The Sorcerer's Handbook

In the Virtual World’s Sea of Knowledge.

”So you spent an entire day trying to find companions to break out with you, but couldn’t find a single one?”

Sonya swung her sword down in a powerful cleave. The surging energy split into several rotating rings that whirled in place like electric saws and gnawed relentlessly at the earthen rampart ahead. This was her newly learned miracle, Fission Wave Slash.

Ashe sighed. ”Yeah.”

He formed a sword gesture with his fingers and guided his Swordheart spirit forward, piercing the rampart. But as one layer crumbled, another rose in its place. It seemed endless.

”Not even one?”

”Not exactly. Aside from Iger, who is bound to me by contract, no one else is willing... or rather, they don’t believe me.”

”If Shattered Lake Prison has never seen a successful escape, their skepticism makes sense.”

”It’s more than that,” Ashe replied with another sigh. ”It’s less about objective doubt and more about emotional resistance. They refuse to believe.”

Ashe had spent his entire day following Iger as he tried to persuade the prison’s most formidable inmates, like Diamond Tiger, Black Beast Tuck, and Skylark Jewel. Before their imprisonment, each of them had been a notorious sorcerer with criminal histories worthy of a horror novel. Yet every single one refused to join the escape.

Ashe wasn’t surprised. Shattered Lake Prison’s iron-fisted control and near-total isolation made immediate belief in escape unrealistic. Doubt was natural. The problem wasn’t doubt. It was their outright resistance. They opposed the very notion of escape.

To make matters worse, the one negotiating with them wasn’t Ashe himself, but Beautiful Beast Iger, a well-known figure within the prison. Though a fraudster by trade, Iger commanded an unexpectedly excellent reputation. He rarely lied and was one of the few information brokers with extensive connections. As he liked to say, ”Lying is taboo for a fraudster. Reputation is a fraudster’s face, and honesty is a fraudster’s most important quality. A fraudster’s greatest failure is when no one wants to talk to him.”

Iger’s words carried weight. Even if the death row inmates didn’t fully believe him, they should at least have sought more information. But they didn’t.

When Iger hinted that he ”might have a way to remove the chip restrictions,” no one asked how, or if it was true. Instead, they either showed expressions that said enough already, brushed past the topic, or simply walked away.

In such a vast prison, they couldn’t find a single companion willing to escape. It made Ashe feel an irresistible urge to declare these were the most hopeless criminals he had ever encountered.

Iger, however, had anticipated it all along. At dinner, he dispelled Ashe’s doubts with a single sentence, ”They’re no longer who they used to be. When left long enough, even waste turns into fertilizer.”

If time was the best poison, Shattered Lake Prison was undeniably the best septic tank. It didn’t matter if someone was harmful or toxic. Once inside, they would be processed into nourishment.

Even an ordinary person could change significantly over a few years. These inmates had spent far longer in prison, and it was only natural that they were no longer the vicious people they once were. Some even reflected on their past crimes with genuine remorse, seeing their former selves as childish and impulsive. Even those without regret gradually lost all expectations for the outside world, finding a sense of belonging within Shattered Lake Prison instead.

Iger was right. The prison was a utopia. Crime was forbidden. There was no racial discrimination, no foul language, and no fighting. Even petty misdeeds like cutting in line or relieving oneself in public were impossible.

As long as the rules were followed, everyone could live freely, without needing to read anyone else’s expression. No one could harm you, and no one could interfere with your interests. In that sense, it was true equality for all.

The death row inmates had committed heinous crimes out of greed, cowardice, recklessness, or impulsiveness. At their core, however, it was because they had grown accustomed to a life steeped in crime—a lifestyle that, for better or worse, gave them a sense of security.

Shattered Lake Prison forcibly changed that lifestyle, yet somehow managed to make them feel secure. And security, once experienced, was addictive.

When someone spent a long time in such an environment, removed from the tangled webs of social obligations and the competitive chaos of the outside world, even if they constantly scoffed at the prison’s rules, the thought of returning to society would leave them bewildered. Many inmates could barely get up in the morning, let alone voluntarily step out of their comfort zone.

Viewed this way, the prison had succeeded in reforming them. Without forced labor or punishment, but merely relying on strict rules, KPIs, and a last-place elimination system, it had transformed death row inmates into compliant workers, ready to contribute whatever value they could. And if no residual value remained? They could participate in the tribunal live broadcasts to earn money. There was always work suited to a death row inmate.

Ashe and Iger’s attempt to recruit them was equivalent to inviting someone to start a business with uncertain prospects and insufficient funds, while also demanding they invest their own money. Worse still, if the venture succeeded, they would be forced to return to a world where every gain required struggle and effort. The mere thought was terrifying. They’d be better off grabbing a toy gun, robbing a bank, and waiting for the Heresy Court to escort them ”home.”

Had Ashe not bound him through the Libra spirit, even Iger himself would likely not have joined the escape. Sure, life outside could be better, but the fear of the Heresy Court would haunt him endlessly. In Shattered Lake, even a fraudster could feel at ease.

If it weren’t for Professor Syrin and the Blood Moon Tribunal, Ashe would have also considered the prison a kind of resort. In addition to its scenery, it had a peculiar way of cleansing the soul. Once he left, he would never again indulge in the luxury of farting in bed. Instead, he would habitually feel that using the toilet was the proper thing to do.

Seen in this light, Ashe was like a great villain, dragging virtuous, reformed inmates back into wrongdoing. Iger, meanwhile, seemed like an innocent victim caught in his trap. He had wanted to live quietly, but now he was forced to become Ashe’s top technician.

Bang!

With a dull crash, the earthen rampart that Ashe and Sonya had battered for over ten minutes finally shattered, revealing an elderly sorcerer hiding within. Before he could speak, Ashe and Sonya obliterated him with Swordheart and Evil Light Slash, respectively. Three spirits and a Sorcerer’s Handbook were released in the process.

This was the finest inheritance Ashe had encountered since entering the Virtual World. The sorcerer wasn’t a combat specialist. He couldn’t fight at all, and his only skill was building earthen walls for defense. At first, Ashe had worried that a spike might suddenly shoot from the ground, but nothing happened. The sorcerer cowered within the rampart, as if the inheritance existed solely to test their output efficiency.

Sonya explained, ”Most sorcerers are actually like this. Full-time combat specialists are rare. Most focus on productive disciplines that lead to good work opportunities, and pick up combat skills only incidentally. Many never even own a combat-type spirit and rarely fight. For instance, healers, weather sorcerers, architects, and horticulturists.”

She muttered, ”If you hadn’t insisted I learn swordsmanship, I’d probably be a Water Class healer and be far removed from combat.”

Ashe frowned. ”But they don’t skip combat entirely, right? Even if real-life fighting isn’t needed, the Knowledge Creatures in the Virtual World won’t just check IDs and let them go.”

”There’s more than one way to deal with Knowledge Creatures, like escape, defense, and so on... sorcerers have many options.”

”But if they never fight, how do they acquire new spirits?”

Sonya laughed while picking up a slumbering spirit from the ground. ”By learning! By training! By researching!

”People like us, who gain from the Virtual World every day, are extremely rare. Most sorcerers acquire spirits by advancing their discipline knowledge, resonating with the Virtual World, and generating new spirits. Knowledge is the foundation of all sorcerers. Studying diligently is the proper path. What we’re doing, adventuring and fighting, is actually the wrong way. Academy-trained sorcerers usually have a complete, well-organized spirit system. Adventuring sorcerers like us? Our assortment is chaotic and far less manageable.

”And we can’t skip classes. Once our Silver Wing is fully formed, we’ll have to catch up and improve our discipline rank. Without Gold-level knowledge, we can’t summon Two-Winged spirits. We’d be stuck in the Sea of Knowledge forever and never reach the Continent of Time.”

Ashe sighed inwardly. So production’s the proper path... and combat’s the unorthodox one, huh?

This type of superhuman system, requiring well-rounded development in virtue, intellect, physique, aesthetics, and labor, terrified him. He was just an ordinary person, with no talent in sports or academics. Other than contributing his miserable value to a company and getting paid, he had no notable skills. If not for the Aurora Sorcerer’s Handbook, which allowed him to ride on the Swordswoman’s coattails by chance, he wouldn’t have had the chance to become a sorcerer.

He thought, Why couldn’t there be a superhuman system where drinking a potion and digesting it was enough to advance?

”Speaking of which, Swordswoman, I remember you mentioned some kind of Golden Fish in the Virtual World, right? Finding it supposedly lets you reach Time Continent.”

Sonya flipped through the Sorcerer’s Handbook with a teasing grin. “It’s just a rumor. If even you, the almighty Watcher, don’t know where the Golden Fish is, how could I? You’re not seriously putting your hopes on it, are you? Might as well hope for a prison riot tomorrow and escape in the chaos... hmm-hmm?”

Ashe stared at her as she made strange noises. ”What’s wrong? Did another part of the handbook clash with your worldview?”

”Let’s just say... You should prepare well before leaving the Virtual World.”

”What?”

”Because the prison might actually riot!”

Sonya pressed close to Ashe, practically vibrating with excitement, and flipped the handbook to a middle page. Written there were the words, ”I have found the Golden Fish.”