Sorcerer’s Handbook

Shattered Lake Prison Restaurant.

Perhaps because he had arrived unusually early today, Ashe discovered that the restaurant was filled with prisoners having breakfast. Upon closer observation, he was astonished: besides Humans, Orcs, and Goblins, the prison was a melting pot of various species—there were creatures crawling on the floor, some with a pair of horns, and others with four arms…

Ashe even spotted a particularly seductive female with hooves and fuzzy ears, her species unknown to him. This piqued his interest in the healthcare industry of this world and sparked wild fantasies.

“Do you want some food?”

The soulful inquiry of the cafeteria lady snapped Ashe’s attention back to the present.

He carelessly ordered a few things to fill his stomach and noticed a unique food labeled ‘one serving per person’ at the window that looked particularly tempting.

“What’s this, ma’am?”

“Premium Seafood Lala Fatty, a seasonal delicacy, with a very limited supply,” she explained. “You’d miss out if you were any later.”

“Alright, I’ll take…”

A booming voice interrupted Ashe, and he turned to see a green-skinned orc getting his meal. The cafeteria lady, hearing the orc’s demand, took the remaining five servings of the Seafood Lala Fatty and dumped them all into his enormous bowl.

“Huh? Why does he get five servings?”

Ashe was dumbfounded.

“He’s an Orc,” the lady said matter-of-factly.

“Why does an Orc get five servings?”

“That’s just the way it is with Orcs, always has been.”

“But if he takes five servings, there won’t be any left for me. How is that fair—”

Ashe’s words suddenly choked in his throat as a Holographic Screen popped up with a series of red warnings that filled his vision:

“WARNING: You are attempting to make a racially discriminatory statement! This is prohibited! In the Blood Moon Kingdom, racial equality is the first principle! Please be advised!”

Complaining about an Orc eating too much is considered racial discrimination?

Frustrated, Ashe carried his tray in search of a seat, only to find every spot taken. Finally, he spotted an open seat next to a blue-skinned creature with an exceptionally large rear, looking even more formidable than the Orc and taking up two seats.

In his past life, Ashe would have turned on his heel and left, but this was Shattered Lake Prison, and the creature couldn’t lay a finger on him. So Ashe strode over with newfound bravado.

“Hey, you’re taking up two seats, make some room.”

The blue-skinned creature, busily scooping food with his hands, glanced at him and then resumed eating.

“I’m an Ogre.”

“Oh, and? Just because you’re an Ogre doesn’t mean you can take up two seats—”

“WARNING: You are attempting to make a racially discriminatory statement! This is prohibited! In the Blood Moon Kingdom, racial equality is the first principle! Please be advised!”

Claiming your rear is taking up two seats is racial discrimination too?

Ashe felt like cursing out loud but couldn’t; his words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to dump his tray over the creature but couldn’t manage it; his hands were frozen.

Under the control of their neck chips, every prisoner was the most loyal follower of the law. They had the greatest freedom as long as they didn’t violate any laws or morals. But the moment they even approached the legal or moral boundaries, whether it was a word or a glance, invisible shackles would bind them tightly.

Suddenly, Ashe felt a pat on his shoulder. A burly man beside him got up with his tray and gestured for Ashe to take his seat.

“Thanks,” Ashe said, recognizing the man who seemed familiar, as if he had seen him yesterday at the Deathmatch Society.

“Desmond,” the man introduced himself, casting a disdainful glance at the Ogre and Goblins at the table, “I’m heading to the Deathmatch Society. Maybe you’ll join me for a fight someday.”

Hearing they were from the Deathmatch Society, others looked up and shifted away slightly. Ashe sat down, listening to the Ogre beside him chew like a tractor and watching the Goblins across from him squatting on the chairs, scattering crumbs everywhere. A strong desire to flee welled up inside him.

This urge wasn’t like the desire to escape from prison because he knew that staying would mean death. This was a revulsion to the environment.

The last time he felt this way was during an internship when he had a stupid boss. If it was a colleague, he could fight back or play tricks; but with a stupid boss, there was nothing he could do but endure, not even voice his resistance.

He could suffer and endure because endurance was for a future without suffering.

But enduring a stupid boss meant enduring forever. Why work at all? Why not just say goodbye and find a new, more reasonable boss?

Now the situation was far worse than having a stupid boss—the entire environment was stupid.

You’re furious, but you can’t say anything; you want to resist, but your body won’t cooperate.

Suddenly, Ashe had an epiphany.

He had thought that Shattered Lake Prison was actually treating prisoners well.

But in reality, locking up such a despicable group of death row inmates together, not allowing any overstepping actions among them, and having them desperately create value for the prison to avoid the Blood Moon Tribunal was a form of mental torture.

Extinguishing their anger.

Shattering their hopes.

Eliminating their courage.

Destroying their backbone.

Planting seeds of despair, frustration, regret, and fear within them to take root and grow until they were reduced to mere shadows of themselves, driven to madness, and appeared before the Blood Moon Tribunal as ‘perfect victims,’ facing the tragic end they deserved.

Ashe could also understand why there were so many people in the Deathmatch Society.

It was the only place where death row inmates could vent, the only spot in the prison resembling a dog’s hole where one could breathe a bit of fresh air for a moment.

It was akin to a garbage recycling center.

Interestingly, it was Ashe, who couldn’t stand the environment, who was the real garbage, while those death row inmates who could sit back and enjoy were the model prisoners of the prison.

Ashe quickly finished his meal and hurried off to where the garbage belonged.

In the Deathmatch Society, there wasn’t an ongoing Deathmatch. The place was well-lit, and Ashe could see Langna lying in his boyfriend’s arms from a distance.

Ashe couldn’t help but wonder if it was an illusion that Langna’s boyfriend seemed a little thinner than yesterday.

Could it be that Langna was originally one of those who drained others dry?

“Ashe,” Langna raised his hand in greeting, “you’re here early. Have you just finished breakfast? Why not take a moment to digest? Valcas hasn’t arrived yet anyway.”

Ashe nodded and found a place to sit down, and someone immediately took the seat next to him.

“Sylin Dole.”

“Who?”

Ashe looked toward Igor with a hint of wariness in his eyes.

“You don’t need to be tense,” Igor raised an eyebrow. “I’m not interested in inviting you to a Deathmatch—I don’t participate in battles I’m not sure of, nor do I waste time for something as worthless as pride. I admit when I’ve lost, fair and square.”

“Your heart’s too dirty with tactics, I can’t trust you.”

“Then let’s skip the pointless prelude and get right to the oldest interaction between humans—”

“Mating?”

“Trading, trading!” Igor enunciated so clearly it was as if he wanted to bite the words until they bled, “You answer one of my questions, and I’ll answer one of yours.”

“I don’t have any questions to ask you.”

“Really? Wouldn’t you like to know why that Elf Valcas challenged you?”

Elf?

Ashe was surprised internally, but his face didn’t show it.

“Okay, I am a bit curious, but how do I know you won’t lie?”

“I don’t know if you’ll lie to me either,” Igor chuckled. “We both take the same risk.”

“What’s the point of the trade then?”

“Because I’m confident that I can tell if you’re lying and even if you do lie, I can guess the truth. Similarly, you can—”

“I can’t.” Ashe shook his head. “I haven’t read much; you’ll definitely deceive me.”

Igor was taken aback, seemingly encountering someone with such self-awareness for the first time.

After a silent moment, he said reluctantly, “Then I’ll just tell you the information. You decide if it’s valuable. If it is, then answer my question, okay?”

His tone was as if he was a Sichuanese agreeing to a mandarin duck hot pot… Ashe thought about it, feeling he probably wouldn’t be taken advantage of, so he nodded.

“Valcas Uhl used to be a Researcher at Kaimon Comprehensive College. He was imprisoned for allegedly stealing important patent technology, raising a child privately, and killing a colleague. Because of his Elf race, he is the only Death row inmate who hasn’t attended the Blood Moon Tribunal in the month he was incarcerated. It’s been five years in prison, and he has never been to the Blood Moon Tribunal.”

Ashe sighed, recalling Langna mentioning that every Death row inmate must attend the first Blood Moon Tribunal. In the Prison, this was known as ‘going through the motions.’ Passing through was a qualification to create value in Shattered Lake Prison; failing meant only qualifying to become fertilizer.

“Why could he escape the Blood Moon Tribunal? Because of his Elf race? Isn’t Racial equality the first principle in the Blood Moon Kingdom?”

“Racial equality is certainly the first principle.”

Igor wore a mysterious smile on his face.

“But some races are more equal than others.”

Equality, it seems, is a horizon – always present but forever out of reach… Ashe had no grand lamentations about this; after all, he had only just arrived and didn’t have a deep understanding of how ‘racial equality’ was actually implemented here.

“So why did he challenge me?”

“To understand that, we need to start with the crimes he committed. Although stealing patent technology and killing a colleague are serious offenses, they are not enough to land him in Shattered Lake Prison. His truly egregious crime that enraged the higher-ups was that he raised a child in secret!”

Ashe was completely baffled.

What?

“Why is raising a child in secret considered the most serious offense?”

“Because it’s forbidden, no one is allowed to raise children on their own.”

Ashe grew even more confused.

“If no one raises children, then you… then how did we grow up?”

“We all grew up in Nurseries,” Igor said, furrowing his brows tightly. “Socialized Rearing is a fundamental national policy of the Blood Moon Kingdom. Are you asking this question to provoke me?”

Socialized Rearing?

Ashe tried his best to understand this unfamiliar term, “You mean, we’re all raised by the state, and everyone is…”

He wanted to say ‘orphaned without a mother or father,’ but the words stuck in his throat.

This time it wasn’t the chip that stopped him.

It was that Ashe simply couldn’t find the words.

He struggled to search through Heath’s mind but found that in Heath’s native language dictionary, there were simply no words like ‘father’ or ‘mother’! The only term that came remotely close was ‘guardian’!

There could be no stronger evidence than this.

The absence of the words ‘parents’ was enough to prove that in the social relationships of the Blood Moon Kingdom, these roles simply didn’t exist!

Wait, orphans raised through socialized rearing, the neck chip that controls everyone’s speech and actions…

Ashe suddenly felt a twinge of fear about the world outside the Prison.

What kind of world have I transmigrated into!