The Sorcerer's Handbook

”The chip processor is a corpse?”

Harvey tore off his prison uniform. The dried blood from the whipping had glued it to his skin, and as he pulled it free, crisp ripping sounds echoed through the room. Countless wounds that had only just stopped bleeding reopened, and blood streamed down his back from gashes as wide as fingers. At a glance, it looked as if countless eyes were shedding tears.

”Honestly, I’m surprised you even know about the processor,” Harvey said, wiping his body with a towel. ”That kind of knowledge isn’t taught in the foster system. Most people in prison don’t even know what controls their chips. It’s like ants trying to see the humans towering above them. What imprisons us isn’t the prison itself. It’s the chip. Shattered Lake is nothing more than one room in the Blood Moon Kingdom.”

Iger folded his arms and leaned against the wall. ”I consider myself well-informed. I move in high society often, and I even prepared contingency plans for being locked up in Shattered Lake. That’s why I deliberately studied how this prison operates, and only then did I learn about the processor by chance. But you’re a cleaner. How did you uncover this secret?”

Iger had struck the balance perfectly. His tone carried an air of arrogance, tinged with suspicion. As he spoke, he quietly triggered his Resonance spirit to stir Harvey’s emotions. If Harvey truly knew something hidden, he would surely be eager to show off the information and its source.

Harvey, however, merely glanced at Iger’s reflection in the mirror and asked calmly, ”You’ve all been to hospitals, right? Did you ever notice that there are no private hospitals in the Blood Moon Kingdom? Only research institute–affiliated hospitals and maternity hospitals exist.”

Iger frowned. ”Isn’t that normal? Even if private hospitals existed, I wouldn’t go to them. Affiliated hospitals are cheap, reputable, well-staffed, and reliable. Private hospitals wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Harvey continued, ”Generally speaking, medical practitioners come from all races—humans, snake-lizards, elves, beastmen, and even ogres. But there is one department in hospitals reserved for a single race, and outsiders are strictly forbidden.”

Ronna’s eyes flicked to the bloodstains on Harvey’s back. ”Since it’s linked to the research institutes, the race must be the Blood Saints. Which department are you referring to?”

”The Corpse Processing Department,” Harvey said.

He wiped his wounds hard with the towel. His face twisted in pain, yet his voice remained steady. ”If I told you that the research institutes set up affiliated hospitals and banned private medical licenses solely to keep the Corpse Processing Department under their control, would you believe it?”

Ashe stared in confusion. An entire hospital just for one department? That’s like buying crabs just to dip them in vinegar.

Iger, however, seemed to have figured something out. ”Your most serious crime was unauthorized handling of corpses. And the Blood Saint research institutes want to monopolize corpse sources. So corpses must be extremely valuable to them.”

Harvey’s lips curled into a faint smile. ”Corpses aren’t just a resource. They’re their taboo. You were surprised that the chip processor is a corpse. But what if I told you that every Blood Saint is a corpse?”

Ashe recalled the arrogant, white-haired hunter Gerard. No matter how he thought about it, he could not associate him with a corpse. Gerard might have been terrible at card games, but he was clearly sharp-minded, only slightly inferior to Ashe himself.

”A corpse... yes, a corpse. That explains everything!” Iger exclaimed as the realization hit him. ”I’ve always wondered why Blood Saints have such long lifespans and never age. Even elves grow old eventually. I thought it was some Miracles in effect. But if they’re corpses, their appearance would naturally be frozen at the moment of death.”

”Now that you mention it, I’ve met Blood Saints before and never heard their heartbeats,” Ronald said, stroking his chin. ”Ronna, you’re a Moonshadow. You should know more, right?”

He turned to find Ronna wearing a strange expression, or rather, no expression at all. He didn’t speak or blink. Instead, he merely gazed straight ahead like a frozen wax statue.

Harvey explained, ”If he’s a Moonshadow, he cannot respond to this topic. When members first joined the two Blood Moon races, they swore an oath to safeguard each other’s secrets.”

Ashe asked, ”So the processor that controls all death row inmates’ chips is a Blood Saint?”

”Not so fast. We’re not there yet. The Blood Saints have always concealed the fact that they are corpses while controlling all corpse sources. Their goal is to prevent anyone from studying necromancy through corpses. Necromancy is currently the only sorcery class capable of controlling corpses.

”In other words, necromancers are the natural enemies of the Blood Saints. I can’t manipulate a Blood Saint as easily as I can a corpse, but if I face a Blood Saint sorcerer of equal level, unless they’re proficient in necromancy, I can prevent them from even activating their spirits. I can wear down their soul with dizziness and confusion until they become a true corpse.”

Iger raised an eyebrow, reserving judgment. Every sorcerer claimed their own class was the strongest. Just as Iger firmly believed the Mind Class reigned supreme, Harvey’s praise of necromancy was likely exaggerated. Nearly every unpopular class claimed its power had been banned because it was too strong.

Ronna held a similar stance. As an exiled Moonshadow, he undoubtedly knew more, but bound by the oath, he could reveal nothing at all.

Ronald and Ashe both wore expressions that clearly said, You’re amazing. I’m with you now. Ashe clenched his fist in excitement. ”Alright. If Hunter Captain Gerard chases us during the escape, we’ll leave him to you, Harvey!”

Harvey’s expression stiffened. ”Even if we’re natural enemies, that doesn’t mean a One-Winged can take on a Three-Winged...”

Iger shot Ashe a sidelong glance, silently acknowledging his reputation as a man who thrived among deceivers. Well played.

With a single casual remark, Ashe had quietly pushed Harvey back into his place. Beneath that seemingly admiring face lay nothing but carefully laid verbal traps. Is this the true talent of a cult leader? Iger thought.

Harvey changed his tone. ”That said, I can’t contend with a true Three-Winged Sacred Realm Blood Saint. But if the opponent is in a special dormant state, that’s a different matter entirely. For example, a Blood Saint remnant being used as a chip processor.”

Ashe’s mind immediately jumped to one word: biotechnology.

In this world, sorcerer technology was remarkably advanced. The chip implanted at the back of the neck was just one example. Normally, a chip functioned as a personal terminal. It could transmit information, play videos, stream music, or act as a locator without issue. But directly controlling human behavior clearly exceeded the chip’s design limits.

Needs that surpassed those limits were fulfilled by Miracles, which could only be executed by sorcerers. Even if the sorcerer was dead, under certain conditions, their Miracles could still function.

The so-called chip processors were, in truth, corpses of Blood Saint sorcerers whose souls had returned to the Virtual World. Using Miracles from the Necromancy, Alchemy, and Electromagnetic Classes, Blood Saint sorcerers recycled these corpses, turning them into terminal processors capable of automatically receiving and transmitting chip signals.

It was energy-efficient, environmentally clever, and astonishingly imaginative. By forcibly breaking through theoretical limits, the system allowed death row inmates to experience technology that should not have existed for centuries.

Ashe asked, ”If all you need is a sorcerer’s corpse, it doesn’t have to be a Blood Saint, does it?”

Harvey shook his head. ”That’s speculative. Existing Blood Saints are corpses whose souls have not yet returned to the Virtual World, and their bodies remain intact indefinitely. That means their souls remain within the body, most likely within their blood. Even if much of the soul has dissipated, fragments remain in the blood and flesh.”

Iger’s eyes widened. ”Resurrection?”

Harvey nodded. ”To Blood Saints, a corpse does not mean complete annihilation. Becoming a processor may be a crucial step in a resurrection ritual. Not all Blood Saint sorcerers become processors. This may be a privilege reserved for high-ranking sorcerers.

”By the way, I ran some tests. When I activate my chip’s light screen and perform complex actions, like browsing videos or playing Curtain games, I can detect a clear consumption of soul energy. It recovers quickly, almost imperceptibly. That energy is either the power source for running the chip, or... nourishment required by the corpse.”

Ashe felt a chill crawl up his spine. He subconsciously scratched the back of his neck. It was as if everyone had a tube connecting them to a withered, ancient corpse that continuously siphoned their life force.

Ronald was visibly disgusted. ”Ugh... that’s... urgh!”

He bolted into a stall and vomited into the toilet.

Harvey set the towel aside and leaned against the sink. His gaze swept over them. ”So, are you willing to accept me as a member?”

Even Iger had no choice but to acknowledge him. ”Archibald, welcome aboard.”

Harvey raised a hand. ”Not so fast. I still need to verify something. You have a way to remove the chips, right? If not, this so-called escape is nothing but a bad joke.”

Iger nodded. ”We do.”

”Then the plan has some chance of success. But before I join, you must sign a contract and agree to one condition.”

Iger’s voice grew cold. ”Necromancer, I admit you’ve brought some interesting information, but that’s all it is. So far, I don’t see how you contribute to the escape.”

As Ronna patted Ronald’s back to help him recover, he asked, ”You claim you can control the corpses used as chip processors. Does that mean you can modify our chip permissions directly?”

Harvey shook his head. ”No. We need the Sinner’s Directory to modify prisoner permissions. Unless our mark is erased from the registry, there’s no way to reduce a chip’s restrictions.”

Iger’s expression darkened. ”Then what use are you?”

Harvey smiled faintly. ”I may not be able to loosen restraints, but I can tighten someone else’s. Opening shackles is hard; putting them on others is easy.”

He drew a finger lightly across his own neck. ”The guards’ chips are also under the processor’s authority.”