Sorcerer’s Handbook

"Valcas Uhl bets 37 contribution points"

"VS"

"Ashe Heath bets 2 contribution points"

It was very rare for a newcomer to participate in deathmatches two days in a row after just arriving at the 'shithole' (the affectionate name given to the prison by death row inmates), let alone for his opponent to be the 'noble' Valcas. Naturally this attracted countless onlookers.

Many people who weren't part of the Deathmatch Society came over to watch. The spectator stands were packed, with a large crowd even standing by the door.

"They're both using swords...a duel of swordsmanship? It's been a long time since I've seen a fight between swordsmen. The arena always smells deliciously of blood after a swordsmanship duel..."

"Human, kill that elf!"

"What kind of sword grip is that? He's never learned swordsmanship right? He must have been scared seeing the noble take out a sword and followed suit with a sword of his own!"

"If you don't know how to use a sword then don't use one! Wouldn't a spear be much easier and more intuitive?"

"An axe would be even better! One swing of an axe, no matter what weapon, everything turns to mush."

"You...what nonsense are you spewing! A spear is obviously more suitable for beginners!"

"I...I'm not spouting nonsense! An axe is the best weapon for newbies!"

Ashe had one more reason to escape: he would rather listen to others cursing than listen to two burly men who clearly had gruff voices, arguing in the delicate tone of tsundere girls - it was as jarring as winter melon tofu pudding.

"They're so noisy."

"That's how it is in the shithole, flies buzzing everywhere."

Valcas looked at the iron sword in his hand, flicking it lightly to elicit a clear, crisp ring.

"Maggots cannot become butterflies. Even if it's a real butterfly, in the shithole it's just a bigger fly."

Ashe laughed. "Seems like you have deep feelings about prison life. Interested in publishing a book?"

Valcas lightly brushed his fingers over the sword's blade, taking up a standard fencing stance.

"Ashe Heath, I'm sorry."

The instant the arena barriers rose up around them, Valcas became a blur, his longsword seeming to extend over ten meters as it pierced through the air in an instant!

Even though Ashe was being cautious, he still couldn't block with his sword in time. All he could do was barely dodge to the right, and a small piece of flesh on his shoulder was shaved off by Valcas' sword!

The intense pain made Ashe involuntarily gasp, but he had no time to catch his breath as Valcas was right upon him!

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Ashe did not flee, instead rushing headlong into Valcas' embrace to bring the fight to the most dangerous distance!

His rationality had not been drowned by the pain - Valcas was ten centimeters taller than him, with longer limbs. His reach and attack range were too great, Ashe had almost no chance to retaliate at close-mid range. The only way to turn Valcas' advantage into a disadvantage was to shorten the distance between them to extreme close range, preventing Valcas from swinging his sword.

"Have you never learned any swordsmanship?"

Ashe suddenly felt a chill run through his body. With his peripheral vision he saw Valcas turn his wrist, switching from a forehand to a backhand sword grip!

Clang!

Valcas' sword blocked Ashe's thrust. The elf swung his elbow sideways, using his height advantage to smash Ashe's forehead with his elbow!

Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!

The power of the elbow almost knocked Ashe unconscious. At this time, the arcane energy that had been dormant in his mind slowly stirred, releasing a cooling sensation that quickly restored Ashe's awareness. His body still maintained its combat instincts and decisively retreated!

When Ashe's vision cleared, what greeted him was a flash of cold light!

Boom!

Ashe rolled and crawled to his feet, not daring to let his back touch the ground. Looking at the wall shattered by Valcas' sword strike, his face was filled with lingering fear that soon turned into dread.

Their swords weren't sharpened!

The prison wasn't crazy enough to give sharpened blades to death row inmates to fight with!

It was already ridiculous that Valcas could cut off a piece of Ashe's shoulder blade with an unsharpened blade. Ashe chalked it up to Valcas' sword being fast enough that his shoulder flesh didn't have time to react.

But that was a stone wall!

Made of stone!

Stop! This wasn't swordsmanship!

It had gone far beyond the realm of swordsmanship!

"Spirit...spirit?"

"You look a little surprised?"

Valcas smiled.

"Isn't it only natural for mages to use spirits in battle?"

"But the prison hasn't lifted arcane energy restrictions—"

"Some things cannot be locked away. Even if you bind their hands and feet, they will still grow wings and take flight. The spirits born from knowledge that I have complete mastery over are still my power, still allowing my every mundane action to become a moment of miracle."

Ashe let out a deep breath. He could feel his clothes growing heavy, wet by the blood from his shoulder wound. He felt his strength trickling away strand by strand, and along with his blood leaving his body, so too did his vitality.

Unlike bare-knuckled boxing matches, deathmatches using cold steel swordsmanship did not have many flashy rounds of exchange. There was only life and death in a fleeting breath - the strong live, the weak die.

Yet for some reason, he felt refreshed. The arcane energy in his mind was even livelier, and his shoulder didn't hurt much anymore.

"Being hit in a vital area by such an attack, I probably couldn't be saved right?"

"I don't know. I've never gone all out against another in a deathmatch before."

"I'm the first?"

"And the last."

Boom!

With a light flick, Valcas caused the ground as tough as steel to crack and rupture, as if a giant serpent was charging at Ashe from beneath the surface!

"Elven swordsmanship miracle, sundering mountains and splitting earth!?"

"He actually used a miracle!"

"Impossible!"

An uproar rose from the spectator stands. The death row inmates had their faces practically plastered against the invisible barriers, desperate to see more of Valcas' movements.

Igor was no exception. He had seen Valcas' previous deathmatches and already expected he could use spirits.

But using spirits versus using miracles were two completely different concepts!

Every miracle required the combined coordination of multiple composite spirits to cast. But having multiple composite spirits didn't necessarily mean one could cast miracles, just like ordinary people and handsome men/beauties both have one mouth, one nose, two eyes - but the combined results are one having the face of an angel, the other also having the face of an angel, except its face hit the ground when it was born.

Miracles were extremely difficult to cast, so much so that 'casting miracles' itself was part of the miracle.

One had to know, those who could become mages already had outstanding natural endowments, or they could not possibly advance a technique to the 'arcane' stage and summon spirits.

Yet even these proud geniuses of heaven, for most their greatest wish was to master one or two miracles in their lifetime, which was also the average level for mages - below average mages might not even master a single miracle.

Miracles were so rare, their payoff and difficulty were naturally also positively correlated. Compared to the straightforward effects of spirits, miracles had more complex, grandiose, hard to dispel effects, and could even produce all kinds of inconceivable effects that transcended factional divisions.

For example, a swordsmage's miracle might have healing effects, a watermage's miracle could evaporate enemies, a gunmage's miracle would make enemies willingly catch bullets...

A saying was very popular among mages - 'Spirits are merely extensions of our skills, miracles are the true marvels!'

Igor had also grasped miracles. He completely mastered the few spirits needed for the miracles, theoretically he also had the qualifications to cast miracles.

But he had never succeeded in casting a miracle even once in prison!

Not even once!

If rousing spirits in prison was like picking your nose with your foot, difficult but doable with practice;

Then casting miracles in prison was like putting on makeup with your foot! And it had to look very good, otherwise it wouldn't count as a miracle!

Ashe was done for now.

As Igor watched the heaven and earth rending on the deathmatch arena, he felt sorry for Ashe.

Valcas clearly intended to kill. Under the crushing weight of the miracle, forget Ashe's corpse being intact, it would be difficult to even find all his minced meat in the rubble. The prison infirmary's doctors couldn't possibly treat such severe injuries. In the end Ashe's body would inevitably be handled by the cannibals.

This was the reality of the Blood Moon Kingdom - beneath the tablecloth of 'racial equality', 'rule of law', 'harmonious coexistence', the carnivores still obeyed the cruelest law of the jungle.

Once their interests were infringed upon, even hiding in Shattered Lake Prison, they would still be crushed underfoot by their superiors.

What a pity...he was quite an interesting man...

After the sounds of the arena's sundering rang for a good while, someone finally couldn't sit still.

"Why isn't he dead yet?"

"Even if the miracle's power was reduced to less than a tenth, it still shouldn't fail to kill such a weakling who can't even grip a sword right?"

That's right, why wasn't Ashe dead yet?

The death row inmates whose entire attention had been seized by the miracle now looked closely at Ashe.

The deathmatch ring was a complete mess. Faced with Valcas' miracle that rent the earth as easily as turning over a hand, Ashe dodged left and right like a rat, looking wretched and disheveled. Several times he narrowly avoided being crushed into meat paste.

Yet he escaped every time! Every time!

Although his movements looked disorganized and miserable, in the eyes of these death row inmates, they became more and more adept and decisive, without wasting the slightest bit of energy!

Even Ashe's sword grew increasingly steady, and could now block Valcas' slashes!

It was simply, simply just like...

"Just like yesterday's deathmatch against the beastman."

Someone murmured softly.

As the first victim, Igor naturally felt this very deeply. It was in battle that he watched Ashe grow stronger step by step before his eyes, his skill steadily improving. In just a few short minutes he transformed from a greenhouse flower who didn't even know how to roll to an animal full of combat instincts.

Yet now, a second victim had appeared.

This beast Ashe had actually, unbelievably, learned swordsmanship in the midst of battle!?

This was prison, not some genius training center, damn it!

But many also recalled Ashe's crime and connected his current genius performance to his background.

"The Four Pillars..."

In the dim spectator stands, Langna hugged her boyfriend's neck tightly as she stared fixedly at the two on the deathmatch ring, a bizarre light flashing through her pupils.