Sorcerer’s Handbook

As soon as the fight began, Ashe felt an overwhelming discomfort.

It wasn’t because the Blood Seed inside him was continuously draining his life energy to his opponent, nor was it because Silver Lantern’s combat prowess far surpassed his own.

In fact, after a day of Trial rewards, Ashe’s physical abilities had rapidly improved. Even though he still couldn’t match Silver Lantern’s silver dragon blood physique, the gap wasn’t so wide that he would be completely dominated.

What troubled him was that Silver Lantern possessed the same level of ‘senses’ as he did.

The Honey Sword and the Chain Glove clashed, producing a sharp, grating sound. In that instant, Ashe keenly sensed Silver Lantern’s follow-up move, but she, too, anticipated all the variations of his strike. Their predictions led them directly to the final step, and once again, their blades met!

After several exchanges, neither of them bore any injuries, but the fatigue in their eyes was unmistakable. I predict your prediction, and you predict mine. When both sides instinctively make the optimal decisions, the battle turns into a tedious and exhausting charade.

As if struck by a mutual understanding, they locked eyes and abruptly plunged into the most perilous close-quarters combat! Since both had predictive abilities, they dragged the fight into a life-and-death quagmire, using the mire of fear to disrupt each other’s judgment!

When it came to risking it all, they both had unwavering confidence!

But this time, Ashe didn’t abandon his sword. With his right hand extended, he angled the blade for a diagonal thrust. Vesser slapped with her left hand, and Ashe used the force to pivot his wrist, his long sword tracing an ellipse as it cut toward Vesser’s throat in a delayed yet precise motion.

Though there was no spirit to assist him, Ashe had recalled the Sword Princess’s combat style from over a dozen battles and extracted the essence of this miracle, barely managing to execute a defensive counter with mortal swordsmanship!

As a Truth sorcerer, Vesser naturally recognized the brilliance of this move. If she delved deeper into studying this swordsmanship, she might even be able to summon the Moonlit Water spirit… Yet, the more talented Ashe proved to be, the more her killing intent surged!

Snap!

She sent the long sword flying into the air, and within two seconds, they exchanged over a dozen attacks and defenses. Although Vesser had integrated various techniques from the Senlo cult, Ashe had the foundation of a Golden-level Fist-Claw Sect. Sure, he had nearly been reduced to tears the night before, but would the same moves work on him a second time?

Of course they would.

Vesser wasn’t some lazy Lala Fatty. If Ashe could make such significant progress in today’s Trial, couldn’t she also innovate and refine her skills?

Even without spirits or spellforce, she was still a Truth sorcerer!

The long sword, flung into the air, began its descent. Ashe swiftly grabbed the hilt, shifting to a reverse grip and slashing horizontally. Vesser had no choice but to retreat to avoid the strike. Yet, Ashe pressed forward, closing the distance once more. How could Vesser allow him to expand his advantage? Her chain-wrapped hand snaked toward the sword blade, attempting to wrest the weapon from his grasp.

To Vesser’s surprise, Ashe not only abandoned the sword but actively shoved it into her hand. Then, with both hands, he launched a fierce assault, his strikes as powerful as a tiger’s pounce.

Vesser, possessing the swordsmanship of a silver-level practitioner, immediately swung the sword in retaliation. However, Ashe deflected her attacks bare-handed, forcing her to abandon the sword and focus on defense. Seizing the opportunity, Ashe reclaimed the sword and with two swift slashes, cut through her clothing. Had Vesser not dodged in time, she might have suffered a critical injury.

How utterly infuriating!

Vesser had already discerned Ashe’s strategy: he had seamlessly blended his golden-level Swordsmanship with his golden-level Fist-Claw Sect techniques. This fusion not only amplified the lethality of his swordplay but also incorporated the agility of his fist and claw strikes. His movements were as chaotic and unpredictable as a circus act-one moment his fists struck like thunder, the next his blade sliced through the air! Moreover, Ashe’s long sword was no hindrance to his close combat prowess; he could toss it into the air or shove it into her hands without breaking his rhythm.

In other words, Ashe was leveraging his spellcasting realm to dominate her!

But mastery in the spellcasting realm only allowed Ashe to excel in specific disciplines; it didn’t mean he could casually fuse different sects. Even Vesser, a Truth sorcerer proficient in over twenty spellcasting sects, found this feat nearly impossible.

And Ashe? He had always been the mascot hiding behind the Sword Princess and the Witch in the Virtual Realm. How could he suddenly possess such combat genius? Vesser knew he wasn’t the type to conceal his strength. On the contrary, he was the kind who’d eagerly announce, “I’ve gotten stronger, come praise me!” Therefore, this newfound prowess could only be the result of the past two days of Trials.

Was it possible that being thrown into a Trial where no one could hear his cries for help had led to such tremendous growth?

While Vesser was reeling from shock, Ashe was feeling more and more exhilarated, as if he were floating on air.

As far back as that rainy night in Nabistin, when he had single-handedly fought dozens of Sanctuary-level opponents, Ashe had sensed that he was rapidly assimilating the spellcasting experience shared by the Witch and the Sword Princess over the past days. However, after the title of First Gospel was reclaimed by Lise, Ashe lost his cheat code and naturally hit a bottleneck.

Forced into this Trial, Ashe felt the bottleneck loosening as his physical abilities and senses improved. Now, on this solo date with Silver Lantern, facing an opponent whose combat skills were no less formidable than his own, Ashe unleashed everything he had. The more he fought, the more confident he became, and finally, he achieved the seamless fusion of Swordsmanship and Fist-Claw techniques!

However-

Whoosh!

As Vesser deftly snatched the long sword and slashed back, Ashe tilted his head to dodge, but a streak of blood still marked his cheek.

Even though he immediately reclaimed the sword, he couldn’t leverage his superior skill to widen the gap further.

The scales of battle had balanced once again.

Because Vesser had already incorporated all his combat techniques into her predictions.

That’s right, Ashe’s skills were superior to Vesser’s, but was the gap between their realms wide enough to be overwhelming? No.

Unless Ashe could, like Tamashi, unleash a shockwave with his bare hands and shatter brain tissue from a distance, he and Vesser were still fighting at the level of mortals.

Even if Vesser’s technique was slightly inferior, as long as their attack power was roughly the same, she could naturally block Ashe’s moves and even trade injuries with him.

Not only that, but as time went on, both sides gradually memorized each other’s fighting styles to the point of perfection. Their predictive abilities deepened further, to the extent that they were essentially reciting each other’s moves.

When Ashe’s gaze shifted downward, Vesser could see the trajectory of his next several dozen sword strikes. When Vesser changed her stance, Ashe knew exactly what fighting style she would switch to.

They weren’t fighting; they were replaying the future they had already foreseen.

“How far can your eyes see?” Vesser asked calmly, as if unaffected by the storm of their battle.

“I see your death,” Ashe replied without hesitation.

“I see myself achieving my desires, realizing my ideals, and reaching eternity. The world changes because of me, fate diverges at my presence, and though history may not record me, I will become history,” Vesser said. “What do you see? Marrying a few wives? Having a few children?”

“Why are you using the word ‘few’…” Ashe gradually adapted to the rhythm of conversation during their deadly clash. “At most, I see myself growing old with the one I love.”

“How pitiful. You don’t even dare to chase immortality?”

“Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? But priorities differ. If I can hold onto happiness and still have the strength, I’ll naturally pursue those distant, extravagant dreams.”

“Happiness within a life shrouded by aging and death is nothing but a dream phantom,” Vesser said. “A fleeting delusion.”

“But aren’t you the same?” Ashe countered. “You’re so desperate to chase your dreams, scheming tirelessly, willing to pay any price-isn’t it because you’re also terrified of the unpredictable twists of fate?”

The personality of the Senlo people is deeply intertwined with this wasteland. Or rather, the people of every Kingdom bear the indelible mark of their homeland.

Just as the people of the Blood Moon inevitably gravitate toward self-destruction, the Senlo people, shaped by their environment of endless night, the Choking Green, the wasteland of Doomsday, and the rampant Green Calamity, have witnessed too many sudden deaths. This has instilled in them a deep understanding of the phrase “time waits for no one.” Coupled with the possibility of becoming a Demi-God after death, nearly everyone is eager to burn themselves out in pursuit of their ideals, knowing that even in death, they can continue to exist in another form.

To resist the threat of the Choking Green, the Senlo people must cultivate an intensely passionate sense of self. The faith in Demi-Gods serves as both a shortcut to developing this self and a vessel to contain it.

Once this vessel is lost, most souls wither away in emptiness until they find a new one. A rare few, like those of Raven Annihilation, Silver Lantern, and the founders of various cults, possess selves so vast that they can illuminate the night, burning until they themselves become new Demi-Gods, receiving the worship and devotion of others.

“But death is not an end for me; it is a rebirth. It is not a conclusion but a deadline,” Vesser said, her voice unwavering even as the sword blade nearly grazed her throat. “Death has never spared you, but I have never spared death. That is the difference between us.”

Are you trying to rattle me with words to create an opening? Ashe thought, responding bluntly, “So what? I don’t care. I just want to live an ordinary, peaceful life. Do you need me to praise you for your grand ambitions?”

“But is that what your companions want as well?” Vesser countered, her reverse-gripped sword now at Ashe’s throat. Her fox mask concealed her face, but her piercing eyes locked onto his. “Does the mental sorcerer want a peaceful life? Does the necromancer aspire to be ordinary?”

Ashe deflected the blade and struck back. “Of course they don’t.”

“Then why do they choose to follow you? Do you know why?”

“Obviously because of my extraordinary charisma.”

“Exactly.”

Ashe was momentarily stunned, and that split second of hesitation nearly cost him his life. He thought to himself, How shameless of Silver Lantern to suddenly throw in a compliment while berating me, throwing me off balance… This is psychological warfare!

“It is indeed because of your charm,” Vesser said coldly. “Because you are hollow enough.”

“Your companions-are they not all insatiable, fiercely ambitious individuals who cannot accept mediocrity? If you weren’t there, do you think they could coexist peacefully and form bonds?”

Ashe’s mind immediately flashed to his former companions: Annan, Banjeet, Lise, Igor, Harvey, Langna, Ronald, Tamashi… and the Sword Princess and the Witch.

Though he was reluctant to boast about his own importance-doing so would seem far too arrogant-he couldn’t help but wonder: Could Igor and Harvey really come together and coexist peacefully? If not for this series of events, Harvey would have likely found some desolate burial ground to squat in for decades until he became the Ghost King, while Igor would have been well on his way to his path as the Rust Crow.

As for Tamashi… Ashe could easily guess that if he didn’t return to Nightfall and reunite with the others soon, Tamashi’s status in Igor’s eyes would quickly drop from “teammate” to “artifact,” or even “disposable artifact.”

Annan was an even heavier case. Igor might let it slide, but Harvey surely still harbored thoughts of revenge against her. If not for Ashe, and if Harvey could return to the Gospel Kingdom, he would never let go of the Purple Moth who once dominated him.

The relationship between Annan and Lise was even more absurd. Annan wanted to overthrow the Gospel, while Lise was the First Gospel.

As for the Sword Princess and the Witch, although they got along well, Ashe couldn’t help but ask himself: If it were just the two of them, could they really have formed the bond they have now? The Sword Princess initially despised newcomers, and the Witch had often fallen into bouts of madness over the messiness of her hair…

“You’ve realized your importance, haven’t you?” Vesser said. “But why is it that someone as empty and without ideals like you becomes the key figure connecting everyone else? Why would those filled with passion and ambition be willing to be your companions?”

“It’s precisely because their desires are too intense, their dreams too grand, that they need you so much. You’re an empty vase, a hollow socket. They can’t become companions with each other-those with the same intensity only burn one another. But only someone as empty and ordinary as you can contain their immense egos and give them peace.”

Snap!

Ashe finally left an opening, and Vesser’s hand blade slashed past, cutting a bloody gash into his left shoulder!

“You’re not their companion at all,” the voice behind the fox mask was venomous. “What they see in you is themselves.”

“What you think is a bond of companionship is nothing but a one-sided delusion.”