The Sorcerer's Handbook

Creak!

From behind the sheet of rain came the shrill, grating screech of steel bones grinding against one another. It was a sound so harsh it made their teeth ache, as if the listeners' own spines were being wrenched out of shape.

The sports car had already retreated as far as it could. Just ten meters behind them flowed the ceaseless River of Flowing Gold. Crossing it was out of the question. The crushing weight of time would instantly collapse their souls. Time was the most terrifying monster of all. It was omnipresent and restless, chewing through all living things and devouring entire civilizations.

The Virtual World Map had narrowed down to just three colors. Right where Ashe and his companions stood was a green safe zone, closely bordered by the golden zone representing the River of Flowing Gold. The remaining territory was smeared with the blood-red colors of the Legion of Heroes, all of them marked Certain Death.

The Empress Hero had promised them time for pleasure, but she had never promised them space. Her legion pressed in from all sides, leaving Ashe with absolutely no room to maneuver. Just ten meters away beyond the curtain of rain, the grotesque, nightmarish army stood ready for its feast.

And yet, they lingered just outside the upward torrent, their figures completely obscured by the Ascending Golden Rain. Ashe and the others could hear only the rustling, the gnashing of teeth, and the scraping of claws. The invisible anticipation was far worse than a direct charge. It provoked their imaginations into a dazzling rebellion, eager to overthrow the rule of reason and welcome the descent of a bloodthirsty nightmare.

While imagination rebelled, the instinct to survive schemed within them like treacherous courtiers in a palace. Fed endlessly by that thin curtain of gold, the survival instinct swelled. It overthrew the guards of dignity, crushed the minister of courage, and dragged reason down from the throne, forcing it to kneel and surrender. This profound, suffocating terror was born from the fear of life and death.

This was no game. The Empress Hero would absolutely unleash her forces to swarm them, tearing them apart bite by bite until only a thin layer of soul remained to escape back to their physical bodies. But just as a body could not survive on a mere hundred milliliters of blood, a few fragmented shards of a soul could not reboot the operating system of consciousness.

Even without offending the local denizens as they had, many sorcerers still died in the Virtual World. It was no place of charity, nor was it a lenient patron. It was a cold filter, selecting melodies that could adapt to the environment and destroying discordant noise that did not belong to the era. It mattered little whether that noise was an outdated aria or premature rock.

The Incarnation of Secrets was a power far beyond what they could handle at their current level. Such a glaring anomaly naturally drew countless enemies. While there might not have been a thousand, at least a hundred armed units had already surrounded them.

Ashe's thoughts drifted. So that's why academy-trained sorcerers thrive. Adventurers can die anywhere, at any time. The academy style simply trades time for safety, allowing them to advance step by step and climb higher into the Virtual World.

Smack!

A glob of pure malice splattered against the Refractive Barrier. The murky green vapor was so foul its stench nearly melted their souls with every breath. The sorcerers tensed in fright, while the Empress Hero only giggled. "Sorry about that. My spider had an itchy throat and accidentally spat. I didn't disturb you, did I?"

Ashe snapped, "You did! We were just getting into the mood, and now it's completely ruined. How could you!?"

"Oh? Then how about I offer myself as compensation?"

Ashe's heart stirred, but the Swordswoman cut in before he could answer. "We only accept group activities. No solo affairs allowed."

"Oh? Times truly have changed. Sorcerers nowadays are far more open than in my era," Denzel's voice purred with teasing amusement. "What a pity... you are all so lively, so beautiful, and so delicious..."

Sonya responded coldly, "Hearing your own eulogy while you're still alive is quite the experience."

She then turned to Ashe and lowered her voice. "Don't even think about going over there to take the Empress hostage. You don't have enough lives to survive the attempt."

Dia blinked. "Huh? So you held back just now because you were planning to assassinate the commander? I thought—"

Ashe interrupted righteously, "What else could it have been!?"

He glanced at Dia's hair, noting that its color was beginning to dull, and felt a heavy weight settle in his chest.

Sonya added, "The last time we gained the upper hand against the Empress, it wasn't because we were stronger. The Amnesia Cabin gave us an edge. This time, she came prepared. Every flaw she shows is just bait. We have no opening to exploit."

Dia's voice wavered. "Then what do we do?"

Her voice hadn't split into its overlapping double tone yet, but her demeanor had changed completely. Her lips curled into a mocking sneer. "Do we just wait here to die? You two might be fine with accepting that ending, but I have someone waiting for me in the real world."

Sonya ignored Dia's sudden hostility, her resolve remaining firm. "We fight our way out. The Refractive Barrier is still holding, and the vehicle can still clear a path with its Evil Blades. We've still got some fight left in us! The Empress has been preparing here for days. Any scheme we try to pull now is just a bubble she can pop at will. Our only choice is to shatter this predicament with brute force. We use everything we have, and we carve out a bloody path!"

She remained entirely calm, showing no trace of anger. However, her right hand had already tightened around the hilt of her sword, and the crimson in her eyes deepened into a dark, abyssal hue.

The Witch's hair grew duller and dirtier, yet her eyes shone with an ever-brighter light. Across her pure, adorable face bloomed a vivid, almost intoxicating madness. She even threw an arm around the Swordswoman's shoulders and laughed. "Haha! I like this plan. As scheming as you usually are, I didn't expect you to be so cute when things get critical."

Ashe grumbled inwardly, What part of this reckless, charge-in-headfirst plan is supposed to be cute?

Nevertheless, the operators' mental state still made him breathe a quiet sigh of relief. What he feared most was the Swordswoman and the Witch losing their reason and judgment under the terror of death. He was already exhausting himself just suppressing the rebellious thoughts and desperate survival instincts screaming in his own mind. If he had to carry one or two more psychological burdens on top of that, he would break.

No matter how beautiful the Swordswoman was or how adorable the Witch seemed, if they dragged him down at a moment like this and succumbed to negative emotions, he would lower his trust in them.

Nothing wore a person down more than incompetent teammates, especially at the most critical juncture. What a Virtual World team needed was not mascots or decorative figures, but comrades they could trust with their lives.

However, the Swordswoman and the Witch were not burdens at all. If anything, Ashe felt like the dead weight. Faced with a life-and-death crisis, they outrivaled each other in bravery, as if ready to cleave open the gates of life and death with a single strike, and tear destiny apart with their bare hands. Fear, regret, despair, cowardice, all those negative emotions twisted and surged within them, transforming into the most decisive killing intent. Standing beside them, Ashe felt as though he commanded an army.

Still, Ashe pushed the two of them back into their seats. "Wait. Let me see if there's another way."

Ashe called out loudly toward the rain. "Darling! I have a gift for you!"

Dia, Sonya, and Denzel spoke at the same time. "What gift?"

Ashe pressed down on the operators' heads to keep them steady and shouted, "My Conjuring spirit. Do you like it?"

"It's so-so. Not particularly impressive," Denzel replied, sounding incredibly picky. "But since it's from you, I'll reluctantly accept it."

Ashe spread his hands. "Since you've accepted it, could you show some mercy and let us go? There's no deep grudge between us. Why not pretend none of this ever happened? You fight your wars, and we'll explore the Virtual World."

Denzel chuckled. "What are you saying, my dear little darling? If you don't die, how am I supposed to take back the Conjuring spirit? Don't tell me you've forgotten. Once you abandon a spirit in the Virtual World, it disappears immediately. Only spirits that drop upon a sorcerer's death can stay around for a short time, and that's because they still carry the original owner's soul imprint. That is the only window for others to capture them."

"But the contract said that if you captured me, I'd have to hand over the Conjuring spirit voluntarily..." Ashe frowned, genuinely confused. If it was impossible to hand over without dying, why include that clause?

"That clause really only means that once I capture you, you'll obediently kill yourself without resisting." Denzel's tone was light, almost sing-song cheerful. "Every clause hides a trap beneath its surface. You accepted every single one without requesting to change anything. I had to try so hard not to laugh back then. You really are sweet, my dear."

Faced with her mockery, Ashe showed no anger. He spoke calmly, "But you still have your concerns. If all you needed was to capture me so I'd kill myself and hand over the Conjuring spirit, you wouldn't waste so much time and effort talking to me. You would have rushed in already and torn me apart."

The laughter beyond the curtain of rain slowly faded.

"You've surrounded me with an army, mocked me, pressured me, threatened me with your legions, and toyed with me with your words. Even I feel tired just watching you put on this performance. If you want to eat me, you could just come over and peel me apart. Why go through all this trouble? Do you think all this effort will somehow improve the quality of my flesh? You're trying to wear down my will to resist for one reason only, which is to make me completely lose my judgment.

"If I'm not mistaken, once we break down and lose our minds, you'll offer us a very generous deal. Something like 'as long as I willingly die by your hand, you'll spare my companions.' And you won't completely kill me either. You'll only take the Conjuring spirit from my soul... right?"