The Sorcerer's Handbook-Chapter 36: Blood Sorcerer

Ever since arriving in this world, Ashe had heard the term Blood Moon Tribunal more times than he could count.

At first, he imagined it was some kind of execution show. Then he thought maybe it was a livestreamed execution show. Later, he pictured an interactive online game where a lucky viewer was randomly chosen to decide who should die.

Now, Ashe suspected it was something closer to an unrestricted combat variety show, broadcast live.

The healer said, "Yes. When death row inmates enter the Blood Moon Tribunal, the prison lifts all restraints on the prisoners. You can use mana to activate your spirits then."

She extended her hand, and a kind-looking, elderly grandmother spirit appeared on her palm. "As for making deals inside the Tribunal... well, theoretically, it's possible. But no one's ever succeeded. You know why, right? Surely you've seen it before?"

Ashe blurted, "I haven't watched it!"

"Don't try to fool me!" the healer practically roared. "I'm not naïve enough to believe such a childish lie!"

And with that, she refused to reveal anything further. Ashe's clumsy denial had offended her sense of dignity. Lying would be one thing, but trying to trick her with a story even a child wouldn't believe made her feel insulted.

Ashe felt wronged. He genuinely hadn't seen the Blood Moon Tribunal, yet everyone here assumed it was common knowledge and never bothered to explain.

Since intel was off the table, Ashe prepared to head for a meal, but the healer suddenly blocked his way.

"Why did you ask about that elf just now? Are you worried about him?"

"Saying I'm worried is too embarrassing. I'm... just a little concerned," Ashe scratched the tender new flesh on his shoulder. "After all, he's the first person I've ever killed. Isn't it said that murderers always revisit the scene? I guess that's what I'm feeling."

"Seriously? That guy was your first?"

"The way you phrase that... It's misleading."

"You're a death row inmate living in the Shattered Lake Prison's luxury suite! Ending a life should feel as natural as breathing. Torturing souls should be second nature to you."

"I'm not exactly virtuous, but I was definitely framed!"

"I'll believe the first half of that for now," the healer said.

She looked down at her spirit and appeared careful in choosing her words. "Fine, I'll accept that was your first kill. But then, why care if that elf lives or dies? Do you want him dead, or alive?"

"Both."

"Both?" The healer laughed. "You want him dead and alive?"

Ashe shrugged. "To be honest, the grudge I have against him isn't deep enough for me to wish him dead. Ideally, I'd just like to vent my frustration by smacking him with a soft, geoduck-shaped soft rod. And I still have questions for him, so I don't exactly hope that he dies.

"But if he really does die, I'd probably just sigh before bed and think about how life's like the sea, where only the strong‑willed reach the far shore. So even if he dies, it's not something I'd lose sleep over."

The healer replied, "I'm starting to believe this really was your first kill. That kind of talk won't win you any favors. Say you're soft‑hearted, and human‑rights groups will back you. Say you wipe out every threat, and the extremists will cheer. But this indecisive, sit‑on‑the‑fence attitude? Every group hates it."

"Sounds like the outside world isn't easy either," Ashe said with a sigh. "But there aren’t that many people in this world who are that extreme and decisive. Most people are indecisive like me, right?"

The healer paused, then shrugged. "Indecisive people exist, but you need the right assets to be indecisive. Good looks, for example."

She pulled out a photo album and flipped it open in front of Ashe. "Here. These are the trending handsome-face templates from the past five years. Want to pick one for your new face? I recommend face number one. It's extremely popular and makes you look about ninety percent like a top star right now. You'll love it—"

"You're the one who likes that face!"

"So what? You'd be the one benefiting from it, what's the problem?!"

"Who says so? It's not like I spend all day staring at my own face. Most of the time, I don't even see it. What good is being handsome if other people get to enjoy it while I'm the one dealing with their creepy stares? Why would I agree to something that stupid and self‑sacrificing?"

Ashe's reasoning was so sound that even the healer was convinced. Her crow mask drooped as she slumped in defeat." "Fine, you're right..."

"But," Ashe continued, softening the mood, "you're the only person who has brought me any warmth in this cold prison. You've listened to me, talked with me all this time. As a friend, I can make a small exception."

"What, we're friends now?"

"If you don't think we are, I'll leave."

"Fine, fine! So you're willing to let me operate on you?"

"Well... not exactly willing," Ashe said with an uncertain expression. "I've grown attached to my current face after seeing it for so many years..."

"So?"

"That'll cost extra."

The healer exhaled in relief. "No problem! When should we start the operation? Wait. There are a few techniques I'm not entirely familiar with yet. Give me the next couple of nights to review. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe. My spirits can prevent any flesh-and-bone collapse or other complications."

Ashe tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I... I trust you. I'll head out for now. Take your time to prepare. Don't rush."

Mana was the universal energy for sorcerers, and money was the universal energy for society. Ashe might not have seen a clear path to escape yet, but he still needed to find a way to earn some cash as a backup.

Needless to say, death row inmates were broke and lived off the kingdom. After some thought, Ashe concluded his only viable option was to trade on his face. However, it also came with a steep price. There was a significant risk he could ruin it, and Ashe hesitated for a moment.

It was no wonder the healers never revealed their names. It was likely so they could maintain anonymity for a clean escape. After honing their skills through countless 'medical accidents' in the prison, they could simply walk away while leaving the inmates with no one to complain to.

Ashe walked to the door, then suddenly stopped and glanced around the treatment room.

"By the way... I've been meaning to ask. Do your colleagues ever bully you?"

"Huh?"

"Every time I wake up, it's only you here. Where are the other healers?" Ashe guessed. "Do they give you the hardest tasks, then leave early?"

"No... but it's true that you're the hardest case."

"Really? If they're ostracizing you, you have to tell me."

The healer glanced at Ashe and let out a soft giggle.

"Why would I tell you?"

"Aren't we friends? Friends can at least gloat a little when the other's having a hard time."

"Go away, go away!"

Ashe waved as he headed for the door. "Alright, Doctor 222. See you next time. And thanks for the apples. They were delicious."

***

Silence settled over the treatment room once more. The healer’s workspace was completely separate from the death row area. She packed up her toolbox and pushed open the door leading to the public lounge, only to freeze at the sight of a group of healers in crow masks waiting outside.

She jumped, half-expecting them to come scolding or punishing her.

But as she looked closer, she realized one of them wasn't wearing a mask. Judging by his build and ID, it was the tall healer who often scolded her—No.176. His body resembled that of a blue-scaled fishman, but his eyes were entirely ruby-red and gleamed like gemstones.

No.176 wasn't just maskless. His hands were clasped behind his back in a reverse lock. Cleansing marks were visible on his face, and a dark green foaming necklace rested on his neck.

The healer's heart sank. She knew exactly what it was. It was the Miracle, Vein Foam.

The Blood Sorcerer's most common offense-type Miracle, Vein Foam, combined entrapment with lethal force and could be sustained over long durations. Anyone struck by it had all their veins linked to the foam. When the foam shattered, every vein ruptured simultaneously, causing instantaneous death from massive blood loss.

Even the weakest sorcerer could kill instantly with it. Vein Foam wasn't used lightly. It was a punishment reserved strictly for criminals.

"What did he do?" she asked.

"He spied on your treatment techniques, Miss," reported another healer, No.201, bowing deeply. Even through the voice-altering crow mask, respect seeped from his tone.

"Attempting to steal the intellectual property of the Blood Tears Research Institute without permission violates the constitutional principle of sacred inviolability of individual and collective property. This is undeniably a crime," he added.