The Sorcerer's Handbook-Chapter 22: Invitation

At the cafeteria in the Shattered Lake Prison.

He looked up with an expression that seemed as if he'd just been betrayed. "Why do I still have to take part in the Blood Moon Tribunal in a few days after earning forty-five Contribution Points!? I thought those with higher Contribution Points go later in the trial sequence!?"

"That's true," Ronna said, sipping his milk. "But only after the prisoners attend their first Blood Moon Tribunal. Only a very few can skip it due to special pardons or similar reasons. After surviving the first trial, future trials will be scheduled according to Contribution Points."

"What if I die in my first Blood Moon Tribunal?"

"If that worries you, why not throw a fake match against me and hand over all your Contribution Points?"

Ashe shot back. "Not a chance!"

After a moment, he added, "Wait... I remember you said only one person dies in the Blood Moon Tribunal."

"Yes. Eight participants, and one death. That's a 12.5% chance, which is pretty low under normal circumstances."

"Can I be counted as part of those 'normal circumstances'?"

"Obviously not. As the leader of the Four Pillars Cult, you're anything but normal. You committed murder, kidnapping, imprisonment, and bloody rituals... at least a thousand civilians suffered because of you. You're notorious. Unless something unexpected happens, you'll likely be one of the main targets in the Blood Moon Tribunal."

Ashe seethed inwardly. So Heath causes the storm, and Ashe ends up drenched. Heath, you brainless idiot! Go drink six walnuts if you're that short on brain cells! Running a cult and doing things that made the entire world hate you... Even online loans aren't hated this much!

"Anyway, if you want, you can hand over your Contribution Points to me. I'll remember your sacrifice and live happily with my boyfriend..."

Ashe snorted. "Get lost! What if I survive? I'm not giving them up!"

Ronna acted like he didn't care about Ashe's ninety-five Contribution Points at all. "Fine. Someone wants to challenge you. Will you accept it?"

"Is that why you were waiting for me in the cafeteria?"

Ronna admitted, "Yes. As for why, just look at the number of Contribution Points the challenger wagered. Thirty-seven points."

Ashe narrowed his eyes. "Someone who's fought thirty-six Death Matches wants to challenge me? I'm only going to wager two points this time."

Ronna shrugged. "That's why I came to tell you personally. Generally, newcomers challenge veterans in Death Matches because they can risk a little to win big amount. Veterans challenging newcomers isn't impossible. After all, even a mosquito counts as meat. But it usually happens after about five matches. Anything lower than that won't catch the veterans' interest.

"So it surprises me that a veteran is actively challenging you. I wonder if you have a grudge with them."

"Who is it?"

"Varkas Uhl."

Ashe shook his head. "Never heard of him."

Of course, I've never heard of him! I don't even have Heath's memories! Even if Varkas had a past grudge with Heath, how could I possibly know?

"Syrin Dorr."

Ashe blinked. "Hm? Who?"

Ronna waved it off. "Nothing. The name just reminded me of an acquaintance."

"Will you accept Varkas' challenge?"

"What weapon does Varkas use?"

"Sword."

Ashe glanced to the side. There, the Swordswoman was watching him calmly, with her legs crossed and arms folded. Ashe was particularly drawn to the black stockings she wore.

She looked at him. "Are you enjoying yourself, sneaking glances at me?"

Ashe stopped sneaking glances and instead turned to stare directly at the black stockings. "Sorry."

A thought popped into his mind. "Come to think of it... if you can touch me, does that also mean that I can... uh, Swordswoman, remember to clean yourself up later—"

Clang!

The Swordswoman drew her ornate sword.

Ashe froze on instinct. He straightened up and turned to Ronna. "Tell Varkas to wash his neck and be ready for me tomorrow!"

"Alright, then. Come to the Death Match Club tomorrow morning. I'll leave you to your dinner. My boyfriend's waiting. Goodbye," Ronna said, then left swiftly.

Ashe originally thought Ronna's boyfriend was waiting in the Couples Room, but after watching for a while, he realized Ronna wasn't heading there at all. Instead, he was going toward the Death Match Club.

Ashe thought, There are probably people still fighting late-night Death Matches. Are they trying to kill those healers with overtime?

The Swordswoman jumped down from the table. "Let's head back to the cell. You've got a busy night ahead. I'm going to show you a whole new world."

Ashe's face immediately flushed red with anger. A whole new world!? Do I look that much like a virgin!? This woman has gone too far. If she keeps acting so brazen, I'll have no dignity left!

"Why aren't you coming?"

"Right behind you~."

***

At 8:45 p.m.

An unknown duel with few spectators was underway in the Death Match Club.

"Ashe agreed, but not because of the name you gave me. He was waiting for an opponent who uses a sword. He only decided after I mentioned that you wield one."

"Thanks. I owe you this one, Ronna."

"Varkas, you can repay me right now. Just tell me why you suddenly set your sights on little Ashe. Does it have anything to do with the name, Syrin Dorr?"

In the dimly lit spectator seats, a lean, middle-aged man was watching a feast unfolding in the arena.

Yes, there was no better word to describe the scene than a feast. The "food" ran, screamed, and begged for mercy, but none could escape the fate of being devoured.

"I won't mind telling you, as long as you don't regret it."

Ronna tore a strip of warm meat and chewed slowly. "Then forget it. My boyfriend and I are happy and satisfied with our lives. I don't want to get tangled in the games of the powerful people. But is Ashe really the leader of the Four Pillars Cult? I pride myself on knowing people, and he seems more like a student who just started working. I even thought he was innocent."

The middle-aged man snorted coldly. "Anyone who steps into this cesspit is far from innocent. The only difference is whether their skin is tainted by filth, or whether they willingly swallow it themselves."

"I'm eating, Varkas. Can we not talk about cesspits?"

"Alright, then. I'll let you get back to your meal. Enjoy."

***

​​When the doors of the Death Match Club slammed shut, the faint, barely audible screams faded into the inky darkness.

Varkas walked down the prison corridor.

Every prisoner and guard he passed kept their distance from him.

Occasionally, a newly arrived prisoner would glance at Varkas's pointy ears and give him a mocking smirk.

When Varkas returned to his cell, he found a guard waiting outside.

He had expected this. He opened the door and said softly, "Ashe Heath has agreed to duel me."

The guard instructed, "Make sure you crush his brain, heart, and spine completely, beyond what even a Two‑Winged healer could repair."

Varkas held the door open but didn't step inside. He turned to the guard. "I'll do what you want. But what about your promise to me?"

"As long as Ashe Heath dies tomorrow, you’ll vanish from this prison after the next Blood Moon Tribunal. But you and that boy have to leave Caimon City. That’s Mr. Syrin’s condition."

"Sure. I have no interest in breathing the same air as Syrin either," Varkas replied with visible disgust.

"Recreation time is almost over. Head back to your cell."

Varkas's mouth twitched. He stepped into the room, and the automatic door slid shut behind him.

The guard turned and left with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "An elven death-row inmate still clinging to the arrogance of a born noble? Hmph!"