Blood Artificer

Ever since coming to this world, Ash had heard the term "Blood Moon Judgment" more than once.

At first, he thought it was an execution program.

Then, he thought it was a livestreamed execution program.

After that, he thought it was an online betting program where a lucky viewer was randomly picked to be executed.

Now, Ash felt that Blood Moon Judgment was probably a no-holds-barred fighting variety livestream.

"Yes. When Death Row Inmates participate in Blood Moon Judgment, the Prison will lift all your restrictions. At that time, you can use Spell Power to activate your Spell Spirits."

The Healer held out her hand, and a kind-eyed grandma Spell Spirit appeared in her palm.

"If you're asking whether there are opportunities for deals during Blood Moon Judgment, then theoretically, yes, there are. But nobody can actually pull it off. As for why, I don't need to explain, do I? It's not like you haven't watched Blood Moon Judgment."

"I haven't watched it!"

"Don't think I'm really that easy to fool!" the Healer practically roared. "I'm not falling for such an idiotic lie!"

After that, the Healer refused to reveal any more information. Ash's clumsy lie had made her feel that her dignity had been insulted. Lying was one thing, but using a lie that not even a child would believe? Who was he looking down on?

Ash felt wronged too. He really had never watched Blood Moon Judgment, but everyone here treated it as basic common knowledge that needed no introduction.

Since he couldn't get any information out of her, Ash prepared to go eat. But the Healer stopped him from leaving.

"Why did you ask about that Elf just now? Are you worried about him?"

"Calling it worry would be a little embarrassing. I'm just somewhat concerned."

Ash scratched at the tender new flesh on his shoulder. "After all, he was technically the first person I killed. Don't they say murderers always return to the scene of the crime to watch? I guess I'm in roughly the same state of mind."

"Really? He was your first time?"

"The way you said that is seriously misleading..."

"You're a death row inmate who can stay in the luxury suite at Broken Lake Prison! Shouldn't destroying lives be as easy as getting dressed and eating for you? Shouldn't torturing souls be as habitual as breathing?"

"I may not be a good person, but I really was framed!"

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

The Healer lowered her head to look at the Spell Spirit in her hand, seemingly choosing her words.

"All right, I'll believe it was your first time killing someone. Then why do you care whether that Elf lives or dies? Do you hope he won't survive, or do you hope he can't die?"

"Both."

"Both?" The Healer couldn't help laughing. "You want him to be dead and alive at the same time?"

"Honestly, the grudge between us hasn't reached the point where I absolutely need him dead. If possible, I'd rather beat him viciously with a geoduck-shaped soft club to vent my anger. Plus, I have questions to ask him, so I don't really want him to die."

Ash shrugged. "But if he really dies, I'd probably just sigh before going to sleep tonight that life is like the ocean, and only those with strong wills can reach the opposite 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. "That kind of answer pleases neither side. During the case disclosure stage, if you say you were softhearted, you'll gain the concern of Human Rights organizations. If you say you cut the weeds and pulled out the roots, you'll gain the support of extremist groups. Only this vague, indecisive answer will make every organization dislike and despise you."

"Looks like it's not easy to get by in the outside world either," Ash sighed. "But how can there be so many extreme, decisive people in this world? Aren't most people as indecisive as I am?"

The Healer froze slightly, then shrugged. "It's not that indecisive people don't exist, but you need the capital to be indecisive. For example—being good-looking!"

The Healer pulled out an album and flipped through it in front of Ash. "Look, these are the popular handsome-guy templates from the past five years. Want to choose one as your new face? I especially recommend this Face No. 1. It's extremely popular and bears a ninety-percent resemblance to a current hit singer. You'll definitely love this face..."

"You're obviously the one who likes that face!"

"So what if I like it? If you get this face done, you'll be the one benefiting!"

"Who says? I'm not going to stare at a mirror all day. Usually, I can't even see my own face, so what use is being handsome? Other people are the ones looking at me all day. They enjoy it, while I have to endure their lecherous gazes. Do you think I'd be willing to do something so stupidly self-sacrificing?"

Ash's argument was so reasonable that even the Healer was persuaded. Her Raven Mask drooped as she lowered her head in dejection. "All right, you're right..."

"However," Ash abruptly changed his tune, "you were willing to listen to my grievances and talk to me for so long. You're the only warmth I've felt in this apathetic Prison. Since it's a friend's request, it's not like I can't agree..."

"What? We're friends?"

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

"All right, all right, so you're willing to let me operate on you?"

"It's not that I'm particularly willing..." Ash put on a hesitant expression. "I still quite like my current face. After looking at it for so many years, I've developed some attachment to it..."

"So...?"

"You'll have to pay more."

"No problem!"

The Healer breathed a sigh of relief. "When should we start the operation? Wait, there are some Spell Formulas I'm not very familiar with yet. Give me these next two nights to review them... Don't worry, it'll be very safe. My Spell Spirit can effectively prevent serious problems like the collapse of flesh and blood!"

Ash tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I-I'm very reassured. I'll leave first, then. Take your time preparing. Don't rush!"

Spell Power was a Spellcaster's universal energy, and money was society's universal energy. Although he had yet to see any hope of a Prison Break, Ash still had to find a way to make some money for later. The Death Row Inmates went without saying—they were all poor bastards living off the state. After thinking it over, Ash felt that selling his face was his only remaining path to money.

But now, the price seemed a little too steep. The chance of ending up with a ruined face was extremely high, and Ash was getting cold feet.

No wonder Healers weren't allowed to reveal their names. Maybe it was so they could prepare to flee anonymously—after causing countless medical accidents in the Prison and honing their skills, they could simply walk away. Even if the Death Row Inmates wanted to curse them out, they wouldn't know whom to blame.

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

"Come to think of it, I've wanted to ask for a long time—are your coworkers ostracizing you?"

"Huh?"

"Why was it only you both times I woke up? Where are the other Healers?" Ash guessed. "Did they dump the hardest jobs on you, then clock out and leave?"

"No—but it is true that you're the hardest job."

"Really not? If your coworkers are excluding and boycotting you, remember to tell me."

The Healer looked at Ash and burst out laughing.

"Why would I tell you?"

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

"Get out, get out, get out!"

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

The treatment room returned to silence. After putting away her toolbox, the Healer pushed open the door leading to the public rest room—the Healers' activity area did not overlap with that of the Death Row Inmates at all—and saw a group of Raven Mask-wearing Healers waiting outside.

The Healer jumped in fright, nearly thinking they had come to hold her accountable.

But after looking closely, she noticed that one person among the Healers was not wearing a Raven Mask. Judging by his build and badge, he was the tall Healer 176, who always scolded her. His appearance was that of a Blue Scale Fishman, but his eyes were entirely crimson, glittering like rubies.

Not only was 176 not wearing a mask, his hands were cuffed behind his back. There were obvious bruises on his face, and a dark green bubble necklace around his neck.

The Healer knew very well what it was.

Miracle: Vein Bubble.

This was the Blood Artificer's most commonly used offensive Miracle, combining restraint and killing in one and capable of being maintained for a long time. Once struck by Vein Bubble, a target's veins throughout the body would connect to the bubble. The moment the bubble burst, all of their veins would explode at once, their heart would rapidly lose its blood supply, and they would die suddenly.

Any Spellcaster, even the weakest one, possessed the power to instantly extinguish a life.

Being fitted with a Vein Bubble was treatment reserved for criminals.

"What did he do?"

"He secretly observed your healing Spell Formula, Miss."

A Healer with the badge 201 bowed as he reported. Even the voice distortion of his Raven Mask could not conceal his respect.

"Attempting to steal the Blood Tears Research Institute's intellectual achievements without permission violates the constitutional principle that 'private and collective property is sacred and inviolable.' It is unquestionably a crime."