Sorcerer’s Handbook

Ashe hadn’t completely lost consciousness.

It was a rather peculiar experience-honestly, Ashe suspected that his “normal experiences” lately might have been fewer than his “peculiar experiences.” Although he couldn’t move, speak, or do anything at all, Ashe didn’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest.

He felt like he was sitting in a movie theater, watching an endless film, without any chance of interfering with the plot. It was a bit regretful to think this way; he assumed that once he became Ashpel, he could use his authority to cancel Annan’s bounty, maybe by exploiting a time gap or something.

But there was no such loophole: The moment Ashe became Ashpel, he completely lost his sense of self. Or rather, it was only by entirely losing his self and making way for Ashpel to ascend that he could obtain deity authority.

Deity authority always belonged to Ashpel; Ashe couldn’t even touch it.

He hoped Annan and the others were safe.

It was also in this moment that Ashe understood the biggest difference between a deity and a spirit, and why mortals couldn’t contain deities: Deities have a strong self-awareness.

Actually, spirits also have self-awareness. When Ashe and the others were in Shattered Lake Prison, they could entice spirits to work through Knowledge Resonance, essentially pleasing them. However, compared to spirits, sorcerers were too strong, so strong that they didn’t need to care about the spirits’ thoughts, and could directly use spellforce to exploit their labor.

The reason sorcerers can’t contain deities essentially boils down to two strong personalities clashing and eroding each other, only ending when one side completely shatters. During this process, the sorcerer often played the role of the egg, while the deity was the stone.

Upon learning this intelligence, Ashe also understood why the First Gospel demanded “only the purest, most innocent, kindest, and loveliest maidens”-because the Gospel deity likely had this kind of personality. Finding a soul with a similar personality would make the integration much easier, like wearing a tailor-made outfit.

Although Ashe wasn’t custom-fitted and was somewhat ill-suited, his material was tough enough to endure, so the Gospel could make do with him.

Thinking of this, Ashe couldn’t help but feel a sense of respect for another person-how did future Harvey manage to subdue a deity?

Even though he was already a legendary sorcerer by then, a legendary sorcerer couldn’t possibly contain a deity; otherwise, the First Gospel would have directly chosen the newest legendary sorcerer available.

Normally, the logical assumption would be that “Harvey and that deity were extremely compatible, so he barely managed to accommodate the deity’s self-awareness, like two brothers sharing the same pair of underwear.”

But for Ashe, whose relationship with Harvey was second only to Harvey and Alice, he had a bolder speculation: Was future Harvey’s original body truly human?

If he had already transferred his consciousness into a corpse, an urn, a zero master, or a soul stone, Ashe wouldn’t be surprised at all. This way, Harvey could naturally vacate his soul for the deity to reside in, as he didn’t occupy that space anyway-it was purely an office.

Whether he had an excellent relationship with the deity, enough to share living space, or he gave up his “house” for the deity and squeezed in with Alice, it all meant that Harvey was way ahead of ordinary sorcerers on the path of eccentricity.

Ashe couldn’t transfer his consciousness, nor could he wear the same pair of pants as “the purest, most innocent, kindest, and loveliest maidens,” so he was figuratively kicked out to spend his last moments in this movie theater until he got bored and dozed off in his seat.

Ashe thought he’d quickly fall asleep; however…

In the theater, aside from him, there were others.

Three more people were watching the movie from the back and, quite rudely, they were chatting and discussing the plot, keeping Ashe wide awake.

Although the voices sounded somewhat familiar, perhaps due to losing access to his brain, Ashe couldn’t recall where he had heard them, nor could he remember their conversations.

He could only name them based on the emotions their voices revealed: ‘Cold,’ ‘Angry,’ and ‘Crazy.’

Angry: “If this continues, he’s really going to become the vessel for a deity. Aren’t you scared?”

Cold: “What good is being scared? This wasn’t part of my plan. Do you think I can foresee every detail and arrange his life perfectly? Grab the most valuable treasures, win the most loyal subordinates, sleep with the most beautiful and adorable women, and create miracle after miracle?”

“Grateful for your praise, but I am not the Dramatic Poet; I can’t write such an exhilarating script… I can’t even predict his actions.”

Crazy: “Huh? How can you not predict his actions? Isn’t he like the protagonist of a novel you wrote?”

Cold: “Not to mention that a novel’s protagonist has an agency that can exceed the author’s control, and… when you find an old notebook in a corner, seeing a novel you only wrote one chapter of decades ago, can you recall what you were thinking back then?”

Angry: “So what are you saying? We’re just going to watch him fall?”

Cold: “In fact, that’s what we’re already doing. If luck isn’t on our side, there’s nothing we can do… Why do you look so unwilling to accept it? I should have told you, this is a high-stakes, dangerous gamble, not a leisurely trip down memory lane, right?”

Angry: “Sonya is still waiting for him. She can’t be without him.”

Crazy: “What an easy problem to solve; why are you so troubled? Just let her die with him. What, doesn’t she have experience with suicide? That’s an educational failure.”

Wow, they’re really going at it, what a racket, Ashe thought. But they are really noisy; can’t they consider other people’s feelings? Some people are trying to sleep here.

Cold: “Alright, if you like fighting so much, go somewhere else and have at it.”

Angry: “Is it really necessary to go back? If he falls, what purpose do we still serve?”

Crazy: “Idiot, what he means is that this play isn’t over yet.”

Angry: “Little Trumpet…”

Crazy: “You’re the only one who’s panicking; I knew someone would come to save the day… Hmph, the person you should be mad at is him, pretending like it’s all ‘out of his plan’ or ‘bad luck,’ acting as if he can’t do anything about it, yet he already knows the final outcome because he’s lived through it before!”

Cold: “The circumstances are completely different. I truly can’t be certain this time.”

Crazy: “How different? Is it just that Sister Fu is replaced by him this time? Previously, you used Sister Fu to manipulate me, and now he’s doing it directly with that foolish girl.”

Angry: “Your previous encounter stories?”

Crazy: “Calling it ‘encounters’ is too kind; even ‘grudges’ doesn’t cover it. I’d rather call it the stories of us being victims of our own terrible judgment. My relentless pursuit of him across other Kingdoms shows just how unforgettable his so-called favors were, a rage only quenched by chopping him up to feed Lala Fatty.”

Cold: “You’re too kind. I’ll keep up the good work.”

Crazy: “But there’s one thing I’ve never understood-how did you manage to take the deity from my soul back then?”

Cold: “It was a blessing I got from the Dramatic Poet, which allowed me to seize someone’s spirit through close contact… didn’t expect it to work on a deity too.”

Angry: “So we just need to wait quietly? Do nothing?”

Cold: “If you’re interested, you could take this opportunity to brainwash him. He’s currently in a dazed, wandering state, one step away from being entirely scattered. This is the most vulnerable time, the easiest to twist his mind. Whatever you say to him now could leave a deep anchor in his consciousness, completely reshaping his personality.”

Angry: “What do you mean?”

Cold: “Aren’t you quite concerned about him and Sonya? Then whisper in his ear that you’ll only love Sonya in this life, that no one else will even spark desire in you, but just the scent of Sonya makes your blood boil. Tell him you’ll go into withdrawal if you don’t see Sonya every day… things like that.”

Angry: “Are you mocking me?”

Cold: “If that’s what you think, there’s nothing I can do.”

Angry: “If it’s possible, why don’t you brainwash him?”

Cold: “Whether out of personal or public interest, if you want to reshape his personality, you must believe the changed him would be better, right? Meaning you’d want to create a better Ashe.”

“But in my heart, I believe I am the best. My personality, principles, desires, and will… my soul is perfect.”Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Crazy: “Wow, the way he praises himself is shameless!”

Cold: “Yet, the facts show I’m not perfect, maybe even the opposite. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

“So obviously, I won’t influence him. Otherwise, it would just be a boring repeat of history. I want to see if I’m wrong or if the world is.”

Angry: “…then why allow me to influence him?”

Cold: “Because I’m curious about what your version of the ‘perfect Ashe’ would be.”

Crazy: “Sounds interesting, let me-“

Angry: “Stay away from him!”

They’re fighting again… how annoying they are…

Ashe stared listlessly at the scene, suddenly noticing that everyone’s Gospel Book in the banquet hall popped open.

Cold: “Seems the show isn’t over yet.”

Crazy: “Actually fooled, willing to go that far… so dumb, just like us.”

Angry: “No wonder you weren’t worried at all… you planned everything, pretending to know nothing to trick me!”

Cold: “I just thought it was a possibility. The truly omniscient one who manipulates everyone is the Omniscient Weaver, not me.”

Angry: “Wait, so now Ashe escapes, but-“

Cold: “Don’t worry, the Omniscient Weaver already calculated everything. That spider wouldn’t settle for earning 99% while the other side gets 1%; she wants to earn 200% while having the other side owe her 100% more.”

Crazy: “…”

Ashe could no longer hear the loud and disrespectful banter from those behind him. It felt like he was stepping out of a closed-off cinema; the light, air, and scents of the world eagerly welcomed him back.

He was the protagonist of his own story once again.

It was as if he had consumed a strong drink, making him realize that a long time had passed. However, it felt as though that time did not belong to him; he had no idea what had transpired.

With the crowd’s astonished gasps, Ashe glanced down at his Gospel Book and saw a new, unfamiliar name-

“1st on the Gospel Ranking: Gosdeya.”

Gosdeya?

Wasn’t it supposed to be Ashpel?

Ashe suddenly found it difficult to focus, his awareness beginning to dissolve.

Although his soul wasn’t completely occupied, the deity’s attempt to exit his soul was putting an unbearable strain on it. Coupled with the night’s escapades-sneaking, disguising, fleeing, and fighting-his soul had long been overburdened. With the deity coming and going, he finally reached his limit, his eyes rolling back as he passed out.

He didn’t know how much time had passed until a ray of sunlight pried open his eyelids, dancing across his lens. Ashe let out a long-forgotten groggy grunt, wanting to change position and continue sleeping.

However, when he tried to move, he felt a heavy weight pressing down on him.

Ashe opened his eyes to find himself still seated on the throne in the banquet hall, but the guests had all vanished. The hall was empty, except for a little girl with white hair who had fallen asleep on him.

“Lise!”

Ashe, holding her arm with delight, carefully checked her condition as if she were a delicate piece of art. “Are you alright? I clearly saw… well, it’s just great that you’re okay. Thank goodness, thank goodness!”

The white-haired little girl smiled at Ashe, who was so relieved that his eyes were nearly red, and said, “Not only me, Annan, Igor, Harvey, and Banjeet all survived as well, though with varying degrees of injury. I have also canceled the bounty on Annan.”

“Thank you,” Ashe instinctively replied, then realized something was off. “You canceled it?”

“Yes.”

“You mean… your status as a princess has been recognized by the Royal Family, so you can command…”

“No.” Ignoring his overly hopeful expression, the white-haired little girl directly shattered his idle fantasy. “I am now the First Gospel, Gosdeya. My orders are the fate of all beings, which is why the Sanctuary Sorcerers who obey the Gospel have stopped hunting Annan and the others.”

Ashe, in disbelief, summoned his Gospel Book and stared intensely at the name at the top of the Gospel Ranking, as if seeing it for the first time. He struggled to say, “But your name doesn’t have the character for Gosdeya!”

The little girl jumped off him, dressed in the same pink wool coat and plaid skirt she wore yesterday. Her skin was as pure white as snow, and her lips as red as blood. She smiled at Ashe, but in her light green eyes was a look that he found deeply unfamiliar.

“Hello, I am Lise Deya.”