The Sorcerer's Handbook

Iger steadied himself against the wall, pulled a bandage from his robes to wrap his hand, and stepped directly into the hovering car, completely ignoring Ashe.

Suddenly remembering something, Ashe glanced toward the nearby Black Knight. "That person..."

"That officer is already dead," Iger said, glancing sideways at the slightly trembling Dia. "The body is still alive, but its soul has long since departed. That's the judgment of a Mind Class sorcerer. Believe it or not, it's your choice."

Ashe had no choice but to believe it. Because the Black Knight was blessed to absorb all damage, Ashe couldn't have landed a finishing strike even if he wanted to. He lowered his gaze to Dia. "You're not expecting me to carry you into the car, are you?"

Dia looked up. "Is that not allowed?"

Ashe didn't answer; he simply glanced down at his right hand.

Dia followed his gaze and froze in horror, instinctively leaping backward. She wanted to reach out but dared not. Ashe's right hand was practically shredded. Bone protruded through torn flesh, and the hilt of the Honeyed Tongue Sword was embedded straight into his palm.

To buy as much time as possible for Bidirectional Rush to take effect, and to prevent losing his grip under extreme inertia, Ashe had deliberately braced the sword against his palm. But in doing so, the force of the fall had torn through his right arm, buying him perhaps a fraction of a second more in midair.

Whether that 0.1 second made a difference or not, Ashe knew his hand was ruined.

The sword itself was completely intact and was not even bent. Ashe felt as if his hand had acted like a protective screen, shattering completely while the layer it protected remained pristine. Thankfully, he had cast Sword of Joy in advance, or he would have fainted from the agony.

"You're going to need six hours of continuous treatment for that hand," Pankey said, jumping down from the hovering car. "I'll give you an emergency ice treatment for now so you can still move."

There was truth to the old saying that an elder in the house was a treasure. As a sixty-year-old Two-Winged Sorcerer, Pankey could always find a suitable solution for any situation, and Ashe nodded gratefully.

The butler maintained a blank expression, but he was careful and gentle with his movements, hinting at a silent forgiveness for Ashe's reckless solo stunt. Seeing how badly Ashe was injured, Pankey simply couldn't hold onto his anger.

Dia didn't disturb Ashe's treatment. She took a seat in the back of the hovering car and asked Iger, "Do you have a mirror?"

Iger glanced at her coldly, retrieved a hand mirror from his robes, and immediately turned his gaze back to the night sky outside. He was stingy enough not to offer her another look or a single word.

Dia didn't mind. She looked down, focusing on her reflection. "Lys, before we switch, I want to tell you, and everyone, a story."

"Hmm? Now?"

"Long, long ago, there was an innocent and lovely princess who lived in a tall tower. From birth, she had never stepped into the outside world. Everyone told her the outside was full of danger and that living in the tower was safest. Knights were sworn to protect her, but the princess still longed to see the world beyond.

"One night, the princess heard a strange noise outside. She looked out the window and saw a Bronze Dragon coming to take her away. Trapped in the tower, she had nowhere to escape. Yet, she felt a thrill. Finally, the dragon had given her a reason to leave. So, she jumped.

"Whether the dragon would take her or the knights would catch her, she would finally leave.

"But in the middle of her fall, the princess suddenly realized that the Bronze Dragon was just a figment of her imagination, and the knights below were merely guards sent by the witch. But she had already jumped."

Little Witch listened, captivated. However, White Queen and the others felt a sudden chill.

In Dia's original fairy tales, there was never a Bronze Dragon. The princess simply jumped, the knights caught her, and they escaped together toward a bright new adventure. The old story had a cheerful, uplifting tone. This new version, however, leaned heavily into realism. It was darker, heavier, and far more cynical.

Dia continued, "But... That night, a thief happened to sneak into the witch's palace. He thought there might be treasure in the tower, but instead, he saw the princess falling. He jumped too, catching her in midair and swinging her out of the palace using threads of sky, snatching the witch's most precious treasure along the way.

"The princess observed him quietly. Compared to the mighty Bronze Dragon, the armored guards, and the terrifying witch, the thief was far too weak. But in her heart, this thief was her true knight, someone she was willing to wander the world with.

"Alright, that's the story. What do you think?"

The long-suffering Black Butler finally couldn't hold back. "Wait a second. We were the ones who sent Dia to deceive and bind Ashe. We were the ones in control! Or... am I misunderstanding something? In this story, is the princess actually Ashe, and are we the thief?"

White Queen laughed. "Dia is already using Time Class sorcery to rewrite the chronicles, just to polish her own shining image."

Lys blinked in astonishment. "Huh? So in Dia's story, Daddy is the thief, and Dia is the princess? Does that mean Dia likes Daddy!?"

Red Death Apostle spoke calmly. "Dia, Ashe just saved us. Don't repay kindness with resentment."

Dia smiled. "Good. It seems everyone likes this new version of the fairy tale. Thank you all for your support. I'll work hard to write the next chapter."

"She's gone completely mad," Black Butler muttered.

"She's no longer listening to anything we say," White Queen added.

Red Death Apostle sighed. "But Dia, in Ashe's eyes, it's Lys he cares about, not you."

"Exactly!" Lys chimed in. "Daddy likes me. He saved me! Dia, don't steal Daddy from me!"

Dia waved her hand lightly. "Sisters, how can this be called stealing? It's sharing."

The group was stunned into silence, but Dia quickly clarified. "I'm joking. Little Witch will still be Lys. I'm not taking that role from her. Lys is still just a little girl, so me stepping in doesn't change anything. But once the Bronze Dragon trials are over and we revert to Lysdia..."

"Do we have to call you Mom then?" Black Butler asked flatly.

Lys groaned. "I don't want a stepmom right now..."

Dia laughed softly. "You're thinking too far ahead. Let's put the titles aside for now. The point is, when we revert to our original form, I want to be Lysdia. As for who gets to be the Witch in the Virtual World, whoever wants it can take it."

Red Death Apostle muttered, "Just putting it aside, huh..."

Black Butler snorted. "You've got all of us as sisters. Why are you so hung up on some guy? If you're lonely, just summon more sisters. Why obsess over him?"

"Black, you're not thinking of becoming Lysdia yourself, are you?" Dia countered.

Black Butler snapped. "Nonsense! Absolutely not! I think you've just developed a habit of getting spanked!"

"Good, you'd better not," Dia snorted, then turned to the others. "And White Queen, Sister Red, neither of you want to be her either, right?"

"Of course not," White Queen said.

"Not in the slightest," Red Death Apostle confirmed.

Dia nodded, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Then swear it, all of you. Sisters don't lie to each other."

White Queen pouted. "Dia, you don't trust me? My pride is wounded."

"I nearly sacrificed myself for you, and you still want me to swear?" Red Death Apostle added, exasperated.

Black Butler shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

By now, even Lys realized something was amiss. "Daddy, my daddy... my sisters are stealing you away from me, wah... Dia, give me my body back!"

Dia chided smoothly, "A bit rebellious today, aren't we? Daring to give orders to your big sister... For that, you'll be logging in later than usual."

Dia looked up as Ashe held his frozen right hand in the air while pushing the door open. Without a second thought, she opened her arms and wrapped them tightly around his waist.

Ashe hurriedly lifted his arm, which was as stiff and cold as a popsicle. "Go hug Aunt Perskin! I'm completely covered in injuries right now, and my right hand is frozen solid. Aren't you cold?"

"No," she murmured, leaning into him. "I'm warm."

Once, Dia had envied the Swordswoman. She had envied that she was the first to join the team, envied her effortless closeness with the Watcher, envied their playful banter, and craved the attention she received. Even when the Swordswoman tried to hide her affection and the Watcher carefully managed the team's dynamics, Dia had often felt like the odd one out among the three of them. But now, that envy had vanished.

Just as the Swordswoman had the Watcher by her side, the Witch finally had a knight of her own to protect her.