Sorcerer’s Handbook

"The new cult leader is going to deathmatch with the 'Beauty Beast'!"

"Beauty Beast doesn't even let go of 1 contribution point?"

"Could the cult leader have fallen for it already?"

"Oh no, then it won't be just 1 contribution point. Beauty Beast might get 50 contribution points this time..."

Hearing the buzzing discussions from the spectator stands while bandaging his fists, Ashe showed a reluctant smile: "It seems you really are just pretending to be a pig to eat the tiger."

"On the contrary, I feel like you're the one hiding your strength to lure me into a trap." The blonde, blue-eyed, fair-skinned Igor laughed: "You're the leader of the Four Pillars cult who dared to oppose the Blood Mad Hunter. I'm just an ordinary fraud criminal. No matter how you think about it, your combat power should be higher, right?"

Indeed, before the deathmatch with Igor, Ashe had asked Langna about Igor's criminal record.

After all, almost every prisoner would first introduce themselves on the news channel, so the criminal records between prisoners were almost transparent. Just like how everyone now knew Ashe was the little cult leader taken down by the hunters.

Igor Bukin, also known as 'The Deceiver', worked in the insurance industry. He was jailed for defrauding many tycoons and obtaining a large sum of money. He was originally a psychic mage, possessing spirits like 'Covenant' and a series of other mental manipulation abilities.

Although the prison theoretically prohibited the use of spirits, this ban was only a 'direct' ban rather than a 'complete' ban.

For psychics like Igor who focused on mental cultivation, they could still trigger effects through rhetoric, suggestion, body language and so on, just like how Igor extended that team invitation to Ashe in the hall. Once Ashe agreed, the spirit would silently imprint a mark on Ashe's psyche.

It sounded like Igor didn't really have any direct combat abilities, but—

Ding!

The lights around the Deathmatch Society dimmed again, leaving only the LED screen above the arena, attracting everyone's eyes.

"Igor Bukin bets 46 contribution points"

"VS"

"Ashe Heath bets 1 contribution point"

In a deathmatch, everyone would only bet the minimum amount, which meant Igor had already fought 45 deathmatches!

Moreover, according to Langna, Igor had won all 45 previous deathmatches!

So why did Ashe agree to this deathmatch?

Because he had already agreed.

When Igor jokingly asked Ashe to deathmatch, Ashe likewise responded jokingly with "Sure, sure", and at that moment, he had already fallen into the pit—he could no longer go back on the joke.

It was hard to describe the feeling. It wasn't his body being controlled, but his perceptions were modified. It was like having an absurd notion that 'water is lethal poison'. Ashe was certain he had to deathmatch Igor.

He didn't know what the consequences of refusing were, because the thought of 'refusing' didn't even emerge in his mind at all. It was as if even thinking about this freest thing was shackled.

"So don't casually respond to anyone's invitations in the future."

The Swordswoman lazily leaned against the railing and said: "You're the Apocalypse Observer. In my opinion, you should refuse all goodwill and malice from anyone, say 'no' to everything, seize everything with your own power, dictate everything with your own will, and rule the world like a demon king—"

"No!"

"You little..."

Just as the Swordswoman was left speechless, transparent barriers rose around the arena, signaling the official start of the deathmatch.

With a 'ding' ringing in his mind, Ashe felt a shackle in his body relax. The chips on their necks no longer restricted them from attacking each other!

At the same time, Igor lunged forward, his agile body pouncing like a hunting leopard!

Ashe immediately raised his arms to defend and evaded to the side, but Igor seemed to be able to predict his reactions early on, sweeping Ashe's leg and tripping him face-first to the ground.

Even as Ashe swiftly completed the breakfall and got up, he still couldn't evade Igor's follow-up pursuit, taking a heavy punch to the gut that almost made him vomit bile.

"Grit your teeth," Igor 'kindly' reminded, before punching Ashe's temple!

Dazed by the strike, Ashe leaned against the wall, using his arms to protect his vital areas. But Igor seemed able to preempt all his actions, each straight punch and hook landing where Ashe failed to defend, soon leaving Ashe battered and stumbling around while being beaten. contemporary romance

He shouted angrily in his mind: "Hasn't the experience transfer started yet? I'm going to be beaten to death at this rate!"

"Oww it hurts so much! Swordswoman, possess me and beat the crap out of this blondie!"

"Swordwoman mommy, save me—"

The Swordswoman lazily said: "Coming, coming, the more you get beaten, the faster the experience transfers. And try fighting back instead of just taking hits!"

"Does fighting back accelerate the transfer?"

"No, but it'll make the fight look better. Watching you get one-sidedly thrashed is pretty boring after all."

Although she said that, the Swordswoman was actually quite surprised inside.

Ashe getting treated like a sandbag was within her expectations, after all this was Shattered Lake Prison. By participating in deathmatches here, Ashe was like a lamb voluntarily walking into a wolfpack. It would be strange if he wasn't eaten clean.

She had thought Ashe would reveal an unsightly appearance, kneeling and begging for mercy while bawling. But while battered, Ashe was doing his utmost: minimizing his strike zone by backing against the wall, protecting his face and neck with his arms, swiftly getting up after falling instead of lying on the ground to be pinned... What surprised the Swordswoman most was that Ashe hadn't cried at all.

As someone who lived sheltered in a greenhouse and never experienced bloodshed before crossing over, Ashe's willpower was unexpectedly tenacious. He even had a certain degree of psychological modulation.

He kept chattering away in his mind to converse with the Swordswoman, using the dialogue to alleviate the pain. And he wasn't distracted either, his defensive motions becoming more adept, his evasion reactions also getting faster and faster. It was simply...

Simply like a continuously learning sponge.

The Swordswoman suddenly felt that even without her, without the Sorcerer Handbook, after going through the baptism of his first crossing, Ashe could still quickly adapt to this seemingly beautiful yet cruel world.

He wasn't a weak person at heart. Once the environment changed, his true nature would be revealed.

As expected... he was the Apocalypse Observer...

Slap!

Ashe felt like his arm bone was on fire, stinging hotly. The Swordswoman urged him to counterattack, and he was already quite pissed from the beating, even a mud man had a fiery temper, let alone Ashe who wasn't the sort to take humiliation lying down.

He had his own work style from his job, never talking back to superiors, but not taking any crap from colleagues either. He was capable, sucking up audibly when claiming credit, so he also mixed quite smoothly in the workplace, otherwise he wouldn't have been appointed team lead for the new game's operations team by the boss.

Seizing the opportunity, he recalled the military fist he learned during military training and threw a charging punch!

"So soft and cute."

Igor tilted his head leisurely like he was shopping, an disdainful smile on his face as he exquisitely dodged the punch before slamming his fist into Ashe's face.

"You!"

"You—!"

"You—you—!"

Ashe couldn't help but be unable to swear. Moreover, none of his punches landed.

Every one of Igor's punches inflicted heavy damage on Ashe. No matter how Ashe dodged, he couldn't evade Igor. Yet Igor only needed to twist slightly to avoid Ashe's straight punch.

To onlookers, they didn't seem to be fighting, but performing—As if Ashe was deliberately offering his face to collide with Igor's fist.

"There it is again, Beauty Beast's tricks."

"Looks like the rest of the cult leader's 49 contribution points will also go into Beauty Beast's pocket."

"Humph, always playing those flashy tricks. If it were me—"

"What would happen if it were you?"

"If it were me, he'd be kneeling down to see if I'm still breathing!"

"While we can't beat Beauty Beast, Sir Taig definitely can!"

The white-haired elder Taig hurriedly shook his head: "Can't, can't, youngsters get stronger with each generation. Us old folks will eventually become your stepping stones..."

Hey old man, can you let go of the railing first before saying that? Everyone silently cursed. Suddenly someone looked towards Langna snuggling against a burly man's embrace: "Langna, can you see through Beauty Beast's tricks?"

"Don't know. And just talking is useless, you'd have to fight him to know. But I don't wanna fight Beauty Beast, he's not my type. Don't worry dear, as long as you're breathing, I won't look at anyone else."

The burly man being snuggled showed a forced smile amidst the darkness.

In the deathmatch arena, Igor shook the blood off his fist and casually asked: "Do you know why I won all 45 previous deathmatches despite my mediocre physique and reflexes? Yet you just can't hit me while I can always hit you?"

Yes, from the earlier fight, Ashe realized Igor's constitution was about the same as his. Forget comparing to freaks like 'Diamond' Taig, even any random burly guy could restrain Igor. Despite being on the same level, Ashe couldn't touch Igor except for the face.

If Igor had great boxing skills it would be one thing, but Ashe sensed Igor's combat level was ordinary. Otherwise Ashe wouldn't have lasted this long.

Clearly both were trash, so why could only you peck me?

"I've defeated beastmen, ogres, many far stronger than me physically, yet they all fell in this arena, transferring contribution points that didn't belong to them to me." Igor slowly said: "The reason you and them would end up in such a dog-eat-dog situation is for one reason only—"

"You are all livestock."

"Your lives never belonged to you in the first place."

"The moment you stepped onto the arena, the collar I prepared for you was already around your neck. Until I've squeezed your last drop of contribution points, you are my livestock!"

"The fate of livestock can only be one—"

Igor looked down condescendingly at Ashe, sticking out his tongue to lick his lips as he revealed a cruel smile: "Slaughtered into pieces of delicious shapes by the owner!"

"Go on, Ashe Heath. Don't think of surrendering, there's no such rules in a deathmatch. Don't worry, I'm very gentle with my livestock. It'll be over soon."

Ashe straightened his back, twisted his neck, and spat out a mouthful of blood: "Yes."

The Swordswoman watching also nodded and lazily said: "It's over."

done.co