The Sorcerer's Handbook

Chapter 360: Iger’s Malice

The space felt oppressive and suffocating, the darkness compressing around them like a physical weight. Yet, despite the heavy, stale air, their heartbeats swelled in their chests, pounding with an eager, erratic panic as if desperate to burst free.

Step by step, the Funeral Agency squad descended the abandoned stairwell into the abyss, looking less like professionals and more like a flock of helpless Lala Fats willingly marching into an ogre’s maw.

Every one of them had activated the shoulder lights on their protective suits, even Little Lys, cradled securely on Ashe’s back. Yet the beams did pitifully little to pierce the gloom. Visibility stretched barely five paces ahead. Beyond that, the blackness seemed alive, undulating and wobbling like thick gelatin.

”Ah!”

Everyone jumped, weapons pivoting instantly toward the source of the cry, Ashe and Lys.

Stammering, Lys whimpered, ”J-just now, the wind blew right into my clothes... it tickled my neck...”

She was just a child, and truth be told, the environment was testing the bladder control of the adults as well. Her flinching was perfectly understandable. Relieved, the team offered a few perfunctory words of comfort and pressed on.

But it wasn’t long before another blood-curdling scream shattered the silence.

”Ah!”

The group scattered instinctively, dropping into defensive stances. Iger focused his sharp, piercing gaze on Ashe. ”What’s wrong?”

”I... my... my back—” Ashe shuddered so violently that his words seemed to leave faint afterimages in the air. ”It’s so heavy! Look, quickly! Is there... is there a corpse riding on my back?!”

The suffocating tension evaporated instantly.

Annan sent Second Mistress Donna back into her earrings with a sigh. Pankey lowered his frost-imbued twin pistols. Harvey, still balancing a massive coffin on his shoulder, merely shrugged. ”Ashe, corpses don’t just climb onto people’s backs in this world. At the very least, you’d need to prepare a coffin for that kind of service.”

”Daddy! Daddy!” Lys clutched Ashe’s neck tightly, her little face flushed with indignation. ”It’s me on your back! And I’m not even heavy! You stinky Dad!”

”Let go, let go! I can’t breathe, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die—”

Iger rolled his eyes, his voice dry. ”I didn’t realize you’d mastered the art of being sarcastic and passive-aggressive at the same time, Ashe. I’ll give you a ninety for that performance. By the way, Lys, do you still want him to carry you?”

Back in the car, Lys had clung to Ashe like a burr. The park’s rough terrain meant she would have slowed the group to a crawl on foot, so she had insisted on a piggyback ride.

Lys’s eyes darted mischievously. ”It’s so dark, and I’m so small. If I walk, I might get lost the moment you turn around. It’s much safer if Daddy carries me.”

Iger let out a cold chuckle. ”Oh? So now you’re worried about getting lost?”

Ashe gave Lys a firm swat on the butt to force her to release him, panting heavily. ”Then let Aunt Perskin carry you instead! Her body is soft, her skin is smooth, and she actually smells nice. You’d be way more comfortable. Or, if you insist on a challenge, go find the mature and beautiful Lady Annan. Me? I should be your third choice at best.”

Annan shot him a bizarre look. ”Why am I only the second choice? Am I really that much worse than Iger?”

”Miss, we mere mortals shouldn’t even bother competing with a veela.”

Iger ground his teeth. ”I only have a trace of veela blood!”

Then, glancing down at Lys, a soft, radiant smile spread across his face as he opened his arms wide. ”Fine. Since Ashe is begging so pitifully, I’ll carry Lys.”

The moment Lys saw Iger smile, a violent wave of goosebumps erupted across her skin, sending a freezing chill straight to the crown of her head. Beneath that beautiful, benevolent expression lurked a malice so pure and sharp she felt as if every strand of his hair was poised to coil around her neck and strangle her.

Clinging to Ashe for dear life, she whispered in sheer desperation, ”N-no! I only want you, Daddy!”

This was no longer a game. As the sister most acutely attuned to sensing the intentions of others, a terrifying premonition gripped her. If she ended up in Aunt Perskin’s arms, Iger would absolutely find a way to hurt her. Even if she just walked beside him, the man would engineer a way to dispose of her. Only by anchoring herself to her ”Dad” did she stand a slim chance of survival.

”Uh,” Harvey offered, raising a hand with a warm, helpful suggestion. ”There’s still a little room left in the coffin. Alice wouldn’t mind squeezing in to share the space with Lys.”

Amidst their dark banter, the squad finally reached the end of the subterranean passage.

What greeted them was not a monster-infested tomb strewn with rotting corpses, nor was it Harvey’s infamous ”graveyard of joy.” If anything, it bore a striking resemblance to a long-abandoned public plaza. A lively, cheerful plaza.

Little girls slid down slides, children chased one another playing tag, handsome men strode by with pride, and elegant young women read quietly on park benches. Over there, a gun-loving boy tinkered with his pistols. Nearby, a diligent girl practiced her sword swings with focused intensity. Scatterings of lazy, carefree girls lounged across the grass.

Deep underground, trapped beneath meters of solid earth, they should have been in total darkness. Instead, the space glowed with the bright warmth and idyllic peace of a perfect afternoon.

Ashe suddenly recalled an old saying, ”Where there’s a sea in your heart, any place can be a beach.”

It fit the moment perfectly. Sunlight might never penetrate dozens of meters of solid rock, but these ”people” glowed with an internal radiance, illuminating the vast underground space as brightly as daylight.

”These are...” Iger murmured, his voice trailing off.

”This is Mermaid Weed,” Annan said, gesturing toward the lifelike, glowing figures thronging the street. ”Harvey, the Catnip cigarette you smoke is extracted from them.”

”Miss,” Harvey said, tapping his mask. ”I can’t smoke with the mask on. Please don’t tempt me.”

Even the knowledgeable Purple Moth was temporarily left speechless by the necromancer’s reaction. It occurred to her then that, in this day and age, no creature had evolved enough to match Harvey’s bizarre aesthetic standards.

Ashe stepped closer to the nearest ”girl” to examine her. Up close, the faint texture of plant fibers was visible just beneath the skin, a detail that only heightened the horror. The ”girl” moved, smiled, and behaved with such uncanny realism that she didn’t look like some crude, half-convincing imitation. It looked as if a living girl had been transmuted into a plant, and the sight made his skin crawl.

For a terrifying second, he imagined the figure springing to life and lunging for his throat. His chest tightened—

”Don’t choke me just because you’re scared!” Ashe yelped, shoving backward. The little girl attached to his back trembled violently. ”I’m terrified too!”

Meanwhile, Harvey, whose curiosity had been piqued only moments before, quickly lost interest. His face contorted in a scowl. Reaching out, he slapped the nearest ”beauty,” scattering her instantly into a shower of dead leaves.

”Ugh,” he muttered in disgust. ”This is just too repulsive.”

Hearing such a sentiment from a necromancer was jarringly novel. Ashe couldn’t help but ask, ”Harvey, are you actually a picky eater when it comes to corpses?”

Iger gazed out across the seemingly endless plaza. The bustling yet utterly silent ”crowd” sent a distinct chill down his spine.

”The Six-Emblem turns their dead family members into Mermaid Weed,” Iger said. His tone was matter-of-fact, yet the words hung in the air like a question.

”I’m curious to hear your thoughts on this place, Mr. Harvey,” Annan said. ”I know the basics of the farm, but not the specifics. I assumed you’d appreciate it, but your reaction is... unexpected.”

”This place is a crime against life, a desecration of corpses, and a corruption of the soul,” Harvey said, pronouncing each word with deliberate, solemn emphasis.

Hearing him spout such righteous nonsense, Ashe and Iger couldn’t help but exchange glances, their expressions growing grim.

Ashe cleared his throat and said abruptly, ”My goal in life is to create a Substitute Miracle to take care of me. My three least favorite words are work, society, and exercise.”

Iger seamlessly caught on, adding, ”I like fools, and I hate smart people. My dream is to travel the world once I acquire endless wealth.”

Lys chimed in next, ”I like Daddy and the sisters who are nice to me. I hate bad people, and my dream is to grow up quickly.”

Annan watched them with a raised eyebrow, utterly baffled by the sudden round of self-introductions. Pankeyi, however, seemed to grasp what they were doing and let out a chuckle.

”Well, it looks like our mental faculties are perfectly intact. Our personalities haven’t been warped,” Ashe mused, letting out a breath. ”So, whatever psychological attack is at play here, it only targets the darkest-skinned among us...”

Iger corrected smoothly, ”No. I think it just targets whoever has the most twisted aesthetic tastes. Ashe, with Harvey acting as your lightning rod, you got lucky this time.”

Lys, opting for a more grounded theory, offered a reasonable suggestion. ”Or maybe Uncle Harvey’s brain is just fried from smoking too many cigarettes?”