Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

He had only told Undine about the World Stone coordinates he possessed.

Undine must have reported it; it's not surprising that this secret was leaked, since there are even members of the Revival Society among the Miracle Wizards.

What truly intrigued D'Ago was...

"So who is it?"

His expression calmed down, and he simply sat down on the spot, squinting his eyes as his gaze swept over the figures moving around the scene.

"Has my life been preordained?"

"boom!"

A deafening roar sent shivers down people's spines, as if a corner of the lid of hell had been lifted.

The crimson flames didn't seem to be burning; rather, they resembled a pack of ravenous beasts tearing at the air and making crackling noises.

A large hand, as ferocious as a monster's claw, covered with a black shell resembling solidified magma, slowly loosened.

A charred corpse—who might have been a vibrant, proud, and self-important wizard just moments before—is now like a tattered sack, carelessly discarded on the ground.

The dust flying everywhere made this life seem less valuable than a grain of sand.

Iggyus stood there, or rather, the monster that was once called Iggyus stood there.

His figure had grown several times taller, like a moving volcano.

Two twisted horns on his forehead were the embodiment of evil; between the black lumps on his body, orange-gold light patterns shone, pulsating like breathing—that was power, and also disaster.

His eyes had lost their human black and white distinction, leaving only an almost pure gold, cold and greedy, the gaze of someone looking down on ants.

With each breath, a strong smell of sulfur bursts out, making one's throat tighten. This is probably the unique "body odor" of the strong in a world where the strong prey on the weak.

"@%……&*"

A short, swift incantation rang out, like the mournful cry of a lamb unwilling to be slaughtered.

Igesius jerked his head around, making a cracking sound in his neck.

His gaze locked onto a figure radiating green light—a third-ring wizard, desperately trying to defend his right to live with the dazzling green glow—those tangible arrows.

The energy fluctuations shook the void, appearing grand and imposing, yet with a touch of tragic grandeur.

However, in Igor's orange-gold eyes, there was only a violent mockery.

He didn't dodge, he didn't even bother to dodge. He went to meet them, as if walking towards a grand feast.

Terrifying flames scorched the air, leaving behind a blurry, distorted trail—it was space itself wailing.

"Boom!"

The green crystalline light collided with the crimson meteor, like an egg hitting a stone, shattering completely and despairingly.

Before the third-ring wizard could even fully process the shock on his face, a hideous hand had already pierced through his chest.

Igesius appeared behind him like a nightmare that had grown out of his shadow. His eyes were cruel, but his movements were like plucking a ripe fruit, slowly and with relish withdrawing his hand from the warm body.

Between his five fingers, he clutched a heart that was rapidly carbonizing.

That heart, which might have been pounding for its life just moments before, is now a smoking, charred lump.

Igesius opened his mouth and made a swallowing motion towards the collapsing body.

A half-illusory, blurry figure was forcibly pulled away. The soul screamed and twisted, but it could not resist the gaping maw of the abyss and was eventually slowly swallowed up.

In this wizarding world where power reigns supreme, people are eaten without spitting out bones; even the souls are chewed up and swallowed.

He closed his eyes, and a look of satisfaction appeared on his face, as if he were savoring a delicacy.

When he opened his eyes again, the orange-gold in his dark eye sockets shone even brighter, and the flames around him were even hotter, as if a piece of firewood called "life" had just been added.

This small area fell silent.

Aside from charcoal, there were only corpses.

Some people in the surrounding space retreated in fear, those were terrified onlookers; others roared through the mirror-like void walls, those were helpless trapped beasts, casting dazzling but useless spells, as if setting off fireworks for this massacre.

Igesius remained calm as he strode through the void, leaving behind charred footprints, as if all obstacles in the world were nothing more than mud beneath his feet.

He looked around at the divided battlefield, where blood was flowing everywhere and people were fighting desperately.

"Rufus...German...Bakker..."

His gaze swept coldly over the names.

These geniuses, who were usually his equals, were either fighting hard or were seriously injured and dying.

Igesius licked his lips, his eyes revealing a deep longing.

He was a shrewd gourmet, knowing that the souls and flesh of these people were highly nourishing.

Unfortunately, current table manners do not allow him to use the knife—these people are bargaining chips, bargaining chips on the negotiating table for those big shots at the top, and it's not time for them to be cooked yet.

He looked away regretfully.

Just then, a silvery light descended, like a spotlight on a stage.

Several figures in black robes emerged from the crowd, exuding powerful auras; they were all third-ring wizards.

The leader removed his hood, revealing a fair and delicate baby face, and was playing with a spinning silver Rubik's Cube in his hand—it was Yadar.

Yadar stood on the battlefield strewn with corpses, oblivious to the bodies at his feet, his expression calm to the point of being cold-blooded.

This is probably what is meant by a "decent person"—even if their feet are stained with blood, they must still maintain a composed demeanor.

"Where's that bastard Ang?" Igor asked coldly, his tone revealing his dissatisfaction.

"I don't know." Yadar shook his head, his tone indifferent. "He disappeared after severely injuring Gehrman, and we can't get in touch with him."

"Hmph, he won't get any credit after successfully obtaining the World Stone!" Igesius said with a gloomy face. This was probably a sign of an unequal distribution of spoils.

Immediately, as if remembering something, he narrowed his eyes and looked towards a corner.

There, a boy sat quietly.

In this chaotic, noisy, and bloody battlefield, he remained as quiet as an outsider, as if everything around him was irrelevant.

"It's time to get the coordinates..."

Igesius's lips curled into a cruel smile as he strode toward the boy.

Gehrman frowned slightly, walking beside him: "Viser said no one can touch him?"

"Is this kid Viser's enemy?" Igesius glanced at him in surprise.

“No.” Yadar shook his head. “Viser wants to kill him himself… He has had a grudge against Viser for a long time.”

"Oh."

Igesius grinned silently, and without stopping, he left Yadar behind in a few steps.

"Then let Viser vent his anger on his relics... He won't even leave ashes in my hands."

He muttered under his breath, his tone full of arrogance, "A reptile that once dishonored the blood of the Balrog..."

At this moment, Dago sensed fluctuations in the space.

He looked up and saw Igsius, who was slowly entering the arena in the form of a fire demon, followed by Yadar and the others.

His eyes flickered slightly, like a pebble thrown into a deep pool.

All the previous doubts now seem to have been answered. So that's how it is, this is the so-called "oriole in disguise".

Dago slowly stood up, his movements unhurried. He straightened his clothes and calmly looked at the approaching enemy.

In fact, he could have broken free of this cage and left five minutes ago.

But he didn't leave; he just wanted to see which deity was playing tricks.

Now, he sees it.

Igesius tilted his head, scrutinizing Dago before him. A cruel and violent light slowly seeped from his orange-gold eyes, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue.

"I don't see the expression I'm looking for on your face..."

Igesius's lips curled up, revealing his gleaming white teeth, and his hoarse voice rang out in a low, malicious tone, like a cat toying with a mouse: "Honestly, I'm disappointed."

He wanted to see fear, to see pleas for mercy, to see the boy who had once annoyed him kneel on the ground and weep bitterly. Unfortunately, Dago's face showed nothing but a repulsive calm.

Dago exhaled softly, a breath so light it seemed to dispel the smoke of battle before him.

He reached out and touched his earlobe.

"Disappointed? Then you can go die."

While thinking this, his hands moved extremely quickly.

A blue light shone out, and the [Eternal Night Frost Mark] set of magical artifacts was worn on him piece by piece, perfectly fitting his body.

In an instant, a chilling aura filled the air, standing in stark contrast to the blazing flames.

The strange occurrence at the central arena caused several surrounding battle groups to fall into an eerie silence, as if they were all waiting to watch this good show.

Spectators always crave gore, especially when geniuses clash with monsters.