The Sorcerer's Handbook

Inside the Deep Sea Flood Dragon Palace.

The tyrannical Sovereign Blade-Carp unleashed its final roar. Seven cracks spiderwebbed across the floor, each a fissure on the verge of rupture. If they weren't sealed, the ocean would surge in and drown the eight sorcerers still fighting within the chamber.

In this raid, players had to seal the holes using their own lives as the price. Yet, even if all seven were plugged, the trial wasn't over. The boss was already chanting its berserk Miracle. If they failed to kill the Sovereign-Blade Carp in time, it would overturn the palace, resulting in a total party wipe.

Carp-Slaying Sacrifice. This was the "berserk check" mechanic present in every Extreme and Fantasy Raid in Epic. It served as the ultimate test for any team. If the players failed this trial, every ounce of their effort would be rendered utterly meaningless.

Ashe hadn't expected the random pickup group he'd joined to be this competent. They had reached the berserk phase with a clear in sight. Along the way, their execution had been so flawless and precise that it almost inspired a sense of gratitude within him.

As the healer with the lowest damage output, Ashe was the natural choice for the first sacrifice. When the boss's Miracle locked his character into one of the fissures, forcing him to endure the crushing weight of ten thousand tons of seawater, his active role in the raid ended. The remaining damage was now in the hands of his teammates.

The Sovereign Blade-Carp had 12% health left. As long as Ashe stayed in the instance to maintain the mechanic and prevent a wipe, victory was guaranteed.

"Finally... with this clear on record, I'll qualify for the real Fantasy Raids..."

Just as Ashe planned his next move, a sickening jolt ran through his heart.

Thump!

A heavy pulse hammered through his ear canal and straight into his skull. The heartbeat peaked and detonated, shattering his consciousness into fragments that slowly coalesced into a piercing, high-pitched ringing.

The game pod detected his deteriorating vitals and forcefully ejected him. But light and fresh air did nothing to soothe his convulsing nerves. Ashe felt as if his spine had been ripped out. Vitality, willpower, and life itself drained away, leaving a hollow shell filled with nothing but agony.

Thump! Thump!

His heart dutifully pumped vitality through his veins, struggling to restart a poisoned system. His right brain hemisphere parsed the chaotic rhythm of his struggling organs, while the left mobilized his gray matter like a police force to suppress the rioting neural signals. Frontal and temporal lobes stood on the sidelines like desperate cheerleaders. Everything worked toward a single goal, which was to force his consciousness back into the pilot's seat.

Haa...

With a long, shuddering breath, his higher consciousness seized control. The neurons that had been misfiring moments ago now stilled in submission. With the loosened screws tightened, the system stabilized.

Ashe straightened up and glanced at the game pod's display. "Sigh. Leaving early triggered the berserk wipe. I'm going to get flamed on the forums for sure."

His tone was eerily remote, devoid of the emotion typically reserved for one's own misfortune. For the first time, Ashe had entered his Hyper-Focused state in the real world.

In the Virtual World, whenever he faced a terminal crisis, he would enter this state. During his high-speed duel against Commander Demilo, he had stayed in it almost the entire time. Every movement he executed was as precise as a surgeon's scalpel. In that state, Ashe separated the "I" from the "Self," observing everything from a detached, third-person perspective.

Because "I" stood apart from "Self," he no longer cared about pain, anger, or fear. He simply treated his own body as a chess piece to be used with maximum efficiency.

It matched his codename well. He called it Watcher Mode.

Frankly speaking, Watcher Mode felt wonderful. Ashe found himself wanting to stay in that state forever. If he could toggle it at will, he could execute every mechanic with frame-perfect precision. Fantasy Raids would be a joke, and even Extreme Raids would become a walk in the park.

Unfortunately, the state only arrived passively during moments of mortal danger, and its duration was entirely unpredictable. Once the threat passed, the taut "Watcher thread" in his mind would slacken, and his overclocked brain would drop back into a low-power state, just like now.

Ashe groaned. "Mm!"

The moment he exited Watcher Mode, a crushing emptiness slammed into him like a block of lead. He felt as if he were sinking into the actual deep sea, where every cell and organ in his body was being squeezed under immense pressure. The discomfort was so intense that he almost craved the sweet relief of fainting.

He struggled out of the pod, his cerebellum barely maintaining his balance. The world looked like a wet oil painting, every color dragging into heavy, distorted afterimages. The visual chaos pushed his stomach past its limit. He retched, vomiting up everything he had eaten that night.

The burning acid scorched his throat, but the pain stimulated his will. Ashe took several deep breaths until his operating system finally finished rebooting and reconnected his peripherals. He regained a baseline of mobility, but the virus continued to lag his every move. He suspected he was functioning at such a low level that he could barely outpace the slowest one percent of his peers in the Gospel.

The floor was quiet. Most people remained tucked away in their pods. Outside the window, the night sky was clear. Vanmura was peaceful tonight. Ashe scanned the room, looking for any suspicious figure who might have cursed him, but he found nothing.

He forced himself toward the front desk to seek help, only to find the receptionist slumped in her chair. Her eyes were hollow, her face a vacant mask. The lips that had once greeted Ashe with warmth had turned a sickly bluish-purple. If not for the faint tremble of her eyelashes and the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, Ashe might have thought she was ready to become one of Harvey's clients.

Ashe called out cautiously, "Miss Petillo?"

The receptionist struggled to focus her gaze on him, but even the effort of moving her eyes seemed to drain the last of her strength. She remained silent, the light in her eyes extinguished. She looked less like a person and more like a broken doll.

This wasn't the first time Ashe had seen someone in this state. On his first day in Vanmura, he had passed an entire carriage filled with people just like her. But the Senheiser Family District sat in the heart of the city, not on the outskirts where the white mist was known to thin.

The white mist?

Ashe turned toward the window. He rubbed his eyes, desperate to confirm that he was actually seeing a clear night sky. He rushed over and flung the casement open. A crisp, whistling wind surged in, brushing wildly against his face.

The moon hung high, surrounded by shimmering stars. From this vantage point in the second-tier district, the countless lights of Vanmura stretched out below him in perfect clarity. The air felt so clean it was almost sweet; the visibility was so sharp he felt the urge to grab an infrared scope just to peer at the distant skyline.

He murmured, "The white mist... It's gone?"

***

"I never expected to find myself on a mission in Vanmura. And I certainly never imagined the white mist here would one day just... vanish."

Several hovering vehicles sped through a chaotic intersection. Even with autonomous driving assistance, the terrifying city-wide paralysis had brought traffic to a grinding halt. All around, citizens lay collapsed like discarded dolls, as if a hidden switch had been flipped, forcing the entire population into a sudden, artificial sleep.

"Isn't this a bit overkill?" Inside one of the vehicles, a young Red Hat sighed as he lazily chewed his gum. "Paralyzing all of Vanmura just to catch a few targets?"

Cliose sniffed, her eyes rimmed with red. "Shut up, Light. We already have the advantage, so stop complaining. Finish the mission and get out. We'll give Vanmura back to them then."

The two speakers were among the top ten Red Hat captains in the kingdom, Weeping Sand Cliose and Deadshot Light.

Light was the Red Hat captain of Modora. Since Modora and Vanmura were the two first-tier cities adjacent to Azura, it was only natural that he joined the operation to capture Ashe. Cliose had been desperate to claim the credit alone, repeatedly insisting over internal comms that she was on the verge of a breakthrough to keep other captains away. But Light, being the closest, had refused to be sidelined, forcing Cliose to share the hunt.

Aside from the two Red Hat teams, two agencies accompanied them tonight.

The Good Moonlight Agency's involvement was a given. Their ability to hijack smart home systems was invaluable. But the second group was the true wildcard.

Light pulled up a holographic screen. "No one has intercepted us so far. It looks like Senheiser truly left the back door open. The remaining payment has been transferred. It's been a pleasure doing business."

A voice replied from the screen.

—The pleasure is ours. The Time Difference Agency strives to provide the most comprehensive concealment services in the kingdom. Feel free to commission us again. Since our task is complete, our staff will now withdraw."

Ranked first in Modora and tenth nationwide, the Time Difference Agency was the invisible backbone of tonight's operation. Their strategy centered on absolute deception, ensuring the Senheiser family was caught completely off guard.

In the Gospel Kingdom, uncovering such a scheme should have been easy. If the head of the Senheiser family had simply asked the Book of Gospel, "Will anything dangerous happen to the family today?" the raid would have collapsed before it began.

The Time Difference Agency's specialty was concealing intent. While the Book of Gospel faithfully recorded everything that had already happened, schemes that existed only as intent remained vulnerable to manipulation. The agency fed the Gospel false data by subtly altering the perceived timing of the plan, effectively convincing the system that a raid set for the 19th wouldn't happen until the 22nd.

Naturally, such a feat came at a staggering price. Whenever the Book of Gospel made an error, it would pay out compensation worth ten or even a hundred times the original points to the inquirer. But the Gospel did not suffer such losses lightly. Every mistake it made became a lesson; the difficulty of deceiving it a second time would nearly double.

The Time Difference Agency, once a titan firmly entrenched in the top five decades ago, had since slid to tenth place, marking a testament to the Gospel's rapid, ruthless evolution. Yet, before the agency was phased out entirely, its services ensured that somewhere, a group of people was about to suffer a devastating, unexpected blow.

Lifting her communicator, Cliose commanded, "Targets confirmed. Ashe Heath. Whoever bags him gets a 70–30 split of the credit. Seventy percent stays with me.

Next, Annan Dolan and Pankey Dolan. They don't have criminal records yet, but their association with Ashe is undeniable. In the upcoming Woven Festival, they're almost certain to emerge as criminals. Conveniently, the second ranking will be released tomorrow. We'll detain them for forty-eight hours under the pretext of assisting the investigation. If anything unexpected happens, we'll move to a formal arrest immediately."

A voice barked from the hovering vehicle, "That's not what we agreed on! Ashe goes to the Red Hats, but Annan belongs to the Agency!"

Cliose countered coolly, "If the second list comes out and Nabisstin hasn't issued a bounty for Annan or Pankey, I'll release them. After that, your agency can settle the dispute however you like."

The agency officer muttered a curse under his breath, but he lacked the spine to oppose a Red Hat.

As Cliose clicked off the communicator, Light, the Deadshot Red Hat, glanced at her. "You're trying to protect the Purple Moth?"

Cliose replied, "My target is Ashe Heath, not Annan."

"She has the potential to become a chaotic villain, the kind that could derail the Weaving Ceremony. If things go sideways—"

"Isn't that even better?" Cliose's lips curled into a sharp smile. "Capturing Ashe alone would make me the top-ranked Red Hat. Unfortunately, I have to share that glory with you, you bastard. But if another Ashe emerges? I'll be the number one Red Hat for the next fifty years!"

Light stared at her, incredulous. "Even with the world on the brink of ending, you're still obsessing over rankings?"

Cliose stiffened. "I am a Red Hat... of course I care about my rank."

Light fell silent, eventually waving a dismissive hand. "Forget I asked. But mark my words. Orotecting Annan won't be easy."

"She is still a lawful citizen," Cliose said. "Who would dare touch her?"

Light said flatly, "We already have someone who does, and that person is sitting in the car right behind us. Don't forget who dispersed the white mist that choked Vanmura for centuries. The Imperial Guard of Nabistin is a judicial disaster that even the Book of Gospel cannot restrain."

Cliose glanced into the rearview mirror. An armored figure sat in the trailing vehicle. It was a knight in matte-black plating that was sealed so tightly that not an inch of skin was visible. Even its eyes were lost behind a cold and narrow visor. The figure remained completely still, appearing as motionless as an ancient tombstone.

In an age where firearm-based sorcery dominated the battlefield, heavy plate armor had long been relegated to the scrap heap of history. No modern sorcerer would endure such a cumbersome weight unless they were bound by an iron devotion to tradition.

The Imperial Guards were that tradition made flesh. For centuries, they had served as the Isa Imperial Family's most loyal shields and sharpest blades. They moved through the Gospel Kingdom like dark sentinels; no one knew their names or even if they were truly human. They never ate, slept, or indulged in leisure. Many sorcerers whispered they were nothing more than animated suits of armor.

Yet, these walking armors wielded the highest authority of the Isa crown. They could mobilize imperial resources with a single word, including the power to banish the mist of Vanmura.

Neither the Agencies nor the Red Hats possessed the power to disperse the mist. Days ago, while Light and Cliose waited outside the city, the Imperial Guard had approached them with an offer that they would clear the fog and assist in Ashe Heath's capture.

To vanish the white mist of an entire city instantly, and without collateral damage, was no ordinary feat. It was a miracle granted only through the Book of Gospel.

And so it had been. Once the strike team was in place, the Imperial Guard invoked the Book, performed a series of operations, and the centuries-old mist simply evaporated. Cliose couldn't begin to fathom the cost in Gospel Points. A century of her own savings wouldn't have been enough, and even if she had the points, she would never have spent them so frivolously.

What a Sacred Realm sorcerer might not earn in a lifetime had been casually tossed away on "urban environmental improvement." Only the imperial family possessed such obscene wealth.

Cliose noted, "Honestly, the Imperial Guard did us a massive favor. They hadn't only paralyzed everyone in the city, but they did it at the perfect time. The Senheiser family leader is likely still trapped in a dream state. Without the white mist as a medium, she can't manifest her way back. For the next hour, we're dealing with a leaderless clan."

She continued, her eyes narrowing. "As payment for the Guard's help, we'll make as much noise as possible. We draw all of Vanmura's attention to us... and the Imperial Guard can complete their own mission in the shadows."