The Sorcerer's Handbook

Today was June 4. Only four days had passed since the Schemer Rankings update, leaving a full six days until the system’s normal update cycle.

According to Annan’s meticulous tracking, the Gospel had always been a severe procrastinator. The long wait between the Art Rankings and the Family Ranking represented its normal update cycle, with everything routinely pushed to the absolute last second before the deadline.

In the documented history of the Woven Festival, there had been five distinct instances where updates were delayed until 8:00 a.m. the following morning. Each occurrence had triggered widespread panic across the entire Gospel Kingdom. Countless citizens had lost sleep, convinced the Gospel had broken down and the festival was ruined. It was clear that the system’s habit of running late had left a deep psychological scar on its readers.

On the flip side, however, there had never been a single recorded instance of the Gospel updating early. Not once. At least, not in the ten festivals Annan had analyzed.

The absolute best-case scenario was an update precisely at midnight, and to the anxious masses waiting on the edge of their seats, even that felt like a rare act of mercy from the Omniscient Weaver.

So when Annan and Pankey saw their Books of Gospel suddenly snap open, their immediate reaction wasn’t joy, but absolute terror.

Over the centuries, the people of this kingdom had witnessed mountains crumble, rivers run dry, winter thunder roar, summer snow fall, and even the merging of heaven and earth. They had survived the opening of the Virtual World and seen foreign invasions. Yet, they had never once seen an early update from the Gospel.

This was especially true for someone like Annan. Having worked within agencies and interacted with the system directly, she understood better than anyone that the Gospel operated on strict, unyielding laws. If it ever broke its own rules, it meant the directive was coming from an entity far above it, likely an Angel, or perhaps the Divine Lord himself.

With a thousand frantic thoughts flashing through their minds, everyone hastily opened their Books of Gospel to review the latest masterpiece.

[Happiness Rankings]

Ashe and the others turned to look at Annan with profound admiration. The Lady had already proven her capabilities multiple times, but they were still stunned that she could consistently secure such flawless insider information. It was enough to make them seriously suspect she was the Gospel’s illegitimate daughter.

[Happiness Ranking No.10: The Happiest Wedding]

Synopsis: Daphne Bonabar and Carlos Bonabar had been lovers for ten years. Having weathered countless joys, sorrows, and life’s bitter hardships, they finally became husband and wife. The day they wed in the Sky Garden marked both the grand finale of their trials and the beautiful dawn of their happiness. They would remain together forever, never to be parted, using their profound love to endure endless difficul...ties...?

The text within the Book of Gospel suddenly blurred. Heavy smudges rippled across the page, as if an invisible hand was violently erasing and rewriting recorded history. The more the system tried to correct it, the more chaotic the page became. Soon, the description, the ranking entry, and the entire interface were gradually swallowed by an abyssal black. Then, bleeding through the darkness, crimson ink spread to form a name everyone knew all too well.

[Ashe Heath]

”Huh?” Ashe muttered, looking around in utter confusion as he met the highly suspicious glares of his companions. ”Why are you all staring at me? Look at the Lady! Miss, why is my name up there? Is this part of your surprise?”

”If I had that kind of power, your name would already be locked into the groom’s slot,” Annan retorted irritably. ”Maybe the Gospel just decided mid-update that your wedding is more worthy of the happiness title... wait, look.”

The text block abruptly dissolved, transitioning into live visual footage.

On screen, a magnificent sky garden floated elegantly within a second-layered city. The sun cast a brilliant, gentle glow across the landscape. Below the garden sprawled a vast, prosperous metropolis, while snow-capped mountains framed the distant horizon like a painted backdrop. The entire scenery looked as though it had been plucked straight from a fairy tale.

The garden was filled with guests dressed in exquisite attire. Well-behaved children mingled sweetly among the crowd. As the orchestra played, rows of colorful flowers shimmered, sending rainbow-like waves of light rippling through the air. The sheer joy of the atmosphere practically spilled out of the projection itself.

”Looks incredibly boring,” Harvey remarked flatly. ”If it were my wedding...”

Ashe felt he was finally starting to understand the necromancer’s bizarre mindset. ”Let me guess. You’d hold it in a graveyard?”

”Of course not,” Harvey replied with a deadpan, serious expression. ”I have some taste. A wedding should be lively, intense, and crowded. Ideally, on a fresh battlefield right after a war, with corpses scattered everywhere, blood flowing, the soil still sizzling with heat and violence, and the air heavy with lingering obsessions. A true threshold between life and death. Getting married in a place like that... now that would be truly romantic.”

Ashe initially wanted to shoot the idea down, but the more he visualized it, the more he found himself thinking that a wedding amidst the raw chaos of a battlefield actually did sound oddly romantic...

Lys rushed over and shook his arm aggressively. ”Daddy, snap out of it! Don’t listen, don’t feel, and don’t think about it, or you’re going to stray right down the path of a necromancer!”

At the word stray, Ashe instantly jolted back to reality. He quickly rubbed Lys’s head, desperately trying to stabilize his crumbling worldview. As expected of a necromancer destined to command a Divine Spirit in the future, Harvey was becoming increasingly unhinged by the day. He had nearly succeeded in tempting Ashe into the macabre world of the dead with just a few sentences.

Iger’s calm voice broke the tension. ”The venue itself is fine, but there are far too many people. How many of those guests are actually sincere? And what purpose do those children serve other than causing a nuisance? Besides, the orchestra is far too noisy. A solo piano performance would be much better...”

”Are you already planning your wedding with Anphel?” Ashe teased, turning to him. ”Just remember to send me an invitation.”

Iger shot him a cold glance. ”Don’t hold your breath. You won’t be on the guest list.”

Lys then looked up, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. ”Daddy, what kind of wedding do you want?”

”To be honest, I really dislike loud, lively ceremonies. It always feels like the groom is just a sacrifice on display. If it were up to me, I’d skip the ceremony entirely...”

Annan and Lys rejected the notion in immediate, fierce unison. ”Absolutely not!”

Lys said seriously, ”The wedding is a very, very important moment. Most fairy tales end with a wedding as the happy ending!”

Annan nodded in agreement. ”Exactly! It’s something that only happens once in a lifetime. Once you miss it, there’s no way to make it up!”

”Well, it’s not necessarily once in a lifetime...” Ashe muttered under his breath.

At that moment, the projection finally progressed to the wedding ceremony. The bride and groom, dressed respectively in a princess-style wedding gown and a formal sorcerer’s robe, stepped into view.

Weddings in the Gospel Kingdom were deeply influenced by the Book of Gospel. As part of the tradition, both sides would physically write their names onto each other’s book covers, permanently recording the union. This step carried no practical benefits. For instance, the Gospel wouldn’t suddenly grant them a shopping discount, but it still represented the absolute highest form of commitment in their culture.

To put it in perspective, it was the fantasy equivalent of matching social media avatars, wearing wedding rings on the ring finger, tattooing a partner’s name on your lower back, or stamping an inspection-passed ink mark onto livestock. In short, the moment anyone opened your Book of Gospel, they would instantly know you had formed a permanent party in the game of life.

However, as this officially certified happiest couple appeared on screen, everyone noticed something striking. While both the man and the woman were exceptionally good-looking, their facial features were remarkably similar.

To put it bluntly, anyone could tell at a glance that they were siblings.

Even in the socially progressive Gospel Kingdom, incestuous relationships remained a highly sensitive taboo. Unless a family was wealthy enough to fundamentally alter their genetics through Miracles, even the Gospel itself strictly discouraged reproduction in such cases.

From this perspective, the group finally understood why this wedding truly deserved the title of the happiest. It wasn’t just society they had to fight. Even the Gospel itself would normally have tried to interfere through subtle, invisible arrangements, such as introducing more suitable romantic partners to the sister or engineering better matches for the brother. In the Gospel’s original blueprint, that would have been their version of a better life.

Their immense suffering had stemmed entirely from their stubborn attempt to break free from the Gospel’s constraints. If they had listened to its guidance even once, or followed its arrangements for a single second, all their hardships would have vanished, and an effortless happiness would have been well within reach.

But they never did. Ultimately, the Gospel conceded defeat, and this hard-won future became the compensation it paid them in advance.

The bride and groom looked at each other. There was no blazing, all-consuming passion in their eyes, nor was it the placid, comfortable gaze of ordinary family members. Instead, their vision held only each other, reducing the rest of the world to background dust. If one had to draw a comparison, it resembled the exact look Harvey got whenever he discussed necromancy, an intensity few others could ever match.

It was a deeply etched, mutual madness. And when two such madnesses perfectly answered one another, it birthed a chaotic happiness that even the Gospel was powerless to stop.

Just as the couple sat at a stone table to exchange their Books of Gospel and picked up their pens to sign the covers, the projection suddenly flickered.

In the very next frame, a massive sword abruptly cleaved the sky garden’s stone table right down the middle. The wedding guests froze in shock.

”Honestly, I don’t like this kind of loud, lively ceremony. It always feels like the groom is just a sacrifice on display. If it were up to me, I’d skip the ceremony entirely...”

It was that familiar voice and that familiar line. When it echoed through the projection, everyone at the table subconsciously whipped their heads around to stare at Ashe.

Ashe remained completely deadpan. ”Alright, it’s confirmed. The Gospel is plagiarizing my live commentary.”

On screen, a young man in a dark red coat gripped the hilt of the embedded sword, having materialized in the center of the garden without a soul noticing. He calmly scanned his surroundings, but before he could even utter a word, the guests erupted into pure panic.

”Ashe Heath!”

”The Undying Demon, Heath!”

”The Calamity Demon Lord!”

”The Source of Chaos!”

”He’s back from the dead?!”

”It’s really him?!”

Hearing the crowd’s frantic screams, Ashe and the others felt a bizarre, surreal sensation rising in their chests. Before they could even unpack it, the projection shifted yet again.

A ghostly, white mist suddenly enveloped the entire wedding venue, instantly draining the warmth from the sunlight. A Mist Spirit drifted toward the on-screen Ashe, condensing into a wandering man clad in a dark cloak.

The guests fell into a deeper panic. ”The Lord of the Dead, Harvey! If even he is here, then—”

Right on cue, a well-dressed guest stepped up beside the on-screen Ashe. He smoothly removed his hat and glasses, revealing sleek, shoulder-length blonde hair and a dazzlingly handsome face. The exact moment he unmasked himself, a quarter of the wedding guests immediately drew their weapons and defected, raising black, crow-feathered gloves as they moved to restrain the rest of the crowd.

The remaining guests trembled in terror. ”The Rusty Crow! Why are the Doomsday Triad gathered here?!”

At the dinner table, the real Ashe finally snapped, unable to hold it in any longer. Damn it! What do you mean, Doomsday Triad? I, Ashe Heath, have done absolutely nothing wrong! How on earth did I end up grouped with Iger and Harvey as some sort of apocalyptic triad?!