The Sorcerer's Handbook

On Basement Level 51 of the Tower Observation Deck.

The former office of the Funeral Agency lay in ruins.

Cliose descended lightly onto the balcony, the blue flames of her Stabilizer Boots flickering out the moment her feet touched the ground. As a Sacred Realm sorcerer, she could have easily relied on her wings alone. Yet, for a Red Hat, the boots were a matter of instinct; she had trained in them since the day she earned her first wing. After thirty years, flying in them felt more natural than flying without, even when crossing the vast open skies.

As Azura’s number one Red Hat stepped into the living room, the agents of the Good Moonlight Agency moved aside to clear a path. Several Red Hats followed closely behind.

Seeing the agency personnel rifling through drawers and cabinets, one Red Hat snapped, ”What are you doing? According to—”

A voice cut in smoothly, ”According to the Public Safety Administration Regulations, civilians engaged in the lawful pursuit of a wanted criminal are authorized to search items related to the suspect for intelligence.”

The person speaking sat on the only sofa that hadn’t been destroyed by gunfire. It was an elderly woman who appeared thin and composed, wearing light makeup that barely hid the lines of her age. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her lips were pale and dry, and a simple red shawl draped over her plain dress. Despite the careless appearance, she carried a commanding presence.

She closed the Book of Gospel in her hands. ”Since the Red Hats are here, I’ll leave the place to you. Children, put down what you’re holding. Do not interfere with the Red Hats’ work.”

”Aina Aldo,” Cliose’s voice turned cold. ”When you attacked the Funeral Agency, no warrant had been issued. Even if you’re allowed to search items related to a wanted criminal, most of this property belongs to Annan Dolan. Your agency has already committed illegal entry and property damage.”

Aina rose slowly to her feet. She lifted her head and met Cliose’s gaze. ”Is that so.”

The frail elderly woman faced the tall Red Hat elf without a hint of retreat.

The tension in the room sharpened. Acrid gun smoke hung thick and heavy in the air. All around, agency personnel and Red Hats quietly clicked off their safeties, eyes searching for an angle to fire. The ruined living room stood on the precipice of an even more brutal eruption of violence.

If there was one group the Red Hats despised most, it was the agencies. They saw them as vermin, creatures that thrived in the loopholes of the Book of Gospel and lurked in the shadows to handle the work too filthy for the light. In the end, it was always the Red Hats who were left to scrub away the stains.

The recent Beastman sorcerer murder case was a perfect example. Among them, Aina Aldo, the Red Cicada Duchess of the Good Moonlight Agency, stood out as especially troublesome.

Unlike quieter agencies, hers plastered advertisements across the entire city. Through her mastery of Gospel loopholes, she had been tied to several shocking massacres in Azura. To the Red Hats, she was a constant provocation, a public insult they could neither ignore nor act against. The Book of Gospel never gave them the evidence they needed.

Even the most rule-abiding Red Hats could do nothing, which only deepened their frustration. Cliose, in particular, found it difficult to offer even the slightest goodwill.

Aina was no ordinary opponent. As a Three-Winged sorcerer, she had carved her path from nothing, ruling Azura for decades through sheer cunning. Though she held no official title, the name ”duchess” had long since attached itself to her. The Good Moonlight Agency was not to be taken lightly.

The standoff stretched tight. Cliose did not yield. A faint mist gathered in her eyes, as though she might break into tears at any moment.

Aina noticed. She stepped back slightly and opened the Book of Gospel to a marked page. ”This is a compensation contract between the Funeral Agency and the Good Moonlight Agency. It has been overdue for twenty-six years. I am here as a creditor to collect, not as an intruder.”

Cliose glanced at it, her expression darkening. ”In 1631, Leix Dolan activated a voicemail service from Aslan Communications and failed to pay... leading to accumulated debt? That company went bankrupt long ago, and you still managed to dig this up?”

”Lawful compliance is the foundation of agency operations,” Aina replied calmly. ”Now if you may excuse me.”

”Wait,” Cliose’s voice cut through the air. ”Bring over the people who attacked Ashe. The Red Hats need to question them.”

Aina did not hesitate. ”It is their honor.”

With a gesture, Maynard and Lyman were brought forward.

”However, they have suffered severe psychological trauma and require rest. They will not be following you. Unless you can produce a cooperation warrant, you may question them here.”

Cliose studied them and realized Aina was not exaggerating.

Both of the agency personnel were wrapped in heated towels. The skin around Lyman’s throat showed signs of emergency treatment. Yet their physical injuries were not the most disturbing part. It was their eyes.

They did not look at her. Their gazes drifted somewhere far away, as if locked in another world. Their minds remained trapped, unable to return.

”What... did you encounter?”

At the question, both of them trembled violently, as if pierced by something unseen. They were not resisting. They were holding something back.

Something had clawed at the edges of their minds. It had already seeped in, warping their perception and gnawing at their nerves. The bloodshot veins in their eyes were the last stand of their consciousness, a silent, desperate struggle to remain themselves.

Escape had not freed them from danger. It had only hastened their fall into the nightmare.

”Ashe Heath...”

”What?”

Maynard lunged forward and grabbed Cliose by the shoulders. ”Ashe Heath!”

The Weeping Sand did not resist, allowing the nearly unhinged young man to cling to her.

”Kill him. You have to kill him. If you don’t, it’ll be too late. Too late!”

Behind him, Lyman collapsed to the ground. A sharp, acrid stench spread through the room. She had completely lost control.

Cliose remained unmoved. ”Is this the effect of the Demonic Coat and the Mask of Distortion?”

”Most likely,” Aina replied. ”But according to the Art Ranking, the Demonic Coat only suppresses hostility, while the Mask of Distortion enhances first impressions and interferes with detection... As you can see, the actual effects are far beyond what’s described.”

She paused, her gaze steady. ”Either the rankings didn’t fully disclose the rewards... or those items only have those functions in theory, but undergo a qualitative change in the hands of their wielder.”

The elderly woman continued, her tone calm but deliberate. ”I wasn’t sure which it was. But now that the Empire has issued a wanted order, it means the imperial capital, Nabistin, already knows the answer.”

Cliose signaled for the two to be taken away, then turned back. ”Aina, what exactly are you trying to say?”

”Let’s cooperate.”

The Duchess spoke slowly, her voice low yet clear, each word measured and impossible to ignore. ”The sea witches maintain neutrality. They do not break the rules. Miss Dolan has run her agency for years, and dealing with Red Hats is a basic professional skill... You need us, just as we need you.”

Cliose did not hide her disgust. ”What do you want?”

”To obtain the new loophole Annan discovered. To take control of those outsiders. To claim the Woven Festival.”

Aina met her gaze without hesitation. ”I won’t pretend otherwise. Just as you’ve never hidden your pursuit of rankings. We both know these are only personal ambitions.”

She spoke each word with quiet emphasis. ”Our only true shared interest is the Book of Gospel. Without it, we are nothing. We are its children, shaped and elevated by its blessing. And now, the Gospel is calling for help. What reason do we have to refuse?”

The Red Cicada Duchess extended her hand. ”It’s time to repay the Gospel. Let’s save the world together.”

Cliose fell silent. After a moment, she summoned her own Book of Gospel.

Aina’s expression shifted slightly. ”I heard Miss Dolan is your closest friend—”

Cliose cut in. ”She is, which is exactly why I can’t decide this alone.”

Soon, the Gospel gave its answer.

The mist in Cliose’s eyes gathered and spilled down her cheeks. Yet her lips curved upward. She looked as if she were smiling through tears, or crying through a smile.

”The Gospel told you to kill your friend?”

Cliose shook her head and reached out, taking Aina’s hand. ”No. It only told me that if I complete the Empire’s bounty, I can become number one on the national Red Hat Rankings.”

She sniffed softly. ”As her best friend, Annan will understand. Because the Gospel says she must.”

For the first time in history, Azura’s red and black blended into a new, unfamiliar hue.