The Sorcerer's Handbook-Chapter 93: Gerard Westminster

In the Central Hall.

The death row inmates were crowded together, greeting the new arrivals with laughter and jeers.

"Yo, if it isn't Edmund, the Enforcement Secretary from the Tax Bureau. I told you, sooner or later you'd come in here to join me."

"Brothers, this guy has a grudge against me. Don't fight me over him. I'll let you have the last five Death Matches, but the first five? Let me have my fun, alright?"

"Tsk tsk tsk, it's one big shot after another. So does this mean Andrea's Everlasting Wine Club is completely wiped out? The mayor didn't leave a single one alive! Brutal!"

"Caimon City has already become Fernandez's kingdom."

The seasoned inmates reveled in the spectacle. Compared to their gloating, the newcomers remained restrained. One by one, they followed the guards' instructions and pressed their fingers onto a bronze roster.

Ashe muttered from his hiding spot, "Strange, I didn't get this kind of welcome when I first came in."

"That's because you're special."

Ashe turned to see Necromancer Harvey standing beside him. As always, Harvey loved to talk and slipped into conversation as if they were old acquaintances. "The Four Pillars have a notorious reputation. You're the first cult leader of the Four Pillars Cult in a century. Until your access is fully adjusted, the prison won't let you anywhere near other inmates."

"Access adjusted?"

Harvey pointed toward the bronze roster. "That's the Sinner's Directory. When we enter, we press our fingers on it. From that moment on, the prison takes control over us. They can control every aspect of us, like attack permissions and our mana output."

Ashe frowned. "Weren't those controls already disabled when we were arrested?"

"They were. Before we entered the prison, the Heresy Court controlled them. Once we arrive, that authority has to be transferred here."

"That sounds unnecessarily complicated."

Harvey replied calmly, "It has to be done. If the Heresy Court retained control, it could remotely lift our restrictions. Any trouble we caused here would fall on the prison staff, while the Court took the blame. Neither side wants that.

"There's also another reason. The Heresy Court's processors are too far away, so over time, the restrictions could degrade."

Ashe blinked. "Restrictions can degrade?"

"All shackles rust eventually," Harvey said.

Without warning, he stepped into the crowd and grabbed a snake-lizard by the collar. "Habrune. Where's Narbel?"

The snake-lizard froze. Its scales lightened visibly. "Archibald... how do you remember me? You shouldn't remember me."

Ashe took a moment to recall Harvey's full name. Archibald Harvey.

It was such a long name that he had only remembered the surname. But what did the snake-lizard mean by "shouldn't remember"?

Harvey's gaze hardened. "I'm a necromancer. I can always reach into a soul if I need to. Memories may fade, but they never disappear completely. Where is Narbel? Why didn't she come with you?"

For a brief moment, Ashe wondered if Harvey bore a grudge against her. This was a death row prison. It would only make sense if he wanted his enemies in here.

However, the snake-lizard's next reply shattered that thought.

He said bitterly, "Why do you insist on remembering her? You are just making things harder for yourself."

Harvey pressed. "Did she betray you? Did she escape? Or—"

"She's dead."

The words fell heavily.

"Andrea fell. During the escape, the hunters caught up with us. She was shot through the head. There was no saving her."

Harvey's lips trembled. "You promised me. The boss promised me. You—"

The snake-lizard added, "The boss is dead too. I was the weakest. That's why I got caught first. The Heresy Court sent an entire enforcement brigade. Fernandez let us run on purpose. They wanted us wiped out completely. To him, we were nothing more than ants."

Harvey snapped. "I don't care. I don't care what you did. I don't care at all!"

His face twisted with rage. His knees gave way, and he sank to the floor. He gritted his teeth as his eyes reddened. "Impossible... that was Narbel... how could she just—"

No one intervened. Not even the guards. With the chip restrictions in place, the most anyone could do was grab a collar. Violence was impossible.

The scene passed quickly, dismissed as forgettable drama. Ashe felt a flicker of curiosity about Harvey's past, but asking now would only invite trouble and likely drag him into another Death Match. Seeing that it was almost time, he headed toward the cafeteria.

A group of crew members and Bloodrage Hunters were already on one side of the cafeteria, having their meals. The prisoners, aware of their place, gathered naturally on the opposite side. Shattered Lake Prison no longer had true troublemakers. Even if a few still existed, they could neither stir up conflict nor trade insults. Under these circumstances, approaching the hunters served no purpose. No one was about to wander over just to offer greetings.

Today's recommended menu featured Red Bean Paste Lala Fat, Orc Cheese Lettuce, and Coconut Egg Tarts.

Ashe had barely sat down when a well-mannered young man took the seat across from him.

Ashe remembered seeing him at the roster earlier. "New here?"

"Yes," the young man replied shyly. "Hello. My name's Baraka."

"Ashe."

Ashe had been here long enough to develop caution. As the saying went, the nicer someone looked, the more dangerous they could be underneath. A shy demeanor meant little in a place like this. The man across from him likely carried a list of crimes longer than his own.

Ashe asked, "So, why are you here eating?"

Baraka blinked. "Because... It's lunchtime?"

"On your first day here, aren't you supposed to be confined to your cells and wait for meals?" Ashe asked.

"No. They showed us our cells, then let us move around freely. There were no restrictions."

Ashe quickly understood. Solitary confinement on the first day was a special privilege reserved for cult leaders like him.

"So you're here because of political struggles, too? That young and already a political prisoner. Impressive."

"No, no. Actually... I'm a writer."

Baraka got even more bashful when he mentioned his occupation.

Ashe raised a brow. "A writer? Is it really that strict outside? Can you be sentenced to death just for writing a book? Does it contain political or adult content?"

"I haven't even started writing it yet."

"Huh?"

"I finished my last novel a few months ago and came up with a brilliant new idea. I discussed it with my editor, and they told me that if I insisted on writing it, they'd have to report me to the Heresy Court. So they suggested I write it in prison instead, to avoid endangering the publishing house."

Ashe blinked. "And that's how you ended up here?"

Baraka nodded. "After I explained the plot, the Heresy Court sent a memory specialist to examine me. Based on the tribunal's ruling, I was sentenced to redemption for 'endangering public safety,' and my thoughts were due to be purified during the Blood Moon Tribunal."

"Couldn't you just... not write it?"

Baraka lowered his head. "The memory specialist said I hadn't truly repented. My memories were filled with details from the new novel. They decided that as long as I lived, I'd find a way to write it anyway. And they weren't wrong. I'm not a creator, but just a storyteller. I can't let a good story rot in my head."

Ashe gave him a thumbs-up. "Good luck. I support you. By the way... any romantic or adult content?"

"No."

"Then I'll support you spiritually. I'm not really into books anyway."

As they spoke, Ashe finally spotted Iger entering through the doorway. He placed his tray in the collection area, dumped the untouched food into the slop bucket, then hurried over and threw an arm around Iger's shoulder.

Ashe asked quickly, "Have you eaten? The hunters are almost done. The signal's about to appear. Where are Ronna and Ronald—"

"They won't be coming."

"What?"

"I told them the plan's canceled."

Ashe showed neither surprise nor panic. He simply looked at Iger in silence.

Iger said, "Ashe, you know how the contract works. I can't go against your will unless it's absolutely necessary. And it's not like I truly resist it. If I did, I wouldn't have proposed a plan I've spent years refining.

"For me, this plan has always been a stage I wanted to step onto. You just happened to fill in the final gaps. Even without your wish, I might still have gone through with it. I can't resist an opportunity like this."

He placed both hands on Ashe's shoulders. "Believe me, like you, I want to get out of this cesspool, where even the air suffocates. But it's not going to be today."

"Why?"

"Because every critical part of the plan is now impossible. Too many unexpected variables have surfaced this week. I didn't account for them. Reality has drifted too far from what I imagined."

Just then, a commotion broke out near the entrance. The first group of hunters finished their meals and began filing out, while another group entered the cafeteria.

Ashe glanced over and sighed. "The signal's here."

Iger shook his head. "No. That's a danger signal. You're about to see the first unstable factor."

Suddenly, every Bloodrage Hunter stood and bowed in unison toward the doorway. "Greetings, Captain!"

"Good afternoon."

A white-haired hunter wearing a black half-sleeve stepped inside. His gaze swept across the death row inmates, and a smirk curled his lips. He said casually, "Trash, good afternoon."

One prisoner scowled. "I'll report you to the Heresy Court—"

The hunter sneered. "Perfect. One insult, one month's pay docked. That's two insults, which means two months gone."

He snapped his fingers. "But I like the number three, so let's make it even. How does it feel to be insulted by me while being unable to insult me back? Not pleasant, is it?"

He laughed loudly. "I love watching trash get angry and helpless, with frustration written all over their faces."

Another prisoner spoke through clenched teeth. "I'll remember you. You'd better—"

The hunter replied lightly, "You'd better indeed, since many of you were personally arrested by me."

His eyes glowed blood-red as his gaze swept through the cafeteria. It felt like a blade cutting across skin, forcing a chill into every inmate. Ashe remembered their last encounter, and the sensation of a sword piercing his chest surged back with vivid clarity.

The hunter said with a mocking tone, "I am Bloodrage Hunter Gerald Westminster, Hunter No. 307791 of the Heresy Court."

He then added with a grin, "When you meet the Blood Moon Lord, don't forget to send him my regards."