The Sorcerer's Handbook

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Chains lashed out in succession, coiling around the redeemed like venomous serpents. Every face had turned grim. With a few words, Fernandez had evenly spread the seed of hatred among them all.

Only now did the full scope of Ashe’s plan become clear. That damned escapee... he wants us to turn on each other, to drag hidden government secrets into the open, to expose those so-called ”small indulgences of power” for the entire city to see. Worse... he’s even going after the untouchables. Why hasn’t the Heresy Court arrived yet? Why hasn’t the Broadcast Station cut the feed? What the hell are the church and the institute thinking?

They exchanged glances. No words were needed. A silent understanding passed between them that they must say nothing further. Any additional revelations would only inflame public outrage. They had to stall in silence while waiting for the Heresy Court to arrive and end this farce.

However, not everyone intended to honor that unspoken pact.

Quiven, a beastman and former leader of the violent Gluttonous Serpent gang, was on the verge of breaking. Compared to the subtle, distant evils of councilors and officials, Quiven’s brutality was raw, direct, and painfully familiar to the citizens. If nothing unexpected happened, he would be the obvious choice for the Blood Moon Tribunal. And a true scoundrel never missed a chance to drag others down with him.

He bellowed, ”Three years ago, the Dragon’s Lair Apartments incident. Fernandez played a major role in that, too. Surely no one’s forgotten? Dragon’s Lair bought properties at high prices and rented them cheaply. They expanded at breakneck speed, not just in Caimon City, but in Dreamveil and the Outer Seas as well. Their rental market was swallowed whole.”

”They paid landlords month by month, but tenants were charged a year, or even two, upfront. It created enormous cash reserves. Everyone saw the ticking time bomb but looked the other way. Some even fanned the flames. Fernandez had the Administrative Department issue the Guidelines on Financial Innovation, allowing banks to create products like rental loans. Tenants took on debt to plug Dragon’s Lair’s gaps. In this incident, Fernandez bears undeniable responsibility, yet technically, he committed no crime.

”How do I know this so clearly? Because I run a commercial bank myself. I seized the opportunity to issue massive amounts of small loans to students and new workers. And as far as I know, one member of the Forest Gallery faction also runs a commercial bank.”

The ogre exhaled heavily as chains scraped and tightened around him. He knew everything would unfold exactly as the cold observer[1] beside him had planned. Worse, he was compelled to accelerate the process until public fury would reduce them all to ashes.

Fernandez’s voice remained calm. ”Andrei, through your efforts, Moon Candy was legalized in Caimon City in 1662. Sugar producers moved from the underground into legitimate business. The largest producer, Everlasting, founded the Everlasting Wine Club the following year. Even now, while you sit imprisoned, Everlasting continues producing Moon Candy. Every second, countless people fall into hallucinations because of it.”

Those few sentences were all it took for Andrei’s stone pillar to erupt. Countless shackles writhed upward like tentacles, binding him. His face darkened as he realized he had sparked the public’s fury.

As an addictive drug, Moon Candy was banned across most of the Blood Moon Kingdom and legalized only in a handful of cities like Caimon. While some enjoyed its sweetness, far more despised it. Nearly every citizen had suffered at the hands of sugar addicts in all kinds of locations, from the streets and restrooms to classrooms and even theaters. The surge in violent crime tied to these addicts had long fueled public resentment.

Andrei did not see himself as wrong. Under the Human Rights and Freedom Act, no one could forbid an adult from consuming Moon Candy. The crimes that followed were a matter entirely different.

Violent crime fell under the jurisdiction of the Heresy Court and was separate from the administration. Their performance metrics were different. Andrei and his peers had never needed to account for the crime wave unleashed by Moon Candy’s legalization.

It was precisely because everyone possessed the right to consume sugar that Moon Candy proved impossible to eradicate.

Since it could not be banned outright, the only viable solution was to bring it into the open and turn it into a legitimate industry. At the very least, the government could collect taxes. Profits would no longer be siphoned off by violent gangs. Sugar addicts could buy it more cheaply. And so, a world was born in which no one was harmed, except for ordinary citizens.

If the authorities enforced a hard ban and arrested sugar users, the Human Rights Association would protest immediately. The Racial Rights Association would not remain silent either. Goblins, beastfolk, and ogres possessed naturally high resistance to drugs and toxins. For these three races, consuming Moon Candy offered more benefits than harm. Even without it, they suffered little to no withdrawal. In fact, regular use often improved their focus and work efficiency.

For ogres in particular, Moon Candy was almost more essential to oil painting than pigment itself.

The proposal to legalize Moon Candy passed not simply because of Andrei’s personal interests, but because the administration reached a consensus based on Caimon City’s local conditions. Every faction stood to gain.

Ordinary citizens had little ground to object. After all, they were the ones who had elected these councilors. Such was elite politics.

Even so, resentment toward the Moon Candy Act continued to grow. Under normal circumstances, resentment could fester freely. Emotions did not grow teeth or bite people. The Blood Moon Tribunal changed that. Under these circumstances, resentment truly could.

Andrei said, ”I expected nothing less from you, Fernandez. The public has now redirected its anger onto me.”

”Andrei, your grasp of language is atrocious,” Fernandez replied with a cold laugh. ”Scapegoating means venting anger on someone uninvolved. You were one of the primary proponents of Moon Candy’s legalization. This is not scapegoating. This is revenge.”

Andrei let out a sigh. ”Must it come to this?”

Fernandez answered evenly, ”If you are willing to sacrifice yourself to protect everyone else, then this game will end with you.”

Andrei swept his gaze across the group, meeting the hopeful looks of his subordinates. Then he turned toward Ashe, who stood at the edge of the platform, calmly watching the spectacle unfold. Deep sorrow surfaced in Andrei’s eyes.

With a bitter smile, he said, ”A group of self-proclaimed elite geniuses, played like puppets by nothing more than a condemned criminal. What an ugly sight. Let me put an end to it.”

Fernandez looked genuinely surprised. Around them, the others exhaled in relief, the fragile joy of survival flickering across their faces.

Andrei roared, ”Arandor Fernandez. If there is anyone here who truly deserves to die, it is you. In the 422 Incident, you were the one who caused innocent citizens of Caimon City to be attacked by foreign sorcerers.”

1. Hint: who has a nickname that means the same as the observer? ☜