The Sorcerer's Handbook

On the Virtual World’s Sea of Knowledge.

”A Moonshadow werewolf that can’t transform under moonlight... Your prison truly is full of talent. I expected no less from a multi-species kingdom.”

Sonya lay at the bow of the small boat, staring at the gray, overcast sky. ”But what exactly is this Gourmet’s ritual? I’ve never heard of anything so brutal and bizarre. Is he trying to summon a Gluttony Class spirit?”

In theory, the most easily mastered sorcery classes weren’t elemental arts like fire, earth, or sword techniques. Those counted as external sorcery classes and still required deliberate training to gain experience.

Internal sorcery classes, by contrast, granted experience even without active practice.

What counted as an internal sorcery class? The answer lay in the daily, unavoidable activities every sorcerer performed, like eating, sleeping, listening, observing, and excreting. These were routine actions one could hardly avoid from childhood. If they could be converted into sorcerers’ experience, nearly every sorcerer would theoretically master seven or eight classes.

Unfortunately, this was only theoretical. The seemingly most effortless internal sorcery classes were, in reality, far harder to master than external ones. No matter how difficult the external sorcery class was, with effort, anyone could eventually make progress. Internal class, however, was almost entirely tied to innate racial talent. Without the proper internal aptitude from birth, a sorcerer could spend a lifetime without ever independently mastering a single internal class.

The Gluttony Class Sonya mentioned was one such internal class, typically found only among ogres. Even then, not every ogre sorcerer could grasp it. Only a rare few ever experienced a sudden enlightenment and managed to start learning it.

Internal classes couldn’t be taught. There’s nothing to instruct in eating, excreting, or sleeping.

Moreover, the internal sorcery class was intimately tied to the sorcerer’s inner desires, emotional shifts, and personality. This was knowledge that couldn’t be recorded or explained. It could only be understood intuitively.

Sonya’s guess had its reasons. After all, eating and gluttony were inseparable. Many believed ogres inherited the talent for the Gluttony Class precisely because they tended to consume humans.

Ashe added, ”I think Ronna eats simply for the sake of eating, but Iger sees it differently. In his view, the ritual isn’t really about food. Eating is only the first step. The true core of the ritual... is love.”

”Love?”

”Have you ever farmed a field?” Ashe asked.

If anyone else had said it, Sonya would have been insulted, doubly so. First, for implying that a young, beautiful sorcerer could never farm; and second, for questioning someone from an agricultural village who clearly had experience in the field.

”I understand. Go on,” she said.

Ashe reclined at the stern and bit his fingernail as he explained, ”Iger believes Ronna is planting seeds, seeds of love in his target’s heart. Through the most intimate and bloody acts, which in this case, eating, he accelerates their growth, essentially fertilizing and cultivating them.

”Ronald, however, refuses to acknowledge it. He’s lost interest in almost everything else. The only thing that sparks desire in him is participating in Ronna’s ritual. Even if Ronna suddenly changed the menu, Ronald would probably write his own name at the top.”

Sonya shivered. ”And when the seeds of love fully sprout... what does Ronna harvest? The soul?”

Ashe shook his head. ”Iger hasn’t figured that part out. It’s probably related to the soul, but not limited to it. Still, that’s between them. All we care about is the bond between Ronna and Ronald, a bond neither of them can sever. That’s our leverage.”

”So, convincing Ronald means gaining Ronna as an ally,” Sonya reminded. ”But they’re both ruthless death row inmates. Are you sure there’s really no problem with this?”

Unlike Iger, who relied on deception and had little combat skill, Ronald was a deadly strategist from the Woodpecker gang and a master of traps, firearms, and hidden weapons. Ronna was even more terrifying. He was a Moonshadow werewolf and one of the highest-tier combatants, even among Two-Winged sorcerers.

Compared to them, Ashe and Iger were like two bleating lambs. Without the prison’s protection, confronting both Ronna and Ronald would almost certainly end in disaster.

Ashe sighed. ”The prison isn’t a talent pool. We’re already lucky to have found two skilled inmates willing to attempt a jailbreak. We’re in no position to worry about morality. All we can do is hope the prison’s reforms actually work.”

Ironically, Ashe wished for a delicate balance. He hoped the prison’s reforms weren’t so successful that no one would dare attempt a jailbreak, yet he also hoped they were effective enough to ensure that any inmate who did try would still retain a sense of moral restraint, so that escaping would serve some greater purpose rather than pure chaos.

He added. ”But I don’t really have to worry. When it comes to safety, Iger is far more cautious than I am.”

Stretching his legs across the boat, Ashe continued, ”He’s already planted suggestions in Ronald’s mind, heightening his sense of danger. It’s not deception. It’s making Ronald fully aware that as long as he doesn’t kill Ronna, his craving and his desire to be consumed by Ronna will never fade.”

Sonya pushed Ashe’s leg back. ”But if they break out, won’t they just end up killing each other?”

Ashe replied with a wry smile, ”Killing each other? That would be the least of it. If the situation allows, Iger would have the two of them draw the Heresy Court’s attention while he slips away unnoticed. And right now, he still has a wish he can use on me. I haven’t even thought about how to deal with that yet.”

Of course, a wish couldn’t be too extreme. It had to be something the recipient could fulfill without triggering instinctive resistance. Asking someone to commit suicide, for example, would be unreasonable. It ran directly counter to basic survival instinct.

In Ashe’s case, he was only asking Iger to assist him in escaping, not to handle the escape entirely for him. A strict wish like the latter would be invalid.

Even so, Iger could still make Ashe jump through hoops. During the escape, he might demand that Ashe cover the rear. It was a reasonable request, and Ashe wouldn’t be able to refuse. Even if hundreds of Bloodrage Hunters charged at them, he would have to turn back and protect their retreat, fulfilling his obligation to cover the rear before continuing his escape.

”What’s your plan, then? And do you have anything planned for after the jailbreak?” Sonya asked.

”More or less,” Ashe said. ”First, I’ll track down the enemies of the original owner of this body, an elf named Professor Syrin. It’d be great if I could get my revenge. If not, I’ll steal some money and figure out a way to survive.”

”Wouldn’t that just be the same as going with the flow? Aren’t you worried the outside world’s even more dangerous than the prison? At least in there, you’re relatively safe.”

Ashe explained with a calm and measured tone, ”This is a calculated risk strategy. It’s about using abstract analysis to maximize long-term gains, like balancing life, escape logic, and resource allocation.”

”Could you say that in terms a child would understand?”

He gave her a faint smile. ”It means that no matter how difficult the path I choose may be, it’s one I am willing to follow. My future self will handle whatever regret I have. Right now, I just need to make sure I don’t give myself reason to regret anything. You don’t want to see me crying every day just because I’m stuck in prison, do you?”

Sonya smirked. ”You might as well perform, then. I love watching people cry their eyes out, preferably with snot running down their faces.”

Ashe sat up. ”Besides, I still have you.”

”I can’t help you,” Sonya said, rolling her eyes.

”Because of the bond between us, the stronger you are, the stronger I become. So, if you don’t want to end up alone exploring the Virtual World someday, you’d better train harder and not leave on schedule. Don’t live such a comfortable life at your age. Step out of your comfort zone.”

Sonya stretched and sat up, muttering, ”Now you’ve got me tempted to slack off. Eh, I’m not training just because you say so. I’ll do whatever I feel like. Has your mana recovered?”

”Almost,” Ashe replied.

They had just fought a Rookie Deepsea Bubble Dragon and exhausted nearly all their mana before barely driving it off. Resting on the boat was necessary, and these moments often became their chance to catch up on their daily life.

In fact, they often had stretches of downtime. After reclaiming more than half of the Silver Wings, both the Inheritance Islands and the Knowledge Creatures they encountered had become significantly more challenging. More often than not, the creatures would drain their mana and then flee, which Ashe suspected was deliberate.

But the Swordswoman had explained that this was normal. They couldn’t instantly kill Knowledge Creatures, lacked crowd-control spells like stuns, and weren’t fast enough to pin them down. It was only natural that the creatures would escape.

This was the predicament most Silver Rank sorcerers faced. They might excel in one area and cooperate well in the real world, but in the Virtual World, a single weakness could become a critical tactical flaw. A sorcerer could only truly refine their system of magic after reaching the Two-Winged Gold or Three-Winged Sacred Realm level. Even then, new challenges would still await.

Ashe opened the Virtual World map, but there was little to see. The surrounding twenty-four grid zones were all labeled A Waste of Effort. In such cases, the only option was to pick a direction and try their luck.

”Ah!?” Sonya frowned. ”How did you—”

Ashe covered her mouth with one hand and pressed a finger to his own lips with the other.

Sonya blinked, understood immediately, and lowered her voice. ”Is there a sorcerer nearby?”

Ashe nodded, then turned toward the fog-shrouded sea beside them.

On the Virtual World map, a yellow marker identical to theirs had suddenly appeared in the adjacent zone.

Ten meters from the boat, the fog parted to reveal a small Gate of Truth. A figure fell through it.

Just before hitting the water, the figure released a burst of smoke, then transformed into a tiny bat that flapped its wings and darted forward.