Mage Manual

Chapter 137: Chapter 125 Siflin in the Treatment Room

“You won’t be able to escape,” Ash hummed comfortably, openly admiring the labor of the medical practitioner as she busied herself in the treatment room, her body drenched in sweat and her hands stained with liquid.

“Don’t be so deterministic, maybe there will be a miracle?” he suggested.

“Miracles are created by oneself, not to be expected from reality’s pity,” Siflin responded calmly. “In the Kingdom of Blood Moon, any transportation, consumption, or even wandering, requires verification of the Miracle Chip. That you managed to completely remove the Miracle Chip from your body in prison is impressive indeed, but it also means you’ve forfeited your right to live in modern society. You won’t be able to enjoy any public facilities—your future is sleeping in cardboard boxes under bridges.”

“I can live in the wild,” he proposed.

“What about salt? A place to live? Can you find prey to hunt? Besides, although there are indeed vagrants who live in the wild, the Crime Hunting Hall simply can’t be bothered with them; but since you’ve caused such a commotion this time, they will certainly go to great lengths to pursue you.”

“But it’s still better than staying here and waiting to die.”

“The Blood Moon Judgement means you might die, but choosing to break out of prison means you definitely will die,” Siflin glanced at him and pressed down harder on his wound. “Now, even the Human Rights Association has no reason to protect you. The Crime Hunting Hall will issue a ‘Special Arrest Order’, allowing bloodthirsty hunters to kill you escapees on sight.”

Ash hummed, “At least I can choose how I die.”

“I hadn’t realized you were someone so intense,” she remarked.

Shaking her head, Siflin pulled a piece of tissue to wipe her hands, “Alright, that’s mostly stopped the bleeding. What were you humming over there?”

On the bed before Siflin lay an ogre with a severe belly injury. Its wound was nearly putrid, and only after Siflin had scraped away the rotten flesh and wrapped it in bandages did the ogre’s breathing stabilize, leaving it sprawled on the bed, unconscious.

“Thanks. We don’t have anyone who can heal the living where I come from,” Ash raised the ear spoon in his hand. “I was enjoying digging my ears just now and couldn’t help making a sound. Sorry about that.”

“Is digging your ears really that comfortable?”

“Maybe because I can sit while I do it. You know, the toilet doesn’t even have a chair, so there’s nowhere to sit but on a man’s lap.” Ash walked over to check on Fernand, “Is he okay now?”

“Ogres have strong regenerative powers; he’ll wake up in a few hours.” Siflin inquired, “How did he get injured?”

Ash seemed helpless as he responded to that question.

“Would you believe it if I said it’s just because he glanced at someone?”

Half an hour ago, Ash had taken Fernand to the hall to register in the Sinners’ Catalogue and was about to confine the mayor in his cell.

However, during the registration, Fernand glanced at Harvey, who was in charge of the Sinners’ Catalogue, Harvey suddenly erupted, his nails transforming into sharp, grey talons, and he stabbed them into the ogre’s abdomen like spears.

Although Ash finally managed to stop the enraged necromancer, he doubted that the ogre mayor would thank him upon waking.

In Shattered Lake Prison, a death in obliviousness was perhaps the most comfortable way to die.

The escape team knew about the grudge between Harvey and Fernand and didn’t mind letting Harvey have his revenge, but only after their departure—technically, only Shattered Lake’s ‘processor’ was supposed to detect Fernand’s vital signs, but what if?

For the same reason, after Ash used his Miracle Chip Purification to cleanse the chips of the five-member escape team and Harvey used the Book of Undead to control the ‘processor’ to place restrictions on all the prison guards, they didn’t kill anyone—not even causing harm, only restricting everyone’s movement.

—

It wasn’t that their morals were particularly noble; it was simply that they couldn’t afford the gamble. If the life signs of the Prison Guards after their death were transmitted to the “processor” in Kaimon City, startling the Crime Hunting Hall, then they could forget about escaping from prison, let alone leaving Shattered Lake.

However, none of them possessed a healing Technique Spirit. It was just that Harvey could stitch up wounds—after all, sewing up corpses could be considered a part of a Necromancer’s professional skill set.

But Ash dared not let Harvey help Fernand stop the bleeding, so he turned to a Medical Practitioner for aid.

Of course, in the process, Ash didn’t remove the restraints on the Medical Practitioner’s Magic Power but simply allowed the practitioner to use gauze and bandages to stop the bleeding. Although Medical Practitioners usually relied on Technique Spirits to cheat their way through, they were still capable of basic treatments.

“It seems your companions are not very reliable.”

“Of course, I’m the only normal person in the team.”

“That alone makes one worry about your journey to escape.”

“Isn’t that the truth, the whole team relies on me to lead them, but it’s still better than sitting here waiting for death—”

“Do you really think so?”

Ash looked at the crow mask in surprise; Siflin did not look away, staring straight at him.

“Do you truly believe that Shattered Lake Prison is a dead end for you? You’ve managed to think of a feasible escape plan, and in less than a month, you’ve established your standing in the prison… Even if, as you’ve said, someone outside the prison has framed you, do you really have no other path to take?”

“Compared to fleeing Shattered Lake Prison and opposing the entire Kingdom of Blood Moon, wouldn’t it be simpler and safer to find some loopholes and survive in Shattered Lake Prison?”

“If you were only trying to survive by any means necessary, you would never have chosen ‘escape,’ the most dangerous path. You are satisfying some desire, even betting your life as a stake.”

Ash was slightly taken aback.

Reflecting on his actions over the past half-month, he realized he had never once considered accepting legal punishment… No, that was wrong—it was bearing the false charges from Heath and spending the rest of his life in prison.

From the beginning, his thoughts were occupied with how to escape. Aurora’s Mage Manual, Sword Maiden, Igula… All of these were opportunities for his escape, but the idea of escaping seemed to be deeply rooted in his mind, never wavering for a moment.

Was he not aware that the chances of a successful prison break were incredibly slim, and that he would be risking death?

Did he not know that even if he succeeded in breaking out, he would be pursued relentlessly, with no peace to be found in the Kingdom of Blood Moon?

He could almost envision his fate: never enough to eat, no warm clothes, poor sleep, and every person he met would be an enemy—no place left for him in the Kingdom of Blood Moon.

Man cannot contend with the collective; man can only meld into it.

In fact, if one really just wanted to scrape by, there must be other ways, such as tapping into one’s own knowledge reserves to become a Plagiarist or something, to greatly increase one’s contribution, to showcase one’s value; or to diligently prepare a stand-up comedy script, turning the Blood Moon Judgement into a performance show.

There were many, many other ways, each one safer and even more likely to succeed than a prison break.

But why… From the beginning, why had he not had even a fleeting thought of ‘surrender’ or ‘compromise’?

—