The Sorcerer's Handbook-Chapter 57: Two-Winged Gold Sorcerer

In the Red Mist Bar.

Seeing the scar-faced prisoner lower his weapon, several customers groaned in frustration.

"Don't be afraid! Just kill Ashe already! How can you stand him acting so arrogantly?"

"Aren't you a serial killer yourself? How can you be persuaded so easily?"

"This batch of death row inmates is the most pathetic I've ever seen!"

They had all anticipated conflict among the condemned during the trial and had placed hefty bets on the Inmates Slaughter Each Other outcome. Now, with Ashe likely having swayed the scar-faced prisoner, their bets were headed for disaster.

"But this Ashe kid is kind of interesting. Can we watch him in a few more Blood Moon Tribunals?"

"I want to see his expression when he becomes the redeemed one. That's bound to be fun."

"Is it still possible to reserve his and the elf's full blood? I'm craving it."

"There's no shortage of Blood Saints in the prison. The real problem is that there's barely enough prisoner blood for them. No one's going to save it for you. Full blood? Maybe you could settle for some hemorrhoid blood instead."

While sipping his drink alone, Lawrence stared at Ashe on the screen and was struck by a memory from years ago. It was from when he was still a student at Caimon General University and had not yet undergone his Blood Exchange Ceremony. Someone had handed him a flyer in the cafeteria advertising a student mutual aid club focused on courage, wisdom, life, and joy. At the time, he was about to graduate and had paid it no attention.

Lawrence didn't know why that memory had resurfaced now. But when he looked at Ashe through the screen, a faint, almost imperceptible sense of familiarity crept over him.

Just as he reached to cast his vote, his hand trembled slightly.

***

Meanwhile, at the Blood Moon Tribunal venue.

We're the ones who should leave!?

The death row inmates felt a suffocating frustration staring at Ashe's smug face. It was like standing in line for an hour, only to have someone tap your shoulder and say, "You're in the wrong line. Go over there. I'll take your spot."

And the truth was, the path wasn't even feasible. The executioners were with them on the platform. The purging flames might have been nothing to Ashe and Varkas, but to the others, it was a torture that could melt brains.

Another gaunt man with a dagger said grimly. "Maybe there's a better plan. Once the voting ends, right before the executioners arrive, we seize the chance and kill the two of them. That way, the executioners won't be able to reach us."

"Exactly!"

"Subdue them first!"

"Grab them, sever their limbs, and dump them into the sea once voting ends!"

Ashe's heart sank. His current combat strength barely exceeded that of a normal person. He could handle a skirmish, but there was no way he could take on this group of ruthless, elite sorcerers with full access to their power.

From afar, Nagu shouted, "The prison cannot intervene during the trial, but I advise you not to commit suicide or murder. Killing under the Blood Moon will only worsen your sins. Repent now while you can. Do not harm Ashe Heath. Let him quietly await the trial in my boots..."

Nagu thought, Boots... my boots! Fight all you want, but don't touch the boots! Make sure no blood stains them during the chaos.

As Ashe trembled at the edge of the platform while the death row inmates advanced step by step, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

Clang!

A surge of sword energy erupted, and the next instant, a slash tore through the ground, leaving a three-foot-deep gash between Ashe and the others.

"You... want to capture me?"

While everyone's attention focused on Ashe, Varkas had silently landed on the platform, picked up a longsword, and, with a smooth swing, unleashed a sweeping wave of sword energy.

But the intimidation didn't faze the death row inmates. The dagger-wielding man licked his blade and sneered, "So what if you're a swordsman? There are six of us and only two of you. Besides, who here isn't a sorcerer anyway?"

Silver radiance flared as an ethereal wing of silver unfurled from the dagger-wielding man's back, sending raw mana surging in all directions.

The Silver Wing was the form sorcerers' mana took when released externally. It was the mysterious medium through which ordinary mortals could interact with the principles of the laws. Only seasoned travelers of wisdom, who had sailed thousands of miles across the Sea of Knowledge, could condense such a wing. As of now, Ashe couldn't even form a single feather.

The dagger-wielding man's wing wasn't particularly long, but from its size, it was easy to deduce he had traversed two to three thousand miles of the Sea of Knowledge. He had likely been a sorcerer for a considerable time.

The scale of Silver Wing didn't directly correspond to combat strength. Instead, the more complete the wing, the farther a sorcerer had sailed, the more legacies they had witnessed, the more mysterious islands they had encountered, and the more Knowledge Creatures they had slain.

At the very least, Ashe knew he couldn't defeat this man one-on-one.

The other death row inmates snorted and each revealed their own Silver Wing. In comparison, theirs were small. Even the ogre's wing was tiny and was barely the size of a chicken wing. Among them, the necromancer, Harvey, had the most complete wing. His wing was almost fully spread, which was a testament to a voyage of nearly ten thousand miles across the Sea of Knowledge. Noticing Ashe's astonished gaze, Harvey smiled warmly with eyes radiating genuine enthusiasm.

Ashe blinked. After spending the afternoon together, could Harvey have really seen me as a friend?

But then he remembered Harvey's same warm, friendly expression when he discussed handling corpses in the past. Ashe's face darkened. Damn it. Harvey hadn't handled fresh corpses for days in prison. He just wants a little hands-on practice this time. I'm done for.

Having spent only a few days in the Virtual World, Ashe had only a single Substitute spirit. He had no hope of contending with six Silver-Winged sorcerers. Even with Varkas, he stood no chance.

Clang!

Just then, a sound resembling the cry of a sword pierced the air, accompanied by brilliant silver-and-gold radiance which outshone the Silver Wings of the six death row inmates.

Varkas fully unfurled his wing. Each feather glowed like dancing fireflies. With each flap, he twisted the very laws of reality.

Compared to Varkas' perfect wing, Harvey's looked like expired goods pulled from a dusty storage room. Under the light of Varkas' flawless silver, Harvey's wing wilted and appeared pitiful and inadequate.

Varkas didn't stop there. A small segment of radiant, golden wing glimmered alongside his Silver Wing. He was a Two-Winged Gold sorcerer! He had completed his voyage through the Sea of Knowledge, broken its limits, summoned a Two-Winged spirit, and stepped onto the Continent of Time.

"So... do you still think the two of us can't take on the six of you?" Varkas taunted.

The dagger-wielding man forced a laugh that looked more bitter than tears. He tried to hide behind the others, only to find everyone had backed away. Resigned, he lowered his head. "Mr. Uhl... I was only joking earlier, please—"

"Not funny."

"Please forgive me..."

"Bow. Break your head on the ground, and I'll forgive you."

Without hesitation, the man smashed his head to the floor. Ashe winced. After three strikes, his forehead split open, and blood streamed down his face. He looked utterly pitiful. "Mr. Uhl, is this enough?"

"You look horrible, but the sincerity's there. You pass."

The man sighed in relief and stepped aside. He no longer dared speak harshly and had grown so submissive it was almost unbearable to watch.

Everyone understood the situation. Varkas was a Two-Winged sorcerer. Even if they attacked together, they stood no chance against him. Since only the dagger-wielding man had provoked Varkas, they saw no reason to risk their lives for a single cellmate. Selling him out was simply the safer choice.

The man knew it too. If Varkas wanted him dead, no one would intervene, and some might even cheer. Surrender was the only option.

Ashe hurried to Varkas' side, crossed his arms, and looked down at the cowardly inmates in a way that made it seem as if every line of his body was declaring, "Hmph. Look how powerful we are."

"That evens things out," Varkas said.

Ashe froze. "What?"

Varkas continued facing forward as he replied, "If not for you just now, I might still be standing on the steel wire."

"I did it for myself, not to help you," Ashe replied.

"Regardless, the debt is settled. Don't complain later."

"Later... what do you mean?" Ashe asked.

"What else?" Varkas sneered, flicking his sword. "Live like maggots, fly like flies, fight like dung beetles."

Ashe sensed something was off and opened the live broadcast channel.

[Current highest vote: Varkas Uhl, 244,623 votes.]