-sighted, orcs ignorant, ogres cunning, and humans selfish. In front of elves, all anyone can feel is inferiority. Even I cast a vote for Varkas just now. This may be the only chance most people will ever have to trample on an elf.”

Ashe turned his gaze to the Titan Executioner. This time, he no longer saw a ferocious monster, but a swirling mass of anger and tumultuous pressure, born from countless ordinary people.

Aside from the Swordswoman, Ashe hadn’t encountered any ordinary people since transmigrating. The only people he came across in prisons were guards and death row inmates. Nevertheless, he could still empathize with how the people outside felt. It was the despair imposed by an orderly society, and the frustration born from facing an unbridgeable chasm.

In the Blood Moon Kingdom, socialized upbringing divided most people into ranks from infancy. Those with high potential were sent to good foster homes, while those with low potential ended up in poor ones. Stratification began at birth, and by adulthood, the gap between classes had become insurmountable.

Those with privileged origins, elves for example, often took on respectable professions such as sorcerers. Those with poor origins, like goblins, orcs, and ogres, either toiled in manual labor or turned to a life of crime.

Those at the bottom did not even have the right to complain. Everyone came from a foster home, and no one possessed any capital beyond their own ability. Those higher in status were simply better. The talented were chosen for superior foster homes, leveraged their advantages step by step, accumulated assets, and eventually rose above the rest.

In a society where class was determined by ability, few dared to challenge the chasm between tiers. Ashe finally understood the purpose of the Blood Moon Tribunal. Under such suffocating social barriers, everyone’s desire for a better life was suppressed. Twisted ambitions gave birth only to resentment and hatred.

When order dictated that one would never rise in their lifetime, it was only a matter of time until they lost control. In the Blood Moon Kingdom, where the family system had completely vanished, everyone was an island, and no one had anything to lose.

To prevent that, the people were told three things. Firstly, breaking the law would lead to a horrible death. Secondly, even those of high status would die horribly. Last but not least, those who accepted the status quo were the happiest of all.

Ashe was a sacrifice. Harvey was a sacrifice. All death row inmates were sacrifices. And Varkas... Varkas was the most satisfying sacrifice of them all.

Just as the Titan Executioner gathered its strength, with tension stretched to its breaking point. Varkas suddenly turned his head and glanced at Ashe.

Ashe froze. Why is he looking at me?

In the next instant, the death row inmates around Ashe scrambled in panic. Harvey moved the land and fled far away as well. Ashe caught on instantly. Damn it. Varkas isn’t planning to use me as a human cushion, is he?