Sorcerer’s Handbook

“My dear paramour,” Sonya heard Ashe’s flamboyant laughter, “you remain unchanged, just like when you are in the cabin.”

“When you lie in the cabin, you suddenly become verbose, using reasons and excuses to mask your true intentions, shifting others’ focus with a plethora of words.”

“You say you want to kill us, if that’s a lie, then it means you definitely won’t kill us.”

“Why wouldn’t you kill us? The answer is obvious—’Secret Incarnation’ is too crucial to you, you simply cannot afford to lose it, so you resort to threats to make us submit.”

“That’s a bold assumption,” Danzel remarked. “But aren’t you afraid that I’ll be angered into throwing you out?”

Ashe turned to look at Sonya, who turned her head away, her fingers tensing slightly.

“Then throw us out,” Ashe said. “I hear that spiders bind their prey into yogurt before enjoying them. I’m quite curious about that kind of death. Interested in letting me try?”

The wind stopped, but the rain had not yet ceased. Suddenly, the surroundings became so quiet that only the sound of Deya pulling at the threads and the low hum of the Octo-eye Spider’s mouthparts slicing the air could be heard.

“Hmm.”

Snap! Ashe and his companion were slammed to the ground. Deya hurried over to help them up, and the three of them glared menacingly at Danzel, who stood near the fence. The terrifying Octo-eye Spider formed a backdrop that painted her with an imperial authority.

“I didn’t realize you were such a greedy man,” Danzel said, arms crossed. “To keep the ‘Secret Incarnation’, you not only gamble with your own life but even that of your…”

“Teammate,” Ashe interjected.

Danzel glanced at Sonya. “…aren’t you afraid of losing the bet?”

“All I know is that gambling might result in loss, but not gambling guarantees death,” Ashe said calmly. “If I hand over the ‘Secret Incarnation’, then you’ll definitely throw us out to feed the spiders.”

Danzel narrowed his eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

Though her words sounded almost coquettish, her flat tone suggested an underlying message of ‘I’m actually not bad enough’.

“You are a ghost driven mad by love, using slaughter to distort the definition of love and using corpses to build a cage of love,” Ashe declared, pausing deliberately between words. “As long as it serves your affection, no moral rules or principles can stand in your way.”

“Your current master…” Ashe continued, each word heavy with implication, “…is the Omniscient Weaver whom you once considered forbidden, right?”

Sonya had told Ashe a few days earlier that Demilo was likely from the Stars Kingdom. Combined with the titles like Star Hall, she strongly suspected that the owner of Star Hall was the guardian of the Stars Kingdom, the Stars Sovereign.

Ashe naturally didn’t doubt Sonya’s words, but he didn’t fully trust them either. After all, Sonya had her own narrative world, and it was normal for it to be connected to reality.

However, Danzel’s appearance unequivocally proved that the wandering heroic soul legions in the Time Continent were indeed the handiwork of the Divine Masters. Her mention of the “Incarnation of the Gospel of the Omniscient Weaver” indicated that she was an ancient sorcerer from the Gospel Kingdom a millennium ago, who might have even accomplished great deeds. Ashe might even have encountered the descendants of her bloodline.

Danzel didn’t respond but tapped her finger lightly on the wooden railing. Immediately, the entourage outside the fence began to stir.

“You’re someone who’s accustomed to eradicating problems at the root,” Ashe said. “We know too much, and even for the Omniscient Weaver, you can’t possibly let us go easily. The ‘Secret Incarnation’ is our only amulet. Once you take it back, it’s like removing the last concern, allowing you to freely turn us into Sorcerer Projections in the Virtual Realm.”

Danzel remained silent, but the Octo-eye Spider behind her quieted down.

“The Static Domain is approaching,” Ashe glanced at the sky where the massive foot of the White Bull was no longer visible. A gloomy cold light began to dominate the horizon, slowly squeezing out the Golden Rain. “Didn’t you say you prefer clever people? At this moment, a clever person would make only one decision.”

“What decision?” Danzel finally spoke. “Surely not to let you go?”

“Let us go, and we will eventually return to this area,” Ashe said calmly. “Then, you will have another chance to seize the ‘Secret Incarnation’ from us. If you kill us, then you… would be letting your lover down.”

The commander’s tapping finally stopped.

“Will you come back?”

“How could a Sorcerer not return to the Virtual Realm?”

“What if—”

“You just have to trust us,” Ashe said. “We can’t just stop coming to the Virtual Realm, and I don’t know where you might appear or how to avoid you.”

Sonya and Deya remained silent, merely bowing their heads to hide the gleam of triumph in their eyes from Danzel.

They certainly knew where the commander would be and how to avoid her pursuit!

Ashe’s map of the Virtual Realm had already shown that the route of the Chariot of the Bull was circular, reaching the same area every cycle. That meant when the Chariot of the Bull was about to reach the Spider Pavilion area, they could simply rest and do their own things that night. By not showing up for work in the Virtual Realm, they would naturally avoid Danzel’s pursuit.

However, Danzel shook her head: “I don’t trust you.”

Ashe’s expression hardened.

“I only trust contracts.”

Danzel snapped her fingers, and her appearance instantly shifted from a mysteriously alluring Assassin Specialist to a smartly dressed office woman, wearing a vest and a short skirt, high heels, and a pair of plain glasses—though she was a bit taller than usual.

Ashe was momentarily stunned. “Is this also… one of your troops from the Spider Pavilion?”

“No,” Danzel shook her head, her fingers pinching forward, suddenly pulling a contract out of thin air. “This is the ‘profession’ responsible for production.”

She didn’t seem inclined to explain further. With a flick of her finger, three contracts landed in front of Ashe and the others.

The contract was straightforward.

“Party A: Spider Pavilion Commander 001”

“Party B: (Pending arcane energy certification)”

“When the Chariot of the Bull enters the Spider Pavilion Area, Party B must remain in the Spider Pavilion Area for more than three hours.”

“If Party B possesses a ‘Soul Summoning’ spirit, they must not abandon the ‘Soul Summoning’ spirit.”

“If Party A encounters and captures Party B, Party B must willingly surrender the ‘Soul Summoning’ spirit.”

“Breach of contract penalties: For the first breach, Party A will confiscate one of Party B’s held spirits (‘Soul Summoning’ spirit prioritized); for the second breach, two spirits; for the third breach…; for the tenth breach, Party B will face death.”

“Effective date of the contract: From the moment of signing.”

“Sign it,” Danzel said with an uncompromising coldness. “Or be thrown out.”

“But think carefully, once you sign this contract, even if you hand over the ‘Soul Summoning’ spirit, it won’t end there. Either you will be hunted to death in the Virtual Realm, or you will be punished by the Virtual Realm after ten missed opportunities.”

Sonya shook her head. “What if we ascend to a higher level of the Virtual Realm? Wouldn’t that guarantee a breach? I won’t sign a contract that ultimately ensures death.”

Danzel’s expression remained unchanged. “That’s an oversight on my part. I’ll add it.”

Then, another clause appeared in the contract: “Should Party B enter a higher level of the Virtual Realm making it impossible to access the Time Continent, this contract becomes void.”

The three looked at each other, and Danzel raised her eyebrows. “Any other objections? I’ve already allowed you a permanent way to escape pursuit. You couldn’t possibly expect more, could you? Or do you think I would let you go without any conditions?”

After signing, Ashe and the others would have to show up for work at the Spider Pavilion on the designated days. Absence meant a docking of pay, and ten absences meant retirement—permanent retirement.

“Of course,” Ashe reviewed the contract. “However, there are no clauses that bind you, which seems rather improper.”

“How would you propose to bind me?” Danzel’s voice held no hint of anger, almost as if genuinely curious. “I can’t just let you go, and I certainly won’t be lenient the next time we meet.”

“Once I catch you, you must hand over the ‘Soul Summoning’ spirit, and then you’ll become a snack for my followers.”

“That’s the point,” Ashe said. “Without a contract, you won’t let us go; but even with one, you might not allow us to leave.”

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