The Sorcerer's Handbook-Chapter 56: Youre the One Who Should Leave

Eventually, Nagu took off his boots and revealed a pair of cute socks embroidered with tiny golden lions. He saw no way to refuse Ashe's request.

Hundreds of thousands of citizens, each with a ballot in hand, were watching the live broadcast. If Nagu wanted any chance of leaving the prison in the future or securing a seat on the city council, he couldn't risk doing anything to tarnish his public image.

He had specifically requested the position of Warden to gain exposure, make himself known to the public, and lay the groundwork for a future political campaign. If he couldn't even fulfill this small wish from Ashe, no one would take him seriously, not as a council member, and not even as a warden. The Warden post was the easiest way for him to build a strong record. Losing it would mean being stuck as an ordinary prison guard until he achieved Two-Winged Gold.

Nagu had weighed the situation carefully and knew the right choice. Nevertheless, when he held the brand-new boots he had looked forward to for a whole year and worn for less than a month in his hand, he couldn't help feeling a deep sense of sorrow.

Ashe urged, "Come on, hurry! I'm in a rush."

"Can you catch it?"

"I can!"

"Make sure your foot goes in straight, or you'll wrinkle the pattern on the outside."

"I got it, I got it!"

"I actually have another good pair of boots... I could grab them for you—"

"Just toss it over!"

If most viewers reacted the same way during live broadcasts, their responses would be relayed through the camera's sensors to the host, allowing them to see how the audience was responding. Clearly, the interaction between Ashe and Nagu had made the audience laugh. After hundreds of episodes of the Blood Moon Tribunal, they had never seen such a goofy pair of prisoner and warden.

Nagu steeled himself. He couldn't afford to become a laughingstock, so he tossed the boots.

Ashe caught them and immediately noticed their quality. The boots had a refined design and were made of high-grade material. It's no wonder Nagu had acted as if he were mourning a lost lover.

Watching Ashe slip on the boots, Nagu's heart ached. "Ah! Don't jam them in! Aren't they too big for you? Take it slow! Push too hard, and you'll leave marks! Be gentler, okay?"

He had assumed Ashe wouldn't be around much longer and planned to take back the boots later.

But Ashe ignored him, pulled on the boots, and unleashed his Substitute spirit. Once again, a perfect duplicate of himself appeared beside him. This time, the substitute wore the steel-soled boots Ashe was currently wearing.

"Stand on the steel wire for a few seconds."

The substitute stood firmly on the wire. The steel wouldn't cut through the boots, so it remained unharmed, and it didn't vanish.

"Good! Come back."

The substitute returned.

"Squat!"

It obeyed, and Ashe climbed onto its shoulders. "Carry me across the wire to the opposite platform!" 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

This time, the substitute froze and stared up at him. Thinking it hadn't heard, Ashe repeated, "Carry me across to the platform on the other side!"

After three tense seconds, it moved. Perhaps it had finally understood Ashe's instruction, or it simply had resigned itself to its fate and carried out the task.

Every step it took made the steel wire groan under the weight, sending Ashe's heart racing. He had seen other condemned prisoners cross with ease, but when it came his turn to do it, he already felt like he might piss himself just from looking down at the abyss.

Still, they succeeded. The substitute carried him across without difficulty.

Ashe noticed another quirk of the sorcerer system. While ordinary people operated under the rule that they could not do anything unless explicitly allowed, sorcerers followed the opposite principle and could do anything that was not forbidden.

The Substitute's purpose was to create a perfect duplicate that obeyed his commands until it was harmed and vanished. As long as Ashe stayed within the bounds of what was implicitly or explicitly allowed, he could command the Substitute to perform feats he couldn't manage himself.

Right now, he couldn't walk the steel wire alone, nor could he carry someone across it. But his Substitute could, because he commanded it.

A spirit was not a miracle because it could not twist the laws of reality. It represented only the furthest extension of knowledge, the standard solution theory could offer, and the best outcome reality would permit. In essence, it marked the limit.

Ashe thought, If I could take the Substitute spirit back to my home world... I could have it look after Dad and Mom.

He quickly dismissed the idea. Using it that way would be far too wasteful. With a duplicate of myself at my disposal, why am I still thinking so narrowly?

It all came down to one thing: resource allocation.

He quickly revised his idea. I could let the substitute go out to work while I stay home to take care of them. But... judging by how things usually went, it would probably end with them taking care of me instead.

While Ashe was lost in thought, the substitute had already crossed more than half the wire. By now, most of the other condemned prisoners had reached the large platform on the opposite side. Only Ashe and Varkas remained suspended over the sea.

"You two. Stop right there. Don't take another step."

A scar-faced prisoner raised a long gun and aimed it at Ashe. "Move again, and don't blame me for sending you down to feed the sharks."

The others froze for a moment. Then they appeared to realize something and quietly retreated to the sides, all at once.

Ashe blinked. "Why?"

Varkas laughed from afar. "Isn't it obvious? Cowards prey on the helpless, scum see the world through their own flaws, and the weak do whatever it takes to survive."

Varkas liked speaking in riddles, but Ashe immediately noticed something else. The prisoners were not looking at him. Their gazes were fixed on the executioner behind him.

It quickly became clear to him that they feared he might rush over and use them as human shields. Oh. So that's an option too. No wonder they're condemned criminals. They're quicker than me at coming up with ways to screw others over, even when it doesn't do them any good.

Tonight's redeemed survivor would be either Ashe or Varkas. Their executioners followed closely behind them. If both reached the platform, then the executioner would arrive as well.

Judging from its dreadful appearance, its attacks were clearly not precise and controlled mental strikes. There was a high chance they would be wide-area physical assaults, capable of sweeping everything away.

In other words, when an execution took place, anyone nearby would likely be caught in it.

Hence, the prisoners who had reached the far side of the platform quickly became alert. They knew they had to stop Ashe and Varkas, or all eight of them would face the same fate, which was total annihilation.

That was why the scar-faced man raised his gun. In his mind, the best outcome was for Ashe and Varkas to die halfway across the wire.

He said, "If you don't want to fall and feed the sharks, behave yourselves!"

Ashe responded righteously. "I refuse. My favorite thing to do is say no when someone threatens me. Substitute, take a step forward."

Ee-yah.

The substitute took a heavy step forward. The steel wire creaked beneath the weight.

Bang!

The scar-faced man fired. Fear and rage twisted the scars on his face until they writhed like a centipede. "I will shoot you with the next one! Stop right there... stop!"

"I—don't—believe—you'll—shoot—me."

With each word Ashe deliberately dragged out, the substitute took another slow, deliberate, provocative step forward, like a living punching bag daring anyone to strike it.

Bang!

"Don't force me! I really will shoot! I've killed nineteen people before I came here. Check my file if you don't believe me!"

Ashe had already seen through him.

He said evenly. "The fact that you threatened me immediately means you're smart. And because you're smart, I know you won't shoot."

"Why the hell not?"

Ashe smiled. "Because if I die here, the next one executed will be you. As long as we're alive, everyone knows we are the ones meant to be executed. But if we die first, the audience will have to vote again and choose one person from the six of you."

The scar-faced man's mouth twitched. "Th-that doesn't mean it'll be me."

Ashe said gently, "No. It will be you. The audience is here to see us die. If you appear out of nowhere and ruin their spectacle, do you really think they won't vent their anger on you through their votes?"

He paused, then added, "And haven't you noticed? Everyone else has already moved away from you."

The scar-faced man stiffened and looked around. He soon found himself standing alone at the center of the platform, fully exposed. The others had retreated to the edges and were doing their best to stay out of the frame with him.

Ashe continued. "Why do they avoid you? If you keep us stuck on the wire, they benefit for free. If you shoot us, you become the obvious target for the vote. Either way, they lose nothing."

He smiled. "Unless you're a model prisoner, like someone who has renounced base instincts and embraced noble virtue. Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for your fellow inmates?"

The man's hand trembled. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

Ashe pressed on. "Let's take a step back and consider another scenario. Say you aren't chosen. So what? Someone among the six of you still will be. The executioner will still attack this platform.

"Or do you believe your companions are polite, moral citizens who will calmly jump into the sea when it's their turn and not drag everyone else down with them?"

As he finished speaking, the substitute stepped off the wire and carried Ashe safely onto the platform.

Only then did Ashe relax. His back was soaked with sweat. He had never been as confident as he sounded. At any moment, the scar-faced man could have snapped and fired out of spite. Despite his calm tone, Ashe's heart had been pounding violently.

To avoid provoking the scar-faced man further, Ashe had ordered the substitute to move as slowly as possible, creating the illusion that he was still vulnerable and giving the man time to think.

Thinking cooled anger. The more he thought, the more cautious and timid he would grow, and the more he would find Ashe's words reasonable.

Back in his old job, whenever coworkers wanted to quit on the spot, Ashe had used the same approach. He would listen first, let them feel heard, and then guide them to think things through on their own. At the very least, he could keep them occupied until the project was finished.

Ashe stepped down from the substitute and lightly patted the scar-faced man on the shoulder.

He smiled. "So, do you know where your way out is now?"

Like a drowning man clutching at a straw, the prisoner asked, "Where?"

Ashe replied calmly, "Go back. Or hang yourself on the wire. Since I'm standing here, if you don't want to die, the only option is to stay away from me."

He looked around at the others before declaring, "This is my ground. You're the ones who should leave."