Sorcerer’s Handbook

Five Wings.

The graceful and radiant figure is bathed in such brilliance and sanctity, dazzling so intensely that one dares not look directly, so lofty that one dares not raise their head. The sky is crumbling, pouring out black mud, and the earth has already overturned, spilling a sea of blood. It is the only light in this world, holding up the collapsing heavens and mending the fragmented, broken abyss.

A Demigod Angel?

No, it’s a Five-Winged Deity. Igor was quite certain of this. Although he had never seen an Angel before, and both Angels and deities are unimaginable non-human entities for humans, there is one thing clear from legends and myths: Angels are sorcerers that transcend humanity, whereas deities are merely personified rules.

Anyone witnessing this being, who painted the world with color, would not think it still harbored any human nature. After all, when you feel the sun’s intense heat, you don’t think it’s licking you. Igor saw it standing in the apocalyptic world as if he were seeing the sun rise from a grave.

What are its rules? What does it want? What’s happening to this world…

More importantly-what does it have to do with me?

Igor’s final doubt was soon resolved.

Swish!

A sword pierced through its chest. It seemed to emit a silent scream, but it did nothing to halt the brutal assault. The long sword pinned it to a decrepit stone monument, and the sword light, black as a serpent, swept across its wings, transforming into black steel chains that tightly bound its body, locking it down like a slave!

And on the other end of the chain, stood a man in a dark red trench coat and a mask.

He was… slaying a deity!

As a sorcerer, he was hunting down the Five Wings!

The figure appeared familiar, yet he seemed utterly unrecognizable to Igor. Because this God-slayer, fixated on the deity he had chained, had a look of vengeful hatred in his eyes that made Igor shiver with fear.

It wasn’t the notorious ‘Cult Leader’ or the world-destroying ‘Source of Calamity,’ but the differences between those labels and this person were so vast, like seeing Lala Fatty dressed as a warrior or disguised as a dancer, causing immense cognitive dissonance.

He could never associate that person with those two evil titles, only considering it a dull joke.

But this one was different.

This God-slaying marauder, like a vengeful spirit, gave Igor the illusion that perhaps… this was the hidden side of that person’s potential.

The God-slayer suddenly turned his head, his gaze fixing on Igor. His eyes held less hatred and more cold detachment. He left the deity pinned to the stone wall, dragging the chain with his right hand as he walked towards Igor. With each step he took, the chain tightened, and the deity’s wail seemed to stretch out.

He reached Igor and extended his left hand. Surprisingly, Igor felt no fear. It wasn’t because he believed this man wouldn’t hurt him, but more of a sense of release.

Like finally being pulled away from a horrible all-you-can-eat buffet.

“Hmm?”

Igor opened his eyes to see Ashe ruffling his hair, a warm green glow shimmering in his palm. At the other end of the bath, Harvey was soaking while voraciously eating Lala Fatty. Each bite radiated a greenish life energy, and Lala Fatty vanished quickly in his mouth. On his right side were several emptied plates, and to his left, a dozen more plates piled with various meats.

“…-How long was I asleep?”

“About ten minutes,” Ashe said, retracting his hand with a smile. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you sleep so soundly. This is a bathhouse in a foreign land, yet you seemed to be right at home.”

“I wouldn’t sleep this deeply under the Blood Moon,” Igor paused, “and besides, I don’t have a home.”

“You do now, as long as someone is thinking about you, you have a place to return to,” Ashe replied. “Were you too tired? Lise intended to help get you out of the Gospel, she should’ve given you a chance to rest, right?”

Igor shot him a look. “I used the Rainbow Tail Feather of the Rust Crow, dying after exploring the Distant Sky Domain for a bit. I can’t enter the Virtual Realm anymore.”

“But you can still sleep.”

“Leaving the Gospel for another stretch of unknown journey, do you think we don’t need to prepare? Lise gave us a fast-track shopping channel. My Spatial Card is filled with emergency supplies, thinking they wouldn’t be needed… Harvey’s Spatial Card can’t be counted on, that coffin takes up most of the space.”

“But Harvey told me he managed to take a nap, so there was enough time.”

“My nerves are a bit more delicate. Unlike those who can sleep in a grave and take life so lightly,” the Con Artist grumbled, “I can’t rest easy with them around.”

He paused, then quickly asked, “Why are you ruffling my hair?”

“Healing,” Ashe summoned the Healing Sword. “Did you have a good dream?”

Igor recalled the scene from his dream. Although much of it had faded, he still vividly remembered the hatred in the God-slayer’s eyes. Was it just a simple dream or influenced by the spirit of ‘Revelation’?

The Prophecy Sect! Anyone who has experienced the Weaving Festival would definitely yearn for the spellcasting sects of prophecy, fate, and truth, especially someone like Igor, who possesses a spirit of the Prophecy Sect. It’s like reading a detective novel where a character says, ‘I know who the killer is,’ only for that character to immediately die, and then the author also dies, leaving the story unfinished. That’s how Igor felt now.

Worse than not seeing the future is seeing just a glimpse of it.

But if Igor had to choose, he’d still pick the latter-seeking bliss through ignorance is too easy for him. Emma, Anfel, or even a random person on the street-who could refuse a Con Artist’s deceit? But he’s the kind of madman who would rather wallow in confusion and seek genuine emotion in the absurd.

Putting the dream aside for now, Igor looked around, raising an eyebrow. “Is this the rear hall of the Tribulation Fire Temple?”

“Correct,” Ashe said, sinking into the bath and stretching underwater. “We have about half an hour left to rest.”

“Let me summarize our current situation,” Igor quickly focused, “First, we were summoned by the Tribulation Fire Temple as the First Gospel.”

“As the First Gospel with two useless followers,” Ashe corrected.

Igor brought his hand down sharply, splashing water onto the face of the Cult Leader, and continued, “So, the Tribulation Fire Temple believes the First Gospel will help them. There could be several reasons for this: perhaps the Divine Sovereign or an Angel commanded it, or maybe it’s due to the inherent nature of the First Gospel… In any case, they don’t doubt our identity, which we could potentially use to our advantage. If we play our cards right, I could even walk away with the temple’s assets, sparkling clean.”

“However, just as we arrived, the Tribulation Fire Temple’s enemies-the Four Pillars Cult-attacked. The temple has unwavering faith that the First Gospel can handle the Four Pillars Cult, so we’re immediately faced with a challenge. Whether we like it or not, we have to deal with the Four Pillars Cult, unless they are willing to listen to our explanation and let us go.”

Ashe splashed some water on his face and said, “Though I’d love to hold out hope for the Four Pillars Cult, considering the lesson I learned from the Eternal Presence, I’d better deem them as downright villains.”

“While I don’t usually rely on others, don’t you have any use for your résumé?” the Con Artist complained. “It’s fine if you can’t earn trust within a subsidiary, but why does every place you go target you first? Have you offended the four permanent directors of your company?”

“The Four Pillars Cult is attacking the Tribulation Fire Temple. What does that have to do with me?” Ashe retorted with a sense of injustice. “You saw how the Eternal Presence treated me. Every branch of the Four Pillars Cult is extremely territorial, as if afraid others will poach their business. They absolutely don’t welcome freeloaders like me. In fact, revealing my work history might get me killed even faster.”

Igor sighed. Despite being used to dealing with unexpected events, the overwhelming scale and high stakes of this chaotic whirlpool-without any time to prepare-left even the Con Artist feeling overpowered.

He submerged himself in the bath for a moment, then came up, pushing his hair back. “I can’t believe you could say something like ‘I need a bath’ at a time like that.”

Even after receiving the urgent news from the red-robed priest about the Four Pillars Cult’s invasion, Ashe remained completely unflustered. He calmly asked how long the temple could hold out. Upon hearing they had a minimum of 60 minutes, he actually expressed his desire for a bath.

Perhaps Ashe’s composure was truly contagious, or maybe the title of the First Gospel was too prestigious. The red-robed priests didn’t raise any objections and hastily arranged a bath for them, allowing Ashe and his two companions to steal some leisure time amid the chaos.