Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

The corners of its mouth, covered with fine dragon scales, were exaggeratedly torn backward, stretching all the way to its ears, with its sharp, white teeth clenching together.

Coupled with those scarlet vertical eyes that had long lost all human emotion, leaving only pure killing and madness, a sense of oppression and eeriness originating from the top of the food chain arose spontaneously.

"Click—"

A sudden, sharp crack shattered the suffocating standoff.

As if the core component of some kind of precision alchemical instrument had collapsed, the originally invisible, transparent, and indestructible void barrier around the independent small space now showed signs of shattering, like a mirror that had been struck hard.

Spiderweb-like cracks spread wildly, while the regular lines seemed to groan in pain.

"The energy node of the spatial restriction... has collapsed."

Ronald, sitting calmly in his seat, spoke softly, his tone completely calm, as if he were simply stating the inevitable result of an alchemical experiment.

He and Carlos rose almost simultaneously, their wizard robes fluttering in the surging air.

"call--"

Carlos slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, a breath of pent-up anger and fighting spirit.

A massive surge of mental energy belonging to a third-ring wizard, like a volcano about to erupt, forcefully pushed outwards from him.

His rugged and imposing features now seemed as hard as granite carvings. His hands hung naturally at his sides, but between his fingers, a faint silver metallic luster, enough to cut through steel, was blooming wildly—a manifestation of his ultimate control over metal particles.

"Those... bastards from the Resurrection Society."

The two simple words sounded like a curse squeezed out from between teeth.

The two said nothing more, but their burning, cold killing intent—driven by a desire to uphold the glory of the Thorn Ring and seek revenge—was like a rising tide of black seawater, silently spreading outwards into the shattering space.

Behind them, Barker, whose face had been pale, slowly opened his eyes.

The potion was taking effect. Although he was not fully cured, his expression was resolute, and he gripped his wand tightly, clearly ready to fight for glory.

"Click click click—"

In another space filled with the strong smell of blood, the collapse process seemed to be even more intense.

Within the blood-red mist, streaks of silvery white cracks emerged like ugly scars.

At the center of that enormous vortex formed from countless blood mists, a grotesque, flesh-and-blood monster that defied the normal logic of biological evolution suddenly opened its eyes.

Not only on the face, but also on that deformed, swollen, and muscularly bulging body, strange eyeballs of varying sizes grew out of nowhere, constantly rotating, greedily peering at the surrounding rules that were about to collapse.

Rufus, the colossal creature that had transformed into a monster, quietly rose, its countless eyes simultaneously turning to stare at the traces of the ruptured space around it.

He slowly raised his severely mutated right hand—a hand with seven or eight fingers, no skin covering it, with red muscle fibers and bluish-black veins exposed, writhing like a living thing with his movements.

In the palm of this terrifying hand lay a beautiful, undamaged woman's head, like a plaything in the hand of a demon.

Rufus raised his indescribable head, and through the shattered spatial rift, he could vaguely see several sun-like orbs of light tangling and colliding wildly in the sky. It was a battle of rules between Dawn-level powerhouses.

"The cage of rules has been broken... Now, you have nowhere to hide like rats..."

"A rare feast, a celebration of blood and souls."

"Snapped!"

Without a shred of pity, Rufus abruptly closed his seven or eight fingers.

The delicate woman's head in his palm exploded like a ripe watermelon, splattering red and white matter everywhere, and warm blood smeared all over his hideous face.

He extended his long, thin, forked, snake-like scarlet tongue, elegantly and cruelly drawing a few drops of warm blood from his lips into his mouth, savoring the lingering fear and despair within.

He then spoke softly, his voice hoarse and rough: "I'm really... looking forward to it..."

The signs of the impending collapse of the spatial "prison" are not isolated cases, but rather spread rapidly to every individual small space like a plague.

In the sky, the battle between the miraculous wizards seemed to be entering its most brutal finale.

The collision of rules caused a massive amount of out-of-control magical energy to fall like a meteor shower, creating crimson, churning lava lakes, foul-smelling, highly poisonous swamps, and bottomless, thunderous craters on the ground and in the void.

The environment was completely changed, as if the end of the world had arrived.

The black-robed members of the Restoration Society, who had initially held the upper hand, now seemed to be retreating into the shadows one by one, as if under some kind of command or out of fear.

Even the slowest-witted wizard realized that the "home ground" built by the Resurrection Society through conspiracy was about to be lost.

Next comes the moment when the roles of hunter and prey are reversed; it is time for them to take revenge and retaliate!

The wait felt like an eternity; in the extreme oppression, time seemed to stretch out.

Or perhaps, it was only a few breaths.

Without warning, a loud "boom" resounded, as if the barrier of the world had been shattered.

Countless independent small spaces, forcibly separated by the miraculous artifacts, shattered at this moment, turning into countless shimmering specks of light that dissipated.

The panoramic view of the competition venue, now ravaged, reappears on the goblin plains.

"Boom boom boom—"

The pent-up anger finally erupted.

One after another, cold, powerful spiritual forces filled with destructive desires rose from every corner. These were the dignity and killing intent of the elite wizards of each tower, aimed directly at the Resurrection Society wizards who were attempting to retreat.

but.

Before these wizards, who had been imprisoned for a long time and were burning with rage, could make any substantial counterattack, their minds and even their souls were completely taken over by the scene that appeared in the center of the arena, and even their breathing stopped.

-

At the very center of the arena, where the spatial storm was most intense.

The dark-robed leader, who exuded a powerful aura of the peak of the third ring and instilled despair in countless people, was now surrounded by countless complex and profound defensive runes.

He held the eerie ram's horn-shaped longsword, which exuded an ominous aura, high above his head, facing a point in the void ahead, maintaining a posture as if he was about to unleash a full-force slash.

This strike seemed to embody all his life's magic and will, enough to sever space itself.

however.

Before the terrifying ram's horn sword in his hand could even fall...

Everything froze.

His entire body, along with the indestructible rune defenses around him, was directly pierced through by a terrifying figure interwoven with dark blue frost and pure black lightning in a savage, domineering, and unstoppable manner!

The sound of flesh being torn apart didn't even have time to be heard.

"Whoosh—"

Just then, the golden, round sun finally broke free from the horizon and leaped out.

Endless golden light, carrying the hope of new life and the majesty of judgment, spread across the land, illuminating this battlefield filled with bloodshed and conspiracy.

Everyone involuntarily squinted, trying to adjust to the sudden light.

In the interplay of light and shadow, they witnessed a scene they would never forget—

The arrogant, sword-wielding man in black robes, like a soulless stone, fell limply from mid-air, his black robes fluttering wildly in the wind, leaving a trail of black blood.

And behind him.

A strange, slender figure, imbued with an ancient and powerful beauty, was bathed in the brilliant morning sun.

The figure did not turn around, but simply looked up at the rising sun and let out a silent yet majestic roar that seemed to shatter the soul.

At this moment, time seemed to flow backward. A noble bloodline from ancient times, an extreme despair and icy chill capable of freezing everything, was coldly peering at this group of insignificant modern wizards through that figure.

Everyone's mind was shaken, an instinctive tremor came from the depths of their souls, and they fell into a moment of daze and blankness.

"boom!"

Just then, a furious roar suddenly erupted from the sky—the angry roar of a Miracle-level expert from the Revival Society.

The grand chanting of incantations was amplified to the extreme, like a thunderclap, drowning out all other sounds in the world—it was the descent of the power of the rules.

An incredibly intense, blinding light, carrying destructive energy, erupted from the sky without reservation, attempting to obliterate that variable.

All the wizards lost their sight in an instant, only to find everything in a white blur. Their mental will trembled slightly under the miraculous power, like a candle flame in a storm.

That was the immense power of a miracle-level wizard, a divine might that mortals could not look directly at.

A few seconds later, as the blinding light gradually faded, everyone suppressed the stinging in their eyes and hurriedly looked back, trying to find that figure.

however.

The center of the arena was completely empty.

The eerie and ferocious shadow that had previously been deadly and occupied all their pupils had vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed.

Only the shocking pool of blood on the ground proved that what had just happened was not an illusion.

In the sky, only the three great suns representing their respective factions – Thunder, Crystal, and Blood – remained high in the sky.

But at this moment, their light seemed slightly dimmer than before, carrying a hint of something indescribable.