Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

"Hey, Dago."

In the ascetic room, so quiet you could hear a speck of dust falling, the air vibrated slightly due to a sudden gust of air.

A brightly colored, almost eerie, rainbow parrot did not follow the usual flight logic of birds, but instead circled in a strange and beautiful geometric trajectory, deliberately defying the rules of gravity.

With a "thud," carrying a cold texture that didn't belong to a living being, it quickly landed on the old surface of the long table.

It tilted its head, its eyes, seemingly inlaid with jewels yet devoid of any emotion, winked at him in greeting, "Are you settling in well here?"

Steele.

Dago's fingers, which were deciphering runes on the parchment, paused slightly. His calm, deep eyes showed a hint of surprise at the arrival of the illusion parrot Steele.

During the period of being locked down, apart from the deathly silence of elemental fluctuations, he never expected any "visitors".

"Why are you here?"

Dago's voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time, with a metallic, abrasive quality.

I came to see you.

Steele gently combed the non-existent "feathers" on her wings with her huge, spiral-shaped, metallic beak, each comb accompanied by subtle ripples of magical energy.

It replied to Dagger with that distinctive, slightly mocking, playful rolled "r" sound, "I'll bring you something too."

As he spoke, Steele raised his claw, which seemed to be made of pure gold.

A spatial ring worn on its claws shimmered with a faint blue light in the dim candlelight.

With a slight distortion of space, the originally empty area on the table between him and Dago was immediately filled with more than a dozen bottles and jars.

Amidst the interplay of light and shadow, these containers emanate a chilling, magical aura.

Steele opened his beak, spat out a small piece of runestone engraved with intricate patterns, and pushed it in front of Dago with the tip of his beak, making a crisp "ding" sound.

"These are all potions that can help second-circle wizards enhance their mental strength, and there are also a few resources prepared for those aiming to become third-circle wizards..."

Here are the instructions for use, as well as some data records on drug neutralization. Use this for now, and I'll bring you a new one when you run out...

Dago did not immediately take it; a rational, inquisitive light flickered deep in his eyes.

He slowly stretched out his pale hand, his fingertips touching a translucent white crystal bottle on the table in front of him.

Through the cool bottle walls, one could see dozens of strange, jet-black worms inside, seemingly formed from pure malice.

They wriggled and twisted in the viscous preservation liquid, each movement stirring the faint light inside the bottle.

These worms are covered with strange dark red patterns, which, if not observed closely, appear to be a tangled mess.

But if you strain your eyes, you'll be horrified to discover that the patterns resemble miniature human faces, each bearing the inscription of joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness.

Those faces were contorted, as if screaming silently, telling of some kind of pain and madness from the depths of their souls.

"Mediterranean larvae. So many?"

A hint of barely concealed emotion finally crept into Dago's voice.

The Meditation Worm is an extremely rare and dangerous potion ingredient, a product cultivated by mixing the resentment of living beings with a high concentration of spiritual energy.

Legend has it that even a fingernail-sized Mesmer worm possesses cunning and intelligence no less than that of a normal person; they crave to parasitize and devour the consciousness of their host.

However, these magical insects have a fatal allure for wizards to enhance their spiritual power.

In this cruel wizarding world, danger often equates to opportunity.

Dago had read about the Meditation Worm in an ancient potion book called "Mental Alienation and Purification," and had also tried to collect such resources in the underground black market using his authority as a Six-Thorned Knot, but ultimately came up empty-handed.

This resource is often monopolized by high-ranking wizards.

I never expected Steele to bring him so much all at once.

"Did the Tower Master send you?"

Dago looked up, his gaze sharp as he stared into Steele’s fake eyes, trying to read some intention from them.

Steele shrugged humanely and let out a grating laugh. "Of course, who else but Undine would care about you like this? You know, these things are treasures from her private treasury."

Before Dago could respond, Steele flapped her wings and jumped in front of Dago.

It glanced at the plate, which contained almost nothing but water, with a hint of disdain in its eyes. Then, with its sharp claws, it quickly carved a bunch of strange, even bloody, dish names onto the black writing board next to it.

"You absolutely must try these dishes in the meditation room, Dago!"

"These are all cooked using the companion plants of abyssal monsters or the glands of mutated creatures. Although the taste is unique, they are very beneficial to the body."

These are all delicacies you absolutely can't get outside. Hmm, if they hadn't changed chefs due to failed experiments in the last two hundred years, you probably wouldn't regret it.

"Alright, Dago, it's getting late, I can't stay any longer. See you next time, have a good time, and I hope you gain something before you have a mental breakdown!"

Steele whistled a long, meaningful whistle, then Chongdago waved and flapped his wings to fly upwards.

Its figure gradually blurred as it hovered, and in the blink of an eye it disappeared into the seemingly impenetrable darkness above, leaving only ripples in the space that had not yet dissipated.

"Is that the exit?"

Dago stared in the direction Polby had left, his eyes narrowing slightly. Countless data streams were frantically refreshing deep within his pupils, trying to analyze the frequency of the spatial fluctuations from that instant.

But he quickly abandoned this futile attempt. Faced with such an absolute difference in strength, skill seemed utterly insignificant.

He quickly withdrew his gaze, his expression returning to its stagnant calm.

He began to meticulously and steadily inventory everything Steele had left behind, as if he were conducting a precise alchemical experiment.

Finally, his hand stopped on the bottle containing the meditation insects.

The icy touch traveled from my fingertips straight to my heart.

Dago pulled out the cork, and an indescribable, sweet and pungent smell instantly filled the air—the smell of highly concentrated spiritual energy mixed with biological decay.

He carefully poured out a black worm.

As soon as the worm came into contact with the air, the "human face" patterns on its body seemed to come alive, emitting a faint "sizzling" sound, as if cursing or tempting.

Dago hesitated for a moment, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes.

What is this sensory torment compared to the pursuit of truth and power?

He opened his mouth and slowly put the still frantically writhing black worm into it.

"squeak--"

The moment he chewed down, Dago seemed to hear a woman's piercing cry explode deep in his mind!

The voice was shrill and desperate, possessing a soul-piercing magic that tried to break down his rational defenses.

Immediately afterwards, my mouth was filled with an extreme feeling of nausea and greasiness.

It wasn't just a shock to the taste buds; it felt more like swallowing a lump of rotting entrails. The sticky liquid slid down his throat as if countless tiny tentacles were scratching at his esophagus.

Just as described in the book, the taste of directly consuming the worm is terrible; it's a challenge to human physiological instincts.

The book suggests that it is best to eat it with specially made soothing honey to neutralize the resentment and unpleasant smell.

But Dago did not do that.

Because the book also contained an inconspicuous line of small print: Direct consumption, though it increases the pain, results in the highest absorption rate of mental energy.

This is the most effective way to use it.

While chewing, suppressing the urge to vomit, Dago could already feel the miraculous effects of the worm.

The nauseating, chewed-up liquid transformed into a chilling, bone-deep energy stream that shot straight to the brain.

A monstrous wave seemed to surge within his mental space, and the previously stagnant mental fog began to boil wildly.

The soul within the core of the gray sun, under the infusion of that energy, was greedily devouring this foreign power, growing rapidly at an almost visible speed, radiating a dazzling silver light.

"Click—"

A crisp sound echoed in his mind, as if some kind of shackle had been forcibly broken.

When the rapidly growing sensation came to an abrupt end, Dago let out a long breath, his forehead covered in cold sweat.

He quickly opened his system panel and saw that the progress of his second-circle wizard under the [Strength] column had increased from 40% to 42%.

Just one Meditation Insect increased his mental power progress by a full 2%, and the twisted black shadows piled up in the bottle in front of him showed that he had at least twenty more!

"As expected of potion ingredients that are extremely precious even to third-ring wizards, these twenty-odd Meditation Worm larvae are probably Undine's private collection amassed over the years..."

Dago felt a slight stirring in his heart, but more than that, he felt a calm analysis.

In the wizarding world, there is no love without a reason, nor is there hatred without a reason.

Everything is an exchange of equal value; everything is a game of interests.

Before entering this "ascetic's chamber," Undine repeatedly expressed her pessimism about his chances of becoming a third-circle wizard in three years and qualifying for the "Isidore's Wizard Seat" at the Southern Wizarding Genius Gathering.

As a result, he immediately had Polby send him a large sum of valuable resources to help him break into the top three.

This woman is as hypocritical as ever.

Or rather, this is precisely the characteristic of creatures like wizards—never put all your eggs in one basket, and always have a backup plan in case of desperation.

She was making a huge gamble, and he was the unrevealed card in her hand.

Dago sighed a few times, but the warmth in his eyes quickly cooled and was replaced by hard rationality.

He carefully put away the materials on the table, his every movement as meticulous as if he were performing a ritual.

Then, he took out his tea set, which was the only remaining pleasure he had in life.

He brewed himself a cup of black tea, watching the steam rise into the cold air. He took a sip, letting the warmth dispel the chill in his body, and then continued to browse the rune books on the surrounding bookshelves.

In this enclosed space, he felt he was beginning to like living here.

There is no intrigue or backstabbing like in the outside world, no endless missions or killings.

He didn't need to think about anything; food and resources were delivered on time. All he had to do was operate like a precise machine, following the established procedures to cultivate, consume resources, and acquire knowledge.

In this wizarding world filled with treachery and death, it is practically paradise for most wizards who seek peace and yearn for truth.

This purity, this feeling of burning for a goal, fascinated him.

Dago drank two cups of black tea and only put down the rune book when the runes on the pages began to dance in his vision.

He stood up, his gray robe rustling as it dragged on the ground, and came to the small gray door that represented the space bearing the mark of the metal system's heritage.

The door was covered with intricate metal patterns, like a closed giant eye, coldly watching every challenger who tried to uncover its secrets.

Dago took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and went inside.

In the ascetic chamber where there is no distinction between day and night, the concept of time becomes blurred.

It is no longer the ticking hands of a clock, but like transparent grains of sand, silently flowing through unseen fingers, leaving only marks on the growth curve of spiritual power.

At first, Dago tried to time his menstrual cycle every day using an hourglass and a pocket watch.

He didn't know when, perhaps after a deep meditation, or perhaps after an explosion during a spell experiment, he forgot to check. Eventually, he simply stopped paying attention to it.

In his world, only the most essential things remained—

Meditation is about enduring excruciating pain to expand one's mental space;

Inheritance Mark Space practice spells, being killed and resurrected time and time again on the virtual battlefield, until every spell model is engraved into the bone marrow;

Cultivating and tempering the body, pushing it to its limits until it groans in agony, then using magical potions to repair it, making it as hard as steel;

Then came the study of runes, searching within those dry and obscure lines for the fulcrum to leverage the rules of the world...

Day after day, year after year.

This kind of life was dull, monotonous, and even bordered on self-destructive madness. But Dago enjoyed this tranquility.

In fact, he hadn't experienced such a peaceful and fulfilling life in a long time.

This daily routine accompanied him for a long time during his apprenticeship. Although he was weak at that time, he was filled with the most primal desire for knowledge.

On the contrary, after advancing to the first-ring wizard, he has been constantly on the move, for resources, for survival, and for not being eliminated in the cruel competition of the wizarding world.

He had to wear a mask and navigate between various forces, rarely having the chance to truly reflect and confront himself and the truth.