The Sorcerer's Handbook

Chapter 170: So This Is What Hatred Feels Like

Before the prison break, Ashe had met Ronald alone in the cafeteria. To Ashe, Ronald was little more than a tool, but that didn’t mean he felt no sympathy. He had tested Ronald’s intentions after the escape, whether he would part ways with Ronna immediately or attempt to assassinate him.

If it were the latter, Ashe could reach an understanding. Once Harvey’s contract was fulfilled, the escapees would inevitably turn on one another. This was not a matter of self-interest or grudges; it was purely a matter of trust. You could never be certain who would strike first, so you had to strike before them.

When dealing with death row inmates clawing their way out of a cesspit, the safest assumption was to imagine them at their worst, filthiest, and most despicable. After all, they judged others with the same rotten hearts they carried.

If Ronald needed it, Ashe could secretly coordinate with Iger and Harvey. When the split came, the four of them could focus their attack on Ronna. The bald werewolf was undeniably the strongest among them, and with his ruling-class Moonshadow bloodline, there were more than enough reasons to take him down.

Yet Ronald firmly refused Ashe’s offer. He thanked him for the help and proposal, but insisted no one interfere in his affairs. It wasn’t that Ashe looked down on him, but it felt absurd for a gang assassin to have principles about killing. Ronald offered little explanation. He simply shook his head and said their involvement would only ruin his revenge.

”I must make Ronna feel true pain.”

***

Ahead stood Gerard, brandishing the Blade of Destruction. Behind him, Ronald lingered, hatred long-nursed in his chest. Ronna showed neither grief nor joy. When the steel pellet whistled past, he merely tilted his head.

Then a figure appeared before him.

Spurt.

Gerard’s segmented whip sword struck a body and came to an abrupt halt. The Miracle-infused blade had collided with something harder than metal, heavier than mire. All its force was absorbed by the frail frame before him. The strike felt... wrong.

Blood splattered across Ronna’s face like a burning whip. He lowered his gaze, taking in the figure shielding him.

Despite being only a One-Winged sorcerer, Ronald was able to become a Gold Beak thanks to a hidden art he obtained from the Virtual World. It allowed him to create disposable steel pellets equivalent to weapon spirits. With careful preparation, their destructive power could rival a Two-Winged sorcerer’s. And one special pellet—the Blink Pellet—allowed him to teleport to its location.

Since the escape, Ronna had spent great effort gathering the materials and forging a single Blink Pellet for him. Ronald’s former safehouses and stored tools had long been seized and auctioned off by the Heresy Court.

The pellet had countless potential uses. Just moments ago, there had been three crises in which Ronald could have used it to escape, yet he decided to save it for this moment.

As Gerard withdrew the segmented whip sword, Ronald collapsed backward like a heap of sludge. Ronna caught him. The wound exposed cold, jagged steel bones beneath.

This was the secret behind Ronald’s pellets. He did not propel them with sorcery. Instead, he used the steel skeleton within his own body as a magnetic foundation to guide them.

The steel bones were more than just a casting medium. They were a Miracle in their own right, granting him formidable defense. He might appear frail, but Ronald could disperse and absorb any impact through his entire steel structure. Not even Ronna had ever bitten through one of his bones.

The moment Gerard struck, the Gold Beak was already dead. He had successfully absorbed the full force of Gerard’s attack, but at the cost of his bones, organs, and muscles being utterly crushed.

Ronna felt as if he were holding not a man, but melting ice cream. Ronald had deliberately preserved his face, letting Ronna see his final expression. The corners of his mouth rested in a faint lift, and his eyes were slightly narrowed, giving the impression of a smile.

From that expression, Ronna discerned hatred, relief, and even a trace... of pity.

Ronna shifted Ronald’s corpse onto his shoulder and slammed a hand against the platform. ”Pray to the Moon’s Dark Side.”

Strange runes erupted across the platform. The crimson moon cast its dark light, and the area became an absolute forbidden zone. Everyone atop it, including Gerard and Ronna himself, was forced away.

Gerard spread his three wings. He hovered in the air and stared grimly at the Virtual Channel being erased by the dark radiance. ”How did you—”

Ronna interrupted, ”You should have read my record. I was once an elite Moonshadow priest.”

Setting Ronald’s body down, he glanced at the distant priests watching the platform.

”In the hunting festival, a priest’s greatest role isn’t to bless warriors. It is to seal and destroy the passage.”

”So many years have passed, and yet the rite of the Moon’s Dark Side has barely changed. I can still trigger the spell embedded in this platform, complete the final step, draw upon Moonshadow power, and permanently seal the Virtual Channel.”

Gerard no longer seemed anxious. After watching Ashe step into the passage, the Bloodrage Hunter captain returned to his usual composure. ”But that also means you can’t escape.”

Ronna removed his cloak, revealing a fierce, hairless face. ”Shattered Lake Prison, Caimon City, or any other nation makes no difference to me. Ronnie longed to escape. I merely did everything in my power to grant his wish. Ashe helped him just now. I hope this return favor satisfies him.”

Gerard sighed. ”Ashe Heath... he’s a devil more bewitching than a veela. To think he could make even a Moonshadow traitor willing to sacrifice himself to ensure his escape.”

Ronna stripped off his shirt, revealing a powerful, marble-like physique. ”Who said I planned to sacrifice myself?”

Gerard flicked his segmented whip sword lightly, shaking blood from its edge into a fine mist. ”Do you mean to tell me you plan to escape right under my eyes? I am not a man who worships power alone, but you’ve already exhausted yourself just to barely withstand my blade. I am not convinced you can succeed.”

The white-haired hunter’s red eyes flashed with a vicious glint. ”Frankly, I’m in a foul mood tonight. I’d like to go home and rest. I’m already working overtime. I will no longer honor the Heresy Court Enforcement Code. Anyone who tries to keep me from clocking out will receive no mercy.”

Ronna seemed unfazed by the threat. He asked calmly, ”As fellow favored children of the Blood Moon Lord, do you know the difference between the Moonshadow and the Blood Saint Clan?”

Gerard answered without hesitation, ”Moonshadow governs life, while Blood Saint guards death.”

Ronna glanced at the Moonshadow priests observing from a distance. ”Exactly. Moonshadow governs life, while Blood Saint guards death. It reflects both the social roles and the temperaments of our people. Blood Saints carry the calm of death itself, while Moonshadow remains as passionate as newborns. But in my view, one could also say that Blood Saints are like corrupt adults, while Moonshadow are mischievous children.”

Gerard, remembering his wolf-tailed subordinate Amy, had to admit Ronna’s words rang true. Then something struck him, and he fixed his gaze on Ronna. ”Ronna Chios, you seem...”

Ronna recited, ”’Only those pure of heart, those who never forget to pray at night, can become Moonshadow on a full-moon night when wolfsbane blooms. Since childhood, I knew I was different from other Moonshadows. They brimmed with passion, impulsive emotion, innocent purity, and simple greed. I was the opposite, born without emotion or desire.

”Yet I still became a Moonshadow, a werewolf that can transform only within shadow. The priests told me to conceal myself, but most Moonshadow spirits require emotion as fuel. I had no choice but to rely on the Affection spirit.

”Call it luck or misfortune, I obtained a forbidden Mind Class rite in the Virtual World. It allows a sorcerer to harvest the emotions of others, clearly designed to support Miracles that consume vast quantities of feeling.

”For me, emotion was exactly what I needed. I needed to harvest feelings, to fill the emptiness inside. I modified the rite, but the process was far bloodier. I was soon captured, and my secret was exposed. The Church did not execute me. They never execute one of their own. Instead, they sent me to Shattered Lake Prison, where I could continue my research.

”I planted Affection within my targets and let it flood their bodies. I exhausted myself trying to perform the shape of love, yet achieved nothing. Without emotions, no matter how many I harvested, I could neither understand nor experience them.”

Ronna clenched his blood-stained fist. ”But when I watched Ronnie die before my eyes just now, the wasteland within me sprouted its first shoot. Nine years. It took me nine years to finally feel emotion.”

Gerard asked with interest, ”Was it love?”

”No. Hatred,” Ronna’s voice finally carried a faint tremor. ”Ronnie chose to die before me out of hatred. He knew my feelings were all an act. He knew that any revenge against me would be meaningless, and the only way to make me suffer was to give me emotions.

”So he escaped prison. He left the Blood Moon Kingdom. He gathered hope and happiness. Then, at the perfect moment, he died before me in the most tragic way possible, like foam bursting apart.

”In that instant, the twisted tree in his heart bore its brightest fruit. It grew from pain, fed on hope and joy, and stretched toward the light of freedom. Then it was planted deep within me.

”He succeeded. And so did I.”

Ronna raised both thumbs and used Ronald’s blood to draw two streaks beneath his eyes. ”So this is what hatred feels like.”

At the sight of this, Gerard’s brow twitched violently as unpleasant memories flooded his mind.