Sorcerer’s Handbook

“You’re just Ashe Heath.”

Why does that name feel like it’s turned into a curse?

Name: Ashe Heath. Gender: Ashe Heath. Crimes: Ashe Heath?

Ashe lay bound and disheveled on the ground, his back pain flooding in like the tide, so intense he could only whimper and moan, without the slightest intention to rebut the words of Eternal Calamity.

The Necromancer beside him said with sympathy, “So it was true, Ashe, when you said you were wronged. And here I thought it was your signature dry humor. Back then I even thought the Leader of the Four Pillars Cult had a sense of humor.”

“I think he’s simply foolish.” Igor commented coldly, “Still can’t see the situation for what it is, even when your life is in their hands, and you still dare to haggle. Would a lumberjack be wary of a tree just because the axe handle is made of wood?”

“You can only try to ingratiate yourself, to become their axe, yet you act like a cockroach trying to jump on a face, as if they should be grateful not to squash you on the spot. Love it or leave it; they don’t lack for laborers like you. Even the little brats in the Nursery know to bow their heads and take the job at a time like this, but you’re the only one asking about salary, benefits, and contracts…”

Harvey had intended to argue on Ashe’s behalf, but noticing that Ashe was just sorrowfully glaring at Igor, muttering profanities that only he could hear, Harvey wisely kept silent. Ashe was hurt and needed a distraction; Igor’s taunting was perfectly timed to stir up his emotions, making him forget the pain in his body.

However, Harvey felt that Igor’s berating was oddly off the mark—knowing that if Ashe had really followed through with Eternal Calamity’s demand, it would now be him and Igor who were wailing. Why did Igor still speak with a tone of frustrated mockery, as if he wished Ashe to survive stepping over their corpses?

“Let me go, Mom, Dad—”

“Wah, wah, waaaah! I want my Mommy, Mommy!”

The shrill and noisy voices of children filled the hall, with both Harvey and Igor showing expressions of disgust. It wasn’t the Four Pillars Cult’s treatment of the children that they despised, but rather the children’s clamor—the Blood Moon people had very low tolerance for the whining of young ones.

However, after listening for a while, Igor asked in a low voice, “Why are they all shouting for mommy and daddy? Are mommy and daddy heroes here?”

Ashe couldn’t help but feel a bit amused at the sight of Harvey and Igor, who seemed as illiterate as one could be, asking such a question.

Although it was also his first time hearing the parental titles of this Kingdom, Ashe knew from the tone who they were calling for. After all, parental titles are usually made up of the most common syllables.

“Yes, as long as you call out that phrase, mommy and daddy will give their all for you.”

Harvey became serious, “We’re not from this Kingdom, would mommy and daddy protect us too?”

Ashe wanted to continue teasing them, but for some reason, he suddenly felt dispirited and did not answer. The crying children were brought around them, also bound by Miracle chains, their cries piercing the air, some sobbing quietly, others wailing loudly. Each one was a delicately carved young child, not taller than a wheel, almost the same size as Eternal Calamity on the Silver Throne.

“Do young children have value as sacrifices…?” Igor asked softly.

“In the Four Pillars Cult, children symbolize ‘purity.’ Only those who have not yet been tainted by society can harbor pure evil, pure goodness, pure hatred, pure joy, like flawless gems,” Ashe recalled Heath’s criminal record, his face also turning pale: “They’re not the best sacrifices, but they are the easiest to find.”

“Hey, look at that girl,” Harvey suddenly said.

Ashe looked over and saw a very cute and delicate white-haired little girl, thinking to himself that Harvey was finally showing a bit of normalcy, albeit still quite perverse, but at least his attention was on something alive.

But he quickly understood what Harvey meant—the little white-haired girl was too calm.

She wasn’t crying, nor was she petrified with fear; instead, she was calmly observing her surroundings. Noticing the gaze of the three notorious villains, she blinked her eyes and suddenly put on a pitifully adorable expression that aroused a protective instinct in onlookers, as though she was hoping for a hero to rescue her from danger.

“Drama Queen,” Igor commented disdainfully. Harvey and Ashe were somewhat let down—they had thought this little girl had some trump card, which was why she was so composed. They hadn’t expected her only tactic to be acting cute.

As they spoke, the Black Robe Cultist made way for a large open area in the center, and the hovering disk above them suddenly roared, releasing four rivers of flame that spiraled into concentric circles around the group of Sacrifices. The blazing rings of fire isolated them from the outside world.

Ancient and bizarre chants echoed in the underground hall:

“Countless glories, countless incarnations, countless possibilities…”

“Messenger of snowstorms, the clear azure, suppressing the strange…”

“Everlasting heat, eternal life, forever wandering…”

“Dream of freedom…”

“Let this be our sincere prayer, in the hope that the Four Pillars, in their holy mercy, shall bestow their scrutiny.”

After the Followers finished their prayers, the sweet and naive voice of Eternal Calamity slowly resounded: “The Sacrifices indicated by the Oracle have been assembled.”

“In the name of Selina Bright, we offer to the Four Pillars the Sacrifices within the ring of fire—three People from the Exotic Lands, sixteen pure souls!”

It was over.

Igor sighed inwardly; he hadn’t expected to survive escaping from prison, evade the pursuit of the Sin Hunter’s Hall, only to die in a Cult sacrifice to the Four Pillars.

Rounded up, it was almost like dying at the hands of Ashe.

If only I hadn’t struck up a conversation with that newcomer in prison… If only I hadn’t seen him as prey…

Suddenly, Igor laughed, extinguishing the flicker of regret that had surfaced in his heart—compared to rotting away in Shattered Lake Prison, he preferred to play a part in the grand spectacle of the Blood Moon Tribunal and the glorious prison escape, and then to die.

He owed his thanks to Ashe Heath; it was he who had freed him from the tedium of prison life and set him on this brilliant path to death.

It is said that after evildoers die, their Souls must pass through six hells, enduring torment before they can rest in the Virtual Realm. All the spiteful spirits harmed by the evildoers await this perfect opportunity for revenge, eager to repay the calamities they suffered tenfold, a hundredfold, to the wicked.

Dear Cult Leader, with your great ‘achievements,’ there must be many looking forward to ‘playing games’ with you in hell. But no worries, I’m a bad guy too, and I’ll be there to back you up against them.

Igor turned to look at Ashe, but saw no fear on the face of the Cult Leader. It seemed he had something to rely on; trembling, he straightened his back, lifted his head proudly, and called out loudly to the heavens:

“In the name of Ashe Heath, I offer to the Four Pillars the Sacrifices outside the ring of fire—all the Cultists in the underground hall!”

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