Sorcerer’s Handbook

Igor stared at the dagger planted in front of Ashe, his parched lips trembling slightly, a long-absent sense of fear gnawing at his heart like a wolf.

Am I afraid of death? Am I just an ordinary man after all? Am I just an unqualified Con Artist? he pondered.

Fear is a calm Bewitcher, and composure is the lifeblood of a Con Artist. When composure is drained by fear, it signifies the end of a Con Artist’s life.

Igor had forgotten when he last felt fear. When he deceitfully obtained his first lollipop from the children in the Nursery, when he preemptively accused other children to the director of the Nursery, it was as if he had lost the sensation of fear altogether.

After diligently studying the Mind Faction, Igor deemed himself a natural antisocial personality. Not being a Con Artist would be a waste of a trip to this world. For him, manipulating human nature wasn’t just for profit, but survival—he was someone who could only thrive in darkness, unable to live without deceit and schemes.

The unique social environment and strategic location of the Blood Moon Kingdom made his Occupation a breeze. Even being caught by the Sin Hunter’s Hall was not a cause for fear in Igor; he saw it as vocational training. Although the Prisoners in Shattered Lake Prison were tougher to deceive, it only increased Igor’s enthusiasm for the challenge.

Igor had never feared the vagaries of Destiny; he had been in far more perilous situations in the past. Encircled by hitmen from the organization, held at gunpoint, and even threatened with mutilation, he had experienced it all, yet he felt no fear in his heart.

Because the first person a Con Artist deceives is himself.

If a Con Artist doesn’t believe in his own immortality, how can he dare to deceive others? If a Con Artist doesn’t believe that his next words can turn the situation around, how can he deceive others?

Clearly, his life was not in danger.

Clearly, he still had a hold on Ashe’s wish.

With just one command, Ashe would be unable to harm him in the slightest.

Ashe would probably target Harvey first, Igor thought.

As for the possibility of Ashe rejecting the invitation, Igor hadn’t even considered it – Ashe had no reason not to strike at them, just as a Bewitcher would not refuse an Orc delivered right to her doorstep.

For this group of Prison Escapees from Shattered Lake Prison, slaying each other was a form of greeting; they would create opportunities for betrayal even where none existed, and if given the chance, they would exploit it to the fullest.

Among them, there was only a pure relationship of mutual exploitation, with no room for mercy.

It was strange to think that, after successfully escaping the prison, they had no conflicts of interest, yet Igor felt a profound vigilance towards the others, trusting strangers more than his fellow escapees.

They were of the same kind, incapable of peaceful coexistence. If they had to act together, it was inevitably punctuated with death.

Igor had pondered why he harbored Killing Intent towards his fellow escapees.

To erase the past? The Sin Hunter’s Hall still held his extensive criminal record.

To guard secrets? Having left Blood Moon behind, the secrets of Harvey and Igor held no significance.

To protect himself?

Yes, that was it – to protect himself. Because Igor realized that, no matter how distrustful or vigilant he was, when the time came, he would still choose to cooperate with Harvey and Ashe. And they were familiar with his Battle style; they had become… dependents on each other.

Dependence is the most dangerous blade, handed to the one behind you by your own hand. — “Ansu Fable Companions Conclusion”

To expose oneself is foolish, to depend on others is shameful, and to have companions is to enter a countdown to betrayal. If it were another time, another place, Igor might have been willing to risk getting to know these companions, but they were Death row inmates met in prison – would you dare to keep companions picked from the trash can?

Igor wouldn’t dare, and he knew Harvey and Ashe wouldn’t dare either.

Since they couldn’t become companions, yet were forced into an unspoken alliance of companionship, they could only become enemies.

This was the way of the Blood Moon people in treating others – others were always just that, others, never one of their own.

As long as you betray others first, you won’t be betrayed; such is the selfish Rule.

So when Igor saw Ashe draw the small knife without hesitation, he felt no surprise. Unexpectedly, Ashe didn’t move towards Harvey but turned to look at him instead.

A thought flashed through Igor’s mind, and he instantly grasped Ashe’s intention—he wanted to force Igor to exhaust his wishes, and then deal with Harvey. By doing so, the Con Artist would lose his leverage over the former Cult Leader.

It’s just like you… like the detestable enemy who has suppressed me from the beginning to the end…

You truly are the Cult Leader who brings misfortune to others, and I am just one of your many victims.

All of this was within Igor’s expectations; he did not feel anger.

But for some reason, he felt a slight sense of loss.

Ashe crouched in front of him, lifted his chin, and pressed the dagger against his dust-covered face. Looking at Ashe, a new thought suddenly emerged in Igor’s mind—since he was going to die anyway, instead of using his wishes to protect his last shred of dignity before death, why not drag Ashe down with him? Why not be buried together in the Virtual Realm and become phantoms of the past?

If I can’t survive, I need not be concerned with your life or death.

Or perhaps… use a wish to have you kill me, to end my suffering and facilitate your rebirth?

While Igor’s emotions were in turmoil, Ashe stopped and looked towards Eternal Calamity, asking, “Can you guarantee that you’ll let me go after I do this?”

“If you can truly prove your loyalty to the Four Pillars,” Eternal Calamity replied, “you will naturally receive the treatment you deserve.”

“You’re evading the question with empty words,” Ashe said. “Since that’s the case, let’s make it official. I brought a Miracle Contract paper; with the assurance of the Virtual Realm, I’ll believe you.”

Eternal Calamity looked at him with a strange smile, as a breeze seemed to stir around the Silver Throne, slightly lifting her skirt.

Snap!

Suddenly, a loud noise rang out as the chains of the hovering disk above Ashe’s head broke. Although Ashe immediately threw the dagger at Eternal Calamity, he was struck hard on the back by the falling disk, convulsing on the ground in pain like a curled shrimp.

The dagger was deflected by an invisible force, narrowly missing Eternal Calamity’s round, cherubic cheek by a hair’s breadth.

A mechanical arm tucked the dagger back into her skirt, and she signaled the Black Robe Man to tie up Ashe with a Miracle, saying leisurely, “As I thought, my judgment was correct. You are neither a Follower of the Four Pillars nor an apocalypse observer.”

“You are just Ashe Heath.”

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