The Sorcerer's Handbook

Chapter 240: Toll from Hell

The Star Shepherd, Demilo, rode atop the Scorpion Dragon, directing his legion in orderly formation as they entered Compound Resource Point 73—the Cavern. At the entrance, the Feral Wolf Dragon was still nowhere to be seen, prompting Demilo to suspect that it had already been wiped out.

Are the ones responsible the passing sorcerers, or the wandering Crystal Wyverns nearby? Either one is possible, but it doesn't matter. Any unit assigned to guard a Resource Point is little more than another expendable line item. How many Scorpion Dragons are even left to garrison this place?

Sensing an impending reshuffling, the Scorpion Dragons grew restless, while the Thousand-Feathered Birds remained unbothered, perching on one leg to rest and preening one another. As the only long-range unit under Demilo's command, they enjoyed privileges akin to pampered lovers.

Reaching the cavern's main hall, Demilo waved his hand, signaling the Scorpion Dragons to move the supplies. The intelligent creatures sensed that the outcome of this task could determine whether they would rot away in this cavern or continue to enjoy life under the Star Shepherd. Their morale surged as they scavenged the cavern with their scorpion tails curling high in anticipation.

Demilo felt the shifts in his minions' emotions but paid them no mind. He gestured for his mount to settle, and the Scorpion Dragon obediently lowered its body. Its tail looped like a rollercoaster, the tip resting perfectly against its back to form a pillow for Demilo.

Closing his eyes, Demilo sifted through snippets from his memory album for entertainment. Inevitably, his gaze returned to a dream he had revisited a thousand times and seemed destined to revisit a thousand more.

It was a memory from when he was thirteen, the darkest time of his life. Demilo had been born into the Lieba family, a name that now meant nothing to him. By the time he was eleven, his family had been destroyed by his uncle's corruption, and his parents had been caught up in the fallout. In those days, the nobility and royalty played a deadly game, racing to embezzle as much as they could while trying to catch their rivals in the act.

Young Demilo narrowly escaped to a maid's home to evade the law. In one swift shift, he went from noble heir to orphan under the care of a servant, crammed into the smallest, filthiest storage room. He grew up fast, eating less and working more, all while keeping his head down. In two years, he endured double the hardship he should have faced in the prior ten. Fate, it seemed, was a harsh lender, and the extra suffering was the interest it demanded.

When he was thirteen, the maid told him she had found a suitable apprenticeship. Two burly men, resembling blacksmiths, took him to the notorious Pigeon Fish Cage, a place known for vice. There, male workers were called White Pigeons, and the female workers were called Grass Fish. Demilo didn't understand the terms at first, but it didn't take long for him to learn their meaning.

When a cruel gang boss explained the truth of his work, Demilo felt neither fear nor anger. He accepted it calmly. Perhaps he had already anticipated Fate's intentions when he saw the maid's husband's complaints, his venomous expression, and the maid's apologetic eyes. Yes, Fate was about to collect its due. As a fugitive, the only thing he had left was the freedom to consent or die.

The gang boss outlined his duties. For a boy of his appearance, he could spy, assassinate, frame targets, or, if lucky, be purchased by a wealthy patron. Selling his body was expected; overtime and extra tasks were standard. If the authorities caught him, claiming innocence would be pointless.

Dreaming of surviving to become someone's prized possession, Demilo entered one of the highest-floor rooms of the Pigeon Fish Cage staff quarters. Warm yellow walls, a crackling stove, patchwork wine-red sofas, and a low table scattered with snacks and drinks greeted him. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling balcony window, setting dancing dust into motion like a stage performance. The floor was clean, probably maintained regularly. Compared to the storage room, this was a massive upgrade. At least he was safe from midnight rat invasions.

At that moment, a tall, curvy girl leaned forward, touching the remnant of his noble upbringing. "Wow, your skin is so pale! So smooth and soft..."

A cute boy, seemingly younger, leapt up with fists clenched in excitement. "Finally, a newcomer? Do I get to be a senior?"

"No, you're still the youngest," a quiet girl on the far sofa said, setting down her book. "Drink more milk and grow up faster."

Her book had no words, only vivid, blood-pumping images.

Is she really still studying even after work?

The cute boy pouted. "But the milk tastes weird..."

"Ah, I completely forgot!"

The balcony door slid open, and a stunning figure wearing a loose shirt and very short shorts stepped inside. For a moment, it was impossible to tell whether it was a he or a she; gender seemed utterly irrelevant. Carrying a tray of freshly laundered clothes, they exuded a cozy yet undeniably alluring aura. The warm orange light spilling in from outside clung to their form, casting a sacred radiance over them[1].

"The boss said new people would arrive this morning, but everyone was asleep, so we didn't have time to prepare food. Work starts tonight, so why not hold a welcome party this afternoon?"

"Is that something worth celebrating?" the quiet girl asked, voicing Demilo's thoughts.

The tall girl and the cute boy cheered in unison. "Yay, party!"

Demilo asked, "Are we co-ed?"

"Yes. The boss said all-male or all-female dorms are a hassle. With mixed dorms, we can supervise each other, which also avoids a lot of trouble. According to him, that's his management secret."

Mixed dorms came with risks, but here, it didn't matter.

"Then, let's move on to the next step!" the beautiful figure said, setting down the tray. "I'll help you choose a new name, one that's fitting for a newcomer."

The others groaned. "Not again..."

Demilo nodded readily. "It's about time I take a new name... to leave my old self behind."

The figure chuckled. "A new name isn't about abandoning the past. It's about embracing the future. Our earliest names weren't ours to choose, yet they follow us our entire lives. Choosing a new name means taking control of your future and bidding farewell to the fate that once hated you."

If he weren't in the staff quarters of the Pigeon Fish Cage, Demilo might have nodded in agreement.

"So... do you want me to give you a new name?"

"Whatever you like," he replied.

"Perfect!"

The figure pulled a worn book from the shelf. Its frayed pages spoke of frequent use.

"What's that book?" Demilo asked.

"It's the Collection of Star Poems. A poet gave every star a name and meaning. It's perfect for picking a new name!"

"Every star... Wouldn't that mean at least thousands, or maybe even millions of names?"

"It's even more than that! You can choose any good name you like. For example, Anlilian, which symbolizes the fragrance of ink on book pages."

The quiet girl tilted her head.

"Or Roya, which represents the warmth and joy of sunlight."

The cute boy lifted his chin. He radiated a warm, gentle aura, even without the sun shining directly on him.

"Or Shilena, meaning the rainbow-colored butterfly."

The tall girl stood on tiptoe and spun, her skirt flaring like wings, just as her name suggested.

"Then... ah, it's decided!" The beautiful figure hastily chose the name that would follow him for life. "Demilo! From now on, you shall be called Demilo!"

"Does it have a meaning?"

With a smile, the figure replied, "Demilo stands for 'the reef in a raging current.' It represents someone who can never be swept away by fate."

"And you? What's your name?"

Anlilian, Roya, and Shilena all exchanged looks that seemed to say, Finally, it's happening.

"As for me... I'm extraordinary!"

The beautiful figure leapt onto the sofa, striking a triumphant pose as if about to transform. "I am Vlozrada, a combination of 'Vloz,' meaning dominion, and 'Rada,' meaning conquest. My name means ruling fate and conquering everything!"

Demilo exchanged glances with the others. Despite meeting for the first time, they silently agreed. This person is absurdly dramatic.

Stepping closer, Vlozrada wrapped Demilo in a close embrace, giggling as they said, "In short, Demilo, welcome to your new life."

It was the first time in ages that Demilo felt warmth in an embrace. In that instant, his face, long hardened by fate, softened. Fate had stripped him of all assets, yet, paradoxically, granted him a loan despite his bankrupt credit.

This was Demilo's first meeting with Vlozrada, and also one of the most pivotal moments of his life.

Hissss—

The scraping of the Scorpion Dragons against the cavern floor snapped him from his reverie. Demilo opened his eyes and realized his right hand had lifted on its own, as if reaching for something intangible.

He touched his chest, but felt nothing. He whispered to himself, Soon... Soon! I'll remember what I truly felt in that moment. Soon, I would reclaim the beat of my heart.

This was the toll of crossing the six layers of Hell. Every soul had its emotions stripped away, leaving only pure memory to reach the Virtual World. The souls the Divine Lords "activated" were merely incomplete lives born from memory.

Having never truly possessed a body, they had no heartbeat, nor emotions. Even if he sifted through memory a thousand times, he could never truly feel what "Demilo" had felt. It was like trying to experience someone else's joy through their senses. Death's veil had separated him from his own memory.

The only solution was to reclaim the fragments trapped in Hell, repair the broken soul, and let the decayed heart beat again. And this miracle, without question, was something only the Divine Lord could accomplish. From the moment of his birth, he had been destined to fight for the Divine Lord.

Six layers of Hell, and six fragments. His accumulated merits were nearly enough for him to claim the first fragment. By then, he would understand why he cherished his first meeting with Vlozrada so deeply.

Soon... soon. It's already been a thousand years. A few decades are nothing...

Demilo turned his head to see the Scorpion Dragons acting rebelliously. They hadn't moved a single resource. Hmm... bold, indeed... No, something is not right.

Demilo went on guard, surveying his surroundings. A thin layer of powder coated the ground, and the cavern showed no trace of any materials. The Feral Wolf Dragon's entire family had vanished without a trace. Everything pointed to a single possibility—the resources had been moved.

Has a hostile legion sneaked in to loot? But this is the core region of the Star Hall. Any army sneaking in would be courting total annihilation. Or is this just the prelude to a large-scale invasion? The closest hostile force is the Blood Tomb. Could it be those troublesome madmen again?

During the past two Six Nations Wars, Demilo had crossed paths with the Blood Tomb guardians. Unlike Demilo himself, these guardians, also fragmented souls, seemed to possess no intelligence at all. The ghoul-like soldiers looked as if they had rotted and festered in the sewers.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

An unfamiliar roar of metal erupted at the cavern entrance. Demilo turned to see a steel behemoth smashing through the doorway, its razor-sharp front slicing through the Scorpion Dragons' armor like butter, crushing their defenses and charging toward him.

Thousand Feathers Barrage!

Demilo focused. The Thousand-Feathered Birds rose, launching dense volleys of feathered arrows. Each arrow, empowered by the Pierce spirit, was strong enough to annihilate large numbers of Knowledge Creatures.

The steel behemoth skidded to a halt, tires squealing, drawing a perfect doughnut-shaped arc. It stopped just before the arrow storm. A few arrows almost struck it, but were stopped short by the transparent shield protecting the operator inside.

The Scorpion Dragons quickly formed a defensive line in front of Demilo. Protecting their commander was paramount.

The Star Shepherd's gaze fell on the three operators inside the steel monstrosity. In that instant, both sides recognized each other's identities. Sorcerers, perhaps... Could the steel monster be a creation of Miracle? Are the sorcerers Mechanist Class? Alchemy Class? Or even Biology Class? That mount might have been modified from a Fish-Slaying Dragon.

Thoughts raced through Demilo's mind, but they did not hinder his command. With a single thought, the Scorpion Dragons and Thousand-Feathered Birds surged in coordinated attack, forming a pincer assault like crashing waves against the three reckless sorcerers.

He had no desire to speak with juniors. Even if they were seekers in the Virtual World like him, even if the Divine Lord placed no restrictions on communication, Demilo had no interest in exchanging a single word with beings born more than a thousand years later. His heroic soul desired only one thing: completion, and nothing else.

As for the real world above Hell, the Heroes treated it like an ex-lover they had long since unfollowed and blocked. They held no thoughts, no expectations, no hatred toward it. Only cold indifference remained. They no longer cared what became of the world they once inhabited.

Go back to your own place, the living.

The steel behemoth roared again. Five pipes extended from its rear, exploding with a crackling sound. Dark green gas spewed forth, nearly suffocating the entire cavern.

Facing the car-mounted pipes, Demilo bore the brunt of the jet of gas. His hair whipped into the air.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

Amid the steel beast's heavy roars came a clear, perfectly enunciated voice in the common sorcerer's language.

"Ah, nothing beats farting and running away afterward~."

Since awakening from the Eternal Dream a thousand years ago, this was the first human sentence Demilo had ever heard.

1. The pronoun "they" is used here as it should, as the person's gender is currently unknown. ☜