The Sorcerer's Handbook-Chapter 18: Iger, The Beautiful Beast

"The new cult leader is going to challenge the Beautiful Beast in a Death Match!"

"The Beautiful Beast isn't even letting a single Contribution Point slip?"

"Did the cult leader already fall into his trap?"

"Oh ho, then it won't be just one point. The Beautiful Beast might be taking fifty this time..."

Hearing the chatter from the stands, Ashe tightened the bandages around his fists and forced a smile. "Looks like you really have been pretending to be weak."

Iger was fair-skinned, blond, and had blue eyes. He smiled. "I actually think you're the one hiding your strength to lure me in. You're the Four Pillars cult leader who went against the Bloodrage Hunters, while I'm just an ordinary fraudster. No matter how you look at it, you should be stronger than me in combat."

Before agreeing to the duel, Ashe had already asked Ronna about Iger's criminal record.

Almost every inmate had their history practically announced the moment they arrived, so everyone's crimes and identities were public knowledge. For instance, everyone now knew that Ashe was a fledgling cult leader taken down by the Bloodrage Hunters.

Iger Perskin, also known as the Fraudster, had once worked in the insurance industry and was imprisoned for scamming multiple wealthy clients out of substantial sums. He was a sorcerer specializing in mind manipulation, capable of using techniques such as Contract, among others.

The prison technically prohibited spellcasting, but the restrictions applied only to direct casting, rather than a complete ban. On the surface, Iger appeared to have no real combat power, but sorcerers like him could trigger effects through manipulative words, subtle implication, body language, and so on. For example, when he casually invited Ashe to team up, the instant Ashe agreed, the spell would have silently etched itself into his mind.

Ding!

The lights around the Death Match Club dimmed again, leaving only the light screen above the arena, drawing every spectator's attention.

[Iger Perskin: 46 Contribution Points Wagered VS Ashe Heath: 1 Contribution Point Wagered]

According to the rules, everyone had to bet the minimum possible amount. That meant Iger had already fought forty-five matches, and based on what Ronna said, he had won every single one of them!

The reason Ashe had agreed to this duel was simply that he had done so unintentionally. When Iger jokingly asked if Ashe wanted a Death Match, Ashe had responded with a playful "Sure, why not?" In that moment, he had already walked straight into the trap, and there was no way to back out of that "joke" now.

It was a strange feeling. His body hadn't been controlled, but his thoughts had been rewritten. It was as if someone had implanted a ridiculous belief, such as water being poisonous, into his mind, and Ashe felt completely certain he must fight Iger. The thought of refusing never even occurred to him. The very idea was locked away, as though his ability to think had been temporarily suspended.

The Swordswoman leaned lazily against the railing. "That's why you shouldn't casually respond to anyone. You're the Watcher of Doomsday. As I see it, you should reject everyone's goodwill and malice alike. Say no to everything, seize everything with your own power, define the world with your will, and rule like a Demon King—"

"No!"

"You damned—"

Before she could finish, transparent barriers rose around the arena, signaling the start of the Death Match.

Ashe heard a chime in his mind, and at the same time felt restrictions within him lift. The chip in the back of his neck no longer prevented him from attacking others.

Iger lunged forward with the speed and power of a hunting leopard.

Ashe quickly raised his arms to block and dodge to the side, but Iger anticipated the move. With a sliding kick, he knocked Ashe off balance and sent him stumbling to the floor.

Ashe rolled up to his feet, but couldn't avoid Iger's follow-up. A heavy punch slammed into his abdomen, forcing a groan as bile surged up his throat.

Iger said mockingly, "Clench your teeth."

He followed with another punch to Ashe's temple.

Dizzy from the blow, Ashe staggered back and leaned against the wall, with arms guarding his vital spots. Yet Iger attacked as if he already knew exactly where Ashe planned to block. Every jab and hook landed in the gaps of his defense. Within moments, Ashe's face was bruised and swollen. He stumbled across the arena, taking hit after hit while struggling to escape.

He screamed inwardly. Has the experience transfer not started yet? At this rate, I'm going to be beaten to death! It hurts! Swordswoman, hurry and possess me! Beat the crap out of this blond bastard! Swordswoman, mom, save me! 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The Death Maniac Swordswoman answered lazily, "Almost. The more you get beaten, the faster the experience transfers. And stop just taking hits. Try fighting back."

"Will fighting back make it faster?"

"No. But it will make this duel more entertaining. Watching you get beaten one-sidedly is honestly boring."

Despite her harsh words, she was a little surprised deep down.

She had expected Ashe to be pummeled like a rubber ball. After all, this was the Shattered Lake Prison. Walking into a death duel here was like a lamb strolling into a pack of wolves. If he came out unscathed, that would have been the real anomaly.

She thought Ashe would break, beg for mercy, cry, and collapse in humiliation. But even in such a terrible state, he fought as best he could. He pressed against the walls to minimize openings, kept his arms guarding the vital triangle of his face, and sprang back to his feet whenever he fell instead of lying there waiting to be pinned.

Most surprisingly, he didn't cry.

For someone who had just transmigrated and had been living a sheltered life, his willpower was astonishing. He even demonstrated a surprising level of mental self-control.

He kept talking to the Swordswoman in his mind, using conversation to distract himself from the pain. Yet he never lost focus. On the contrary, his defensive movements sharpened, and his reactions while being hit became faster and more precise. He was like a sponge, learning and adapting as he fought.

A sudden thought flashed through the Swordswoman's mind. Even without me, even without the Sorcerer's Handbook, once Ashe gets past the initial shock of transmigration, he'll adapt to this beautiful yet brutal world. Deep down, he's never been weak. Once placed in a different environment, his true nature will show. As expected... he truly is the Watcher of Doomsday.

Crack!

Pain seared through Ashe's arm. The Swordswoman urged him from above to fight back. At the same time, Ashe's rage flared with each blow he took. Even a clay idol had its limits, and Ashe was not the type to simply endure.

At work, he had his own methods. He never argued with his boss, but among peers, he refused to suffer any losses. He knew how to flatter, claim credit loudly when needed, and navigate office politics skillfully. Thanks to this, he thrived in his career, which was why his boss had assigned him as lead operations manager for a new game project.

Now, he seized the moment. Recalling the military-style boxing he had learned during college training, he planted himself in a horse stance and threw a forward punch.

Iger tilted his head effortlessly, smiling with contempt. "Soft. Cute."

Then a clean punch landed squarely on Ashe's face.

"You! You! You! You!"

Ashe couldn't even curse before another blow struck him.

None of his punches landed, while Iger's fists never missed. Ashe couldn't avoid a single strike, but Iger only needed the slightest twist to dodge every attack.

It wasn't a fight; it was a performance. Ashe was practically offering his face for Iger's fists.

"There it is again. The Beautiful Beast's trick."

"That cult leader's remaining forty-nine points are probably about to end up in his pocket."

"Hmph, flashy mind tricks. If it were me—"

"What about you?"

"If it were me, he'd be kneeling, checking whether I was still breathing!"

"We might not beat the Beautiful Beast, but Tiger can definitely handle him!"

Tiger waved his hands. "No, no. The younger generation keeps getting stronger. Sooner or later, an old man like me will just be a stepping stone..."

Everyone cursed inwardly. Old man, could you at least remove your hands from the railing before saying that? The metal's already twisted like dough in your grip.

One of the inmates glanced at Ronna, who was cuddled in a strong man's arms. "Ronna, can you see through the Beautiful Beast's trick?"

Ronna smiled. "No idea. I'd have to fight him myself to know. I don't want to fight him. He's not my type. Don't worry, sweetheart, as long as you're still breathing, I won't see anyone else."

The burly man he leaned against broke into a cold sweat and forced a stiff smile in the dim light.

Inside the arena, Iger flicked the blood from his knuckles and spoke casually, "Do you know why I won all forty-five of my previous Death Matches? I have no exceptional strengths, and I’m not particularly fast. Yet you can't land a single hit, while I hit you every time."

Ashe had noticed by now. Iger's physical constitution was similar to his own. Compared to monsters like Diamond Tiger or even a typical muscular inmate, Iger could easily be overpowered. On the surface, they seemed evenly matched, yet the only thing Ashe ever felt was the impact of Iger's blows to his face.

If Iger were just technically skilled, that might explain it. But Ashe knew his skills weren't impressive either. Otherwise, he wouldn't have lasted this long.

We're both rookies... So why am I the only one getting pecked to death?

Iger's voice remained calm. "I've beaten beastmen and trolls, all of which were far stronger than I am. All of them collapsed in this arena, transferring their Contribution Points to me. There's only one reason why you and all of them ended up like beaten strays. You are all livestock, and your lives have never been your own.

"The moment you stepped into this arena, your neck slipped into the collar I prepared. Until I squeeze every last Contribution Point from you, you remain livestock under my control. And the fate of livestock is always the same: bleeding, skinning, and finally..."

Iger looked down at Ashe, lips curling into a cruel smile. "Cut neatly into delicious pieces by the owner."

"Let's continue, Ashe Heath. And don't think of surrendering. There's no surrender in a Death Match. Relax. I'm gentle with livestock. It will be over soon."

Ashe straightened up, rolled his neck, and spat blood. "I agree."

The Swordswoman, seated in the stands above, nodded lazily. "It's time to end this."