Blood Artificer

Since arriving in this world, Ash had heard the term "Blood Moon Judgment" more than once.

At first, he thought it was a firing squad program.

Then, he thought it was a live-streamed firing squad program.

After that, he thought it was an online game show where a lucky audience member was randomly chosen to be executed.

Now, Ash felt that the Blood Moon Judgment was likely a variety show featuring no-holds-barred fighting.

"Yes, when death row inmates participate in the Blood Moon Judgment, the prison lifts all your restrictions, at which point you can use spell power to drive your spell spirits."

The Healer reached out, and a kind-eyed grandma spell spirit manifested in her palm.

"If you're asking if there's any chance for a deal during the Blood Moon Judgment, theoretically, yes, but no one has ever managed it. As for why, I don't think I need to explain, do I? It's not like you haven't watched the Blood Moon Judgment before."

"I haven't watched it!"

"Don't think you can fool me so easily!" The Healer practically roared, "I'm not going to believe such a moronic lie!"

At this point, the Healer refused to leak any more information; Ash's clumsy lie made her feel that her dignity had been insulted. It was one thing to lie, but to use a lie that even a child wouldn't fall for—who did he think he was looking down on?

Ash felt wronged as well. He really hadn't watched the Blood Moon Judgment, but everyone here treated it as basic common knowledge that required no introduction.

Since he couldn't trick any information out of her, Ash prepared to go get some food, but the Healer wouldn't let him leave just yet.

"Why did you ask about that elf earlier? Are you worried about him?"

"Calling it 'worry' is a bit embarrassing; I'm just a little curious."

Ash scratched the tender new flesh on his shoulder. "After all, he counts as the first person I've killed. Isn't it said that murderers always return to the scene of the crime to watch? I'm in a similar state of mind."

"Really? He was actually your first?"

"The way you put that is really misleading..."

"You're a death row inmate who can afford a luxury suite in Broken Lake Prison! For you, destroying a life shouldn't be as simple as eating or dressing, and torturing a soul shouldn't be as habitual as breathing, right?"

"I may not be a good person, but I really am innocent!"

"I'll believe the first half of that for now."

The Healer looked down at the spell spirit in her hand, seemingly weighing her words.

"Fine, I'll believe this was your first time killing someone. Then why do you care about that elf's life or death? Do you hope he survives, or do you hope he doesn't?"

"Both."

"Both?" The Healer couldn't help but laugh. "You hope he is both dead and alive?"

"Honestly, my grudge against him hasn't reached the point where he absolutely must die. If possible, I'd rather beat him up with a geoduck-shaped club to vent my anger, and since I have questions I want to ask him, I don't particularly want him to die."

Ash shrugged. "But if he really is dead, I'd probably just sigh before going to sleep tonight, thinking that life is like the ocean and only those with a strong will can reach the other shore... So even if he dies, I won't care that much."

"I'm starting to believe this was your first time killing someone," the Healer said. "Your way of putting it pleases no one. If this were a public case review, saying you're soft-hearted would earn you the concern of human rights organizations, and saying you're ruthless would earn you the support of extremist groups. Only this kind of wishy-washy, indecisive statement will be despised and rejected by everyone."

"It seems the outside world isn't easy to navigate either," Ash sighed. "But how many people in this world are truly decisive? Aren't most people just as indecisive as I am?"

The Healer paused for a moment, then shrugged. "It's not that there aren't indecisive people, but you need the capital to be indecisive—for example, being good-looking!"

The Healer pulled out an album and flipped through it rapidly in front of Ash. "Look, these are the templates for handsome men that have been popular over the last five years. Do you want to pick one for your new face? I highly recommend this Face No. 1; it's very popular and nine-tenths similar to a current hit singer. You'll definitely like this face..."

"It's clearly you who likes this face!"

"So what if I like it? If you get this face, you're the one who benefits!"

"Who says? I don't look in a mirror all day; I can't see my own face, so what good does it do me to be good-looking? On the contrary, other people look at me all day. They get the pleasure, and I have to endure their lecherous gazes. Do you think I'd be willing to do such a self-sacrificing, stupid thing?"

Ash's argument was so sound that even the Healer was convinced. Her raven mask drooped, and she said dejectedly, "Fine, you're right..."

"However," Ash changed his tone, "the fact that you were willing to listen to my grievances and chat with me for so long is the only warmth I've felt in this cold prison. Since it's a request from a friend, I suppose I could agree..."

"What, are we friends?"

"If not, then I'm leaving..."

"Alright, alright. So you're willing to let me perform the surgery on you?"

"Actually, I'm not that willing..." Ash put on a hesitant expression. "I'm quite fond of my current face. After all, I've looked at it for so many years; I have some attachment to it..."

"So...?"

"It's going to cost extra."

"No problem!"

The Healer breathed a sigh of relief. "When should we start the surgery? Wait, there are some techniques I'm not quite familiar with yet. You wait for me to review them over the next two nights... Don't worry, it's very safe. My spell spirit can effectively prevent malignant issues like flesh collapse!"

Ash twitched his lips. "I, I'm very reassured. I'll be going now, take your time preparing, don't rush!"

Spell power was the universal energy for spellcasters, and money was the universal energy for society. Although he hadn't seen any hope for a prison break yet, Ash had to find a way to scrape together some money for backup. Needless to say, the death row inmates were all broke, living off the state. Therefore, after much thought, Ash felt his only remaining option was to trade his face for money.

It was just that, looking at it now, the cost seemed a bit high. The chance of his face rotting was quite high, and Ash was getting cold feet.

No wonder the Healers weren't allowed to reveal their names; perhaps it was to prepare for an anonymous getaway. After honing their skills by causing numerous medical accidents in the prison, they could just pack up and leave, and the death row inmates wouldn't even know who to blame.

Ash walked to the door, then suddenly turned back to look around the treatment room.

"Come to think of it, I've wanted to ask for a long time—are you being ostracized by your colleagues?"

"Huh?"

"How come every time I wake up, you're the only one here? Where are the other Healers?" Ash guessed, "Did they dump the most troublesome work on you and then just clock out?"

"No—though it is true that you are the most troublesome work."

"Are you sure? If you're being ostracized or bullied by your colleagues, remember to tell me."

The Healer looked at Ash and let out a soft laugh.

"Why would I tell you?"

"Aren't we friends? Friends are the people who can stand by and gloat when the other person encounters misfortune."

"Get lost, get lost, get lost!"

Ash waved goodbye, "Well, Doctor 222, see you next time. The apple was delicious, thank you."

Silence returned to the Treatment Room. The Healer packed up her toolkit and pushed open the door leading to the common lounge—the Healer's activity area did not overlap with the Death Row Inmates at all—and then she saw a group of Healers wearing Raven Masks waiting outside.

The Healer was startled, nearly thinking they had come to hold her accountable.

But as she looked closer, she noticed that one person in the group of Healers was not wearing a Raven Mask. Judging by his build and his ID badge, it was 176, the tall Healer who usually scolded her. He had the appearance of a Blue Scale Fishman, though his eyes were a brilliant, scarlet red, like sparkling rubies.

176 was not only maskless, but his hands were also bound behind his back. There were visible bruises on his face, and a Dark Green foam necklace was wrapped around his neck.

The Healer knew exactly what that was.

Miracle · Venous Foam.

This was the most commonly used offensive miracle for a Blood Artificer, combining entrapment and execution, capable of sustained casting for long periods. Once a target was struck by Venous Foam, their entire venous system would be linked to the foam. If the foam shattered, it meant every vein in the body would burst simultaneously, causing the heart to lose blood supply and leading to sudden death.

As long as one was a practitioner, even the weakest among them possessed the ability to instantly extinguish life.

Being fitted with Venous Foam was a treatment reserved for criminals.

"What did he do?"

"He peeked at Miss's healing techniques."

A Healer with the ID badge 201 bowed to report, his respect evident even through the voice modulation of his Raven Mask.

"Attempting to steal the intellectual property of the Blood Tears Research Institute without permission violates the constitutional principle that 'individual and collective property is inviolable.' It is an indisputable crime."