The Sorcerer's Handbook

Boom!

The 58th floor collapsed in an instant. The deafening roar of grinding steel and cascading rubble swallowed Iger's warning completely, burying his voice somewhere beneath the ruins of the 57th floor.

Even with chaos erupting all around him, Ashe's gaze remained locked onto the shifting heap of debris, his focus absolute.

Suddenly, he felt a frantic tug on his sleeve. Looking down, he met Lys's conflicted expression, her wide eyes brimming with fresh tears.

"Don't... don't go," Lys whispered, her voice trembling. "You can't win..."

"Hey, all you need to say right now is, Thank you, Daddy," he replied softly, reaching out to wipe her tears. Of course, his calloused hand only succeeded in smearing dirt across her cheeks, making her look like a frantic little calico kitten. "Besides, there's no escaping now. If I don't step up, will you?"

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he dropped to one knee, gently ruffling the hair at the back of her head. "Don't worry. I'm first in the Art Rankings, remember? Annan hasn't even drawn me yet."

At his words, a wave of profound warmth and joy swept through Secret Princess, instantly dispelling the shadows in her heart and halting her tears. A tingling sensation spread rapidly across her skin. Looking down, she watched in awe as her wounds began to knit themselves closed.

Miracle, Singular Devotion, Sword of Joy!

"And besides, I've got a secret weapon."

A secret weapon?

Dia blinked. Just as she was about to ask, a sudden warmth on her cheek drew her gaze back up, locking her in Ashe's gentle, tender eyes. Her soul felt as though it might melt under his gaze, leaving her completely mesmerized.

The sisters within the mirror had seen that look before from both Pankey and the Swordswoman, but never had it been directed at them. For a fleeting instant, it wasn't just Secret Princess who felt it; White Queen, Black Butler, and even the self-sacrificing Red Death Apostle all felt a sudden, sharp pang of envy toward their youngest sister.

What they didn't realize was that the moment Ashe turned back toward the rubble, the burning affection in his eyes crystallized into raw power.

Miracle, Singular Devotion, Sword of Love.

As the enhancement activated, Ashe didn't feel a sudden, overwhelming surge of physical strength. Instead, his grip on his hilt grew perfectly steady, his movements became fluid and fast, and all distractions vanished from his mind. It felt as though he had returned to his final year of high school, consumed by a single, unwavering goal: victory. He had to survive this, and he had to get Lys and Iger out alive.

Miracle, Sword Painting!

Miracle, Sword of Rage!

The moment the Secret Guard burst free from the rubble entirely unscathed, Ashe unleashed a devastating triple strike. He streaked forward like a volley of dark-red meteors, plunging straight toward the Black Knight.

Clang!

A transparent barrier formed of a Miracle materialized, intercepting all three blades with absolute ease. The dark-red meteors ground to a halt a yard away. Unfazed, the Black Knight glanced at Ashe with an air of effortless composure.

Suddenly, a realization struck Dia. The secret weapon Ashe mentioned... it couldn't be...

Meanwhile, having survived the collapse by diving into a makeshift safe zone, Iger lay trapped beneath a fallen table. Straining every muscle in his body, he forced open his resonance cavity, trying to project his voice through the suffocating layers of rubble. "Ashe! Don't rely on that Demonic Coat! The Secret Guard can use Gospel Points to nullify mental interference!"

***

Demonic Coat and the Mask of Distortion. With both of them on, Ashe looked as though he had stepped straight out of his top-ranking masterpiece in the Art Rankings. His horrifying silhouette seared itself into the Secret Guard's pupils.

The crimson paint of his cloak bled outward, expanding into a boundless sea of blood. The collapsed corridor warped and twisted, resembling the grotesque interior of a monster's intestines. Light fractured into garish, chaotic colors, and then reality itself seemed to shatter, plummeting into an abyss.

For a moment, the Secret Guard found herself standing on a desolate shore, facing a black tsunami that towered dozens of meters high. Charging across the violent waves was a gargantuan vessel, crafted in the horrific likeness of a woven fingernail.

Ashe stood proudly at the prow, blowing a horn of war. The sky answered with the roar of thunderous serpents, the earth quaked in mourning, and the black sea howled in an ecstatic frenzy. The entire world was being swallowed by an unstoppable, cataclysmic annihilation.

"This is the mind probe of the Demonic Coat..."

The Secret Guard remained remarkably calm. I have reached Gold Rank mastery over my Mind Class sorcery. To think Ashe Heath's Mind Class prowess eclipses mine so completely that he pulled me into this illusion without effort... But this is as far as his trickery goes.

A black-and-silver Book of Gospel materialized before the Secret Guard. She raised a gauntleted hand and lightly tapped the cover of the sacred tome.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

At the gentle, harmonious chime of the Gospel, the overcast sky parted, giving way to an endless, brilliant blue. Sunlight poured down like a divine blessing, the shattered and trembling earth stabilized, and a sudden spring arrived in full, vibrant bloom, filling the landscape with flourishing green trees.

The ominous blare of the horn faded, replaced by the sacred melodies of the Gospel. The roaring tsunami calmed, the black sea purified into crystal-clear waters, and even Ashe's phantom fell to its knees in penitence, dissolving into a shimmering mist of atonement amid the divine, solemn light.

The Secret Guard was not surprised. As an enforcer for Empress Isa and a faithful servant of the Omniscient Weaver, she knew that under the protection of the great Gospel, nothing in this world could oppose her. All sins dissolved beneath its judgment; all harm was nullified by its grace. At this moment, she was the living embodiment of the Gospel's will... Wait...

Suddenly, the Secret Guard realized she had not actually escaped the illusion.

Ashe's illusion had been destroyed, yet the colossal, fingernail-shaped vessel he had commanded remained perfectly intact, suspended over the calm sea. On the deck of the vessel stood a slender figure.

As the ship sailed closer to the shore, the Secret Guard could no longer maintain her calm, indifferent posture. Even her armor began to tremble. When the hull finally ground against the sand, she forgot her oath of absolute secrecy. With a trembling voice, she gasped, "Your Majesty?"

Then, she violently shook her head and took a panicked step back. "No... you're not the Empress. Who... who exactly are you?"

"Of course, I'm not that old witch."

The Black Witch stepped off the vessel, her bare feet sinking into the soft sand. "As for who I am... can't you guess? Aren't you the very one who came looking for me?"

The Secret Guard clutched her Gospel tightly, as if desperately drawing authority from its presence. "But you can't be Princess Lysdia. She hasn't finished donning her armor to sanctify herself... She shouldn't be... Ah, I understand now. You're one of the spirits that brainwashed the Princess!"

"Brainwashed the Princess? Hehe..." the Black Witch let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Is that what the old witch told you, or are you just lying to yourself? Never mind, forget that wretched old woman. I've already been entirely frank with you, yet you won't even remove your helmet? My dear Aunt."

Instinctively, the Secret Guard reached up and touched her face. The black knight helmet that had concealed her features since adulthood, the mask she hadn't removed in over a decade, was gone. Bare sunlight fell directly onto her skin, and the wind brushed over her cheeks, eliciting a deeply alien, unfamiliar sensation. When you hid inside armor for more than ten years, you began to perceive sunlight as a searing tongue licking your skin, and the wind as a demon caressing your face.

The Black Witch and the Black Knight bore identical faces, despite being separated by generations, status, and rank.

"No wonder the old witch insisted you all wear helmets," the Black Witch said, gazing directly at the Secret Guard's matching features. Her tone was a bitter blend of mockery and profound pity. "Surrounding yourself with a group of people who look exactly like you... It's utterly disgusting."