The Sorcerer's Handbook

Ashe had known Varkas for only a single day. More precisely, the total time they had actually spent together amounted to less than an hour. In that brief span, their only interaction was going all out against each other. Varkas wounded Ashe again and again until his body ran with blood, while Ashe repaid him by slicing open Varkas’s throat.

Ashe suddenly recalled what he had asked Varkas yesterday, about what trouble he would get into by losing. In response, Varkas had only provided an answer that left much to think about, ”You’ll find out tomorrow.”

Logically speaking, losing a single match to Ashe should not have mattered much to Varkas. He still possessed plenty of Contribution Points. Iger was the perfect example. He had lost even more Contribution Points to Ashe, yet there he was, lounging comfortably in his cell, sipping wine and enjoying his steak.

Hence, Varkas’s appearance on the tribunal list had nothing to do with his contribution ranking. Someone had deliberately arranged it.

The list was never strictly ordered by contribution. There were countless rules and loopholes to exploit. As long as everything appeared legal and by the book, the person in charge could still push someone straight into a trap.

The reason was obvious. Varkas had lost to Ashe. That loss was incompetence, and incompetence had a price. This was Syrin’s punishment for his incompetence.

And it didn’t end there. The treatment elves received during the Blood Moon Tribunal was almost predictable. The moment Varkas appeared on the live broadcast, his fate was essentially sealed.

So when an arrogant, sharp-tongued elf found himself on the verge of being crushed into paste, and noticed that among the condemned stood the very man who had cut his throat just yesterday, the man who could even be considered the root cause of his current predicament, what choice did he really have?

Such was fate. An outcome so inevitable it felt natural.

Ashe let out a bitter smile. He couldn’t help but feel genuine admiration for Professor Syrin, the man who had orchestrated everything so cleanly. So this is what it means to get more for nothing.

It was an open scheme that accounted for human nature down to the smallest detail. Even if Varkas had not been sent to the tribunal, Ashe would still have been doomed. The only difference was that there might have been accidents, variables, and a sliver of uncertainty.

But once Varkas entered the picture, the voting phase became a foregone conclusion. Fueled by resentment, Varkas would drag Ashe down with him.

The moment Ashe agreed to the Death Match, Syrin had already written his ending. Either Varkas crushed him into pulp during the match, or he took Ashe with him in mutual destruction at the tribunal.

No one would be there to save him. Everyone in the prison knew about the grudge between them. Anyone who dared approach Ashe now would simply be volunteering to free up another cell.

Harvey watched Ashe with a mix of regret and anticipation. He couldn’t help but feel it was a pity that such excellent material would be fed to the Titan Executioner. All they could do now was hope that killing one more condemned wouldn’t push it into a berserk state.

The music in the air suddenly intensified.

Varkas let out a furious roar from within the Sword Barrier. It clashed violently with his usual refined demeanor. A visible wave rippled outward from his body. Ashe and the others felt their limbs grow numb and weak. Even the flames around the Titan Executioner appeared to have shrunk back slightly.

Nagu remarked, ”A beautifully executed sonic shock.”

He rose onto his toes to peer closer. ”I can’t identify the exact spirit, but it belongs to the Sound Class. Because sound propagates so effectively, sorcerers prefer using sound-based spells to first debuff and lower opponents’ resistance before launching direct attacks.

”Suppress the enemy, weaken them, then deliver the killing blow with the sword. That has always been Mr. Uhl’s preferred combat style. Merciless Finale is a composite Miracle. It centers on swordsmanship and integrates spirits of multiple classes.”

Clang!

A sharp, metallic ring cut through the air. And then the world fell silent.

All sound vanished. The crash of waves, the howl of the wind, Nagu’s voice, the pounding of hearts, and even the faintest vibrations. In an instant, silence took hold, as if hearing itself had been severed.

In that absolute stillness, Ashe watched Varkas leap into the air and charged toward the Titan Executioner like a meteor plunging into the sun. The blazing sword light overwhelmed even the crimson glow of the moon.

The moment the sword tip touched the Titan Executioner’s body, sound returned, and everyone wished it hadn’t.

Ding.

It was as though every sound that had disappeared moments ago erupted at once. Words could not describe the roar from Varkas’s blade. Violent vibrations tore through the air, unleashing storm-like pressure that warped even the light itself. Even the Titan Executioner’s defenses were pierced, halting its advance.

Nagu spoke in broken fragments. ”Two-Winged... Miracle... to think he’s capable of such a feat...”

No one watched the light screen anymore. Every condemned prisoner stared wide-eyed at that dazzling instant.

The strike was powerful, but they had seen greater Miracles before. When raging storms disrupted major corporate events, weather sorcerers would unite to disperse the clouds and restore clear skies. That spectacle was far grander.

What truly stole their breath, however, was Varkas’s courage in how he had dared to take the initiative and strike the Titan Executioner.

The condemned might have had their restrictions lifted, but when facing an executioner, most either resisted in blind hysteria or surrendered completely.

The prison allowed violence only to add a bit of entertainment to the program. No one truly believed the condemned could oppose an executioner, nor would anyone let them survive judgment. Redemption was the only ending that awaited death row inmates.

Everyone knew Varkas’s resistance was futile. And yet, they still hoped. They hoped for a miracle. They hoped for a hero. Even villains wanted a hero who could save villains.

Nagu remarked, ”The fact that it can even slow down the Titan Executioner is proof enough of this Miracle’s value. If Mr. Uhl were to publish it, he would almost certainly win this year’s Caimon Academic Award. What a pity...”

Whoom!

The flames surrounding the Titan Executioner suddenly began to spin. Each wisp cut through the air like a sharpened blade. A streak of blue fire lashed out at Varkas and instantly shattered his Sword Barrier. He was sent flying like a kite with its string cut.

Nagu continued to explain, ”The moment the Titan Executioner manifested, it integrated the Purging Flame of Atonement into its Miracle, the Counterstrike Storm. Any criminal who dares challenge justice and resist judgment will receive damage equal to what they inflict upon the executioner. When you harm others, you must be prepared to be harmed in return, which is something many criminals fail to understand.”

Varkas rolled across the ground, battered and torn, with blood streaming from his mouth. Yet he never loosened his grip on his sword.

Suddenly, multiple spirits burst from his body. Each appeared riddled with holes and cracks. The moment they escaped, they shattered into points of light and vanished.

Nagu explained, ”Pushing back the Titan Executioner as a Two-Winged sorcerer comes with a heavy price, even with a Miracle. That moment just now, when space itself became a domain of silence, wielded power approaching that of a Three-Winged Sacred Realm Miracle. The price? Most of Mr. Uhl’s Sound Class spirits collapsed from overload and dissipated.”

The Titan Executioner’s eyes flared with a crimson glow as it spread its eight arms wide. The light illuminated the Shattered Lake for miles, tearing through the night across vast distances. When it fixed its gaze on Varkas, it felt as though the entire world had collapsed. Its eight arms were no longer arms but wings forged from the world itself, blotting out the sky as they descended.

Nagu clapped his hands. ”It’s over. Let us send Varkas Uhl to the Blood Moon Heaven. May he continue to serve the supremely benevolent Blood Moon Lord in the distant skies.”

”Urgh!”

Varkas coughed up foul blood mixed with fragments of organs and broken teeth. Both his legs felt shattered. He could barely move and had to prop himself up with his sword.

He had never been this wretched. Half an ear was torn away. One of his eyes had burst. Filth covered his body, and his face twisted as blood and grime streamed down.

Syrin Dorr is watching this scene... so is Ares ... No, he isn’t. He is only seven and isn’t allowed to watch the Blood Moon Tribunal. Thank goodness... I had come so close, so close to taking Ares away from this city and starting a new life. The reason I ended up like this...

Varkas did not look at the Titan Executioner. Instead, he turned his attention to Ashe.

Beneath the matted hair and smeared blood, the elf’s single remaining eye burned with emotions no one could comprehend. ”Ashe Heath...”

The name escaped as a rasping snarl through clenched teeth.

Boom!

Eight forces—lightning, flame, frost, acid, shockwaves, corrosion, intangibility, and chaos—erupted from the Titan Executioner’s weapons. In that instant, it was as if an apocalypse had descended.

The Shattered Lake boiled, and the night sky itself trembled.

Varkas seemed oblivious to it all. He reversed his grip on the sword, forced his one eye wide open, and stared at Ashe with murderous intensity, as if he could tear him apart with his gaze alone.

The spirits shone brilliantly along the blade.

As judgment descended, Varkas hurled his sword.

Ashe tried to dodge, but the crimson chains restricted his movement. At the same time, the sword, empowered by Varkas’s spirits, flew at the speed of light and could alter its course midair. In other words, there was simply no way for him to evade it.

After releasing the sword, Varkas appeared resigned to his fate. In the next moment, blood welled in his clouded eye, and he whispered, ”I’m sorry...”

Smack!

As soon as the light of judgment engulfed him, Varkas vanished from the world entirely, leaving not even the smallest trace behind.

Shhk!

The sword pierced straight through Ashe’s throat. The tremendous momentum nearly tore his neck apart.

***

In the Red Mist Bar.

Held upright by the chains, Ashe did not collapse even after his throat was pierced. He knelt on both knees, with his eyes lifted toward the Blood Moon and a sword embedded in his neck. The scene resembled a martyr’s suffering.

The customers were stunned into silence by the sheer impact of the image, until an elf of the Blood Saint lineage suddenly stood up and laughed loudly. ”Haha! I bet Ashe would die at Varkas’s hands, and I won! Drinks are on me tonight!”

The others rose to their feet as well. ”Excellent! To Mr. Bell’s generosity, and to the justice of the Blood Moon Tribunal, cheers!”

Lawrence also stood and raised his glass. ”Cheers!”

Seeing the snake bartender wearing an amused expression, as if the outcome didn’t concern him at all, he could not help asking, ”Boss Snake, you lost a lot of money. Why do you still look so happy?”

”Hiss. He won this time, so he’ll definitely lose it back next time. Besides, this bar is mine anyway. Doesn’t the money just come back to me?”

Boss Snake paused and added, ”And besides...”

”And besides?”

Boss Snake glanced at the light screen. ”Hiss. Who said he won the bet?”