The Sea of Knowledge, Virtual Realm.
"A moonshadow werewolf that can't transform under moonlight… Your prison is a treasure trove of talent. Truly fitting for a multi-racial nation," Sonia remarked as she reclined at the bow of their small boat, staring up at the misty sky.
"But what's the deal with the Gourmet's ritual? I've never heard of such a gruesome and bizarre ceremony. Is he trying to summon a gluttony-based sorcery spirit?"
In theory, the easiest type of sorcery for a sorcerer to master isn't the external magic disciplines like fire, earth, or swordsmanship—disciplines that require deliberate practice to gain experience. Instead, it's the internal disciplines that grow naturally, even without training.
Internal magic revolves around innate, everyday activities: eating, sleeping, listening, observing, even relieving oneself. If these mundane actions could convert into magical experience, nearly every sorcerer would be a master of seven or eight disciplines.
Theoretically.
In practice, internal disciplines are far more difficult to master than external ones. No matter how challenging, external disciplines can be learned with effort. But internal disciplines are mostly tied to innate racial traits. If you aren't born with the talent, you'll never master one on your own.
Sonia's mention of the Gluttony Discipline referred to one such internal discipline, often exclusive to ogres. And even among ogres, only a small percentage randomly awaken the ability.
"These disciplines can't be taught," Sonia continued. "You can't exactly 'teach' someone how to eat or sleep. They're tied to personal desires, emotional shifts, and personality traits. It's all 'felt' rather than 'taught.'"
Her theory wasn't far-fetched. Gluttony and the act of eating were closely connected. Many believed ogres' affinity for gluttony-based sorcery stemmed from their diet, which often included humans.
"I agree Ronna's ritual centers on consumption," Ash mused from the stern of the boat, biting his fingernail. "But Igula has a different take—he thinks the real core of the ritual isn't consumption but love."
"Love?" Sonia raised a brow.
"Ever farmed before?"
If it were anyone else, Sonia might have taken the question as a double insult. First, it implied she—a glamorous young sorceress—might have worked the fields. Second, it mocked her rural upbringing by suggesting she hadn't.
"…Just explain it. I'll follow."
"Igula believes Ronna is farming," Ash said, stretching his legs. "He plants a seed of love in his target's heart. Through the most visceral and bloody form of intimacy—consumption—he fertilizes and nurtures the seed, helping it grow rapidly."
"Even if Ronald won't admit it, he's clearly losing interest in everything else," Ash continued. "The only thing that excites him now is participating in Ronna's ritual. Even if Ronna changes the menu, Ronald would probably write his name on it voluntarily."
Sonia shuddered at the thought. "So, when this 'seed of love' matures, what does Ronna harvest? Souls?"
"Igula isn't sure, but it likely involves souls—though it's not just that," Ash said. "Either way, it's between those two. For us, the takeaway is simple: Ronna and Ronald have an unbreakable bond, and that's something we can use."
"So, convincing Ronald was essentially a package deal for recruiting Ronna," Sonia noted. "But they're both dangerous death row inmates. Are you sure about this?"
Ronald, the Golden Mouth of the Woodpecker Gang, was a master of traps, marksmanship, and hidden weaponry. Ronna, on the other hand, was a moonshadow werewolf—a force to be reckoned with even among advanced two-wing sorcerers.
Compared to them, Ash and Igula seemed like two helpless lambs. Once outside the prison's protective walls, the two would likely be at their mercy.
"Prisons aren't exactly talent agencies," Ash replied dryly. "I don't have many options. Finding two strong, willing escape partners is already a stroke of luck. I can't afford to be picky about their morals. Let's just hope the prison's rehabilitation programs worked wonders."
He chuckled bitterly. "It's ironic. I need the prison to fail enough to find escape partners, but succeed enough to turn them into model citizens after the escape."
"Still," he added, stretching on the boat, "Igula's more concerned about safety than I am. He's already planted suggestions in Ronald's mind, heightening his sense of danger. It's not manipulation, per se—just helping Ronald realize that unless he kills Ronna, his desire to be consumed by him will never disappear."
"So, once you all escape, they'll tear each other apart?" Sonia asked, kicking Ash's outstretched legs.
"Not just that," Ash admitted with a laugh. "If possible, Igula will probably use them to distract the Crimson Hunters while he slips away. And let's not forget—he still holds one of my wishes."
"You haven't dealt with that yet?"
"It's complicated," Ash sighed. "Wishes can't be too extreme—they must be something feasible and not inherently repulsive. He can't demand I 'kill myself,' for instance."
"But even reasonable requests can screw me over. If Igula orders me to 'cover the rear' during the escape, I'll have no choice. Even if an army of Crimson Hunters is charging, I'll have to stand and fight until it looks convincing."
"And what's your plan after the escape?" Sonia asked.
"Roughly? Track down this body's enemy—a certain Professor Sheerin. See if I can get revenge. If not, at least rob him blind. After that… survive."
"That's a glorified wing it. Isn't the outside world even more dangerous? At least in prison, you're safe most of the time."
"It's about taking calculated risks for long-term gains," Ash explained, adopting a mock-professional tone. "Leveraging causal analysis to maximize potential outputs—"
"Speak human."
"It means I'd rather struggle on a path I chose than rot in a cell," Ash said simply. "Regret is a problem for future me. Right now, I only care about not giving myself a reason to regret."
"You should cry about it more. I'd love to watch."
Ash smirked. "Well, I've got you, don't I?"
"Me? I'm useless."
Ash grinned. "The stronger you get, the stronger I get. So, if you don't want to be stuck exploring the Virtual Realm solo, start training harder. Stop clocking out on time. Push yourself!"
"Now that you've said it, I feel like slacking off even more," Sonia quipped, stretching lazily. "So, are you done recovering your energy?"
"Almost."
Earlier, a juvenile Abyss Bubble Dragon had attacked them. It took nearly all their energy to drive it off, forcing them to rest.
Ash checked the Virtual Realm map. The surrounding 24 tiles were marked as Wasted Effort zones—no rewards to be gained. With no clear direction, they'd have to rely on luck.
"Wait—what?"
Sonia turned to him. "What's wrong?"
Ash quickly clamped a hand over her mouth and motioned for silence.
After a tense pause, Sonia whispered, "Another sorcerer nearby?"
Ash nodded, his gaze fixed on the misty sea. On the map, a yellow marker—identical to their own—had suddenly appeared in an adjacent zone.
...
Ten meters away, within the dense white fog, a small Gate of Truth opened.
A figure tumbled out, nearly plunging into the sea before exploding into a cloud of smoke. Moments later, a tiny bat emerged, flapping its wings frantically as it flew forward.