Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

Dago thought to himself, he hadn't forgotten why he had come here in the first place.

Slowly take out the golden gear left behind by Melville's Amazing Box after the entrance was opened.

A tiny golden gear hovered in front of Dago, rotating slightly at an extremely slow speed.

This is not merely a physical rotation; within Dago's activated elemental perception vision, the gear is radiating faint ripples in all directions at a specific frequency.

These ripples are like some kind of encrypted signal, attempting to establish some kind of resonance with the homologous matter sleeping in this desolate ruin.

Undine told Dargo that Melville's Magic Box has a special connection between its boxes, allowing one box to be found by another.

He attempted to move through the air, and his body began to descend, getting closer to the top of the buildings in the city-state below.

The wind element formed a thin, streamlined shield around him, reducing air resistance and allowing him to glide through the steel jungle like a silent ghost.

Meanwhile, his mental energy was constantly monitoring the rotation speed of the golden gear.

But Dago soon discovered that although the gear did have a certain "guiding" function, like a compass, his method of searching was far too inefficient.

Based on the rate of change of gear speed, Dargo quickly constructed a three-dimensional coordinate model in his mind.

However, the feedback from the data was disappointing.

The signal attenuation rate was extremely high, and it was also affected by the magnetic field interference from the surrounding massive metal building complex.

This interference is like countless noises, drowning out that faint "guiding voice".

Or, to put it another way, the sensing range of the gears is too small.

Or perhaps, Melville's magical boxes are distributed too sparsely within the Mechanical Heart.

Given the sheer number of cases, low-probability events often require a huge time investment, and time is the wizard's most valuable resource.

"It's no less difficult than trying to find a needle in a haystack with a tiny magnet."

Dago pursed his lips, continuing to follow the gears as he pondered whether there were ways to improve efficiency.

His cold gaze swept across the street below, his brain like a sophisticated alchemical computer, constantly calculating various possibilities.

Using elemental resonance? No, the metallic inertness here is too strong.

Using prophetic magic? The cost is too high and the results are uncertain.

He didn't deliberately avoid the metal elemental life forms that roamed freely in the city-state. He would suppress them whenever he encountered them, and along the way, he collected quite a few elemental life form cores.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

It sounded as if something was constantly hitting the tightly closed door.

The sound interrupted Dago's thoughts, but it also made him think of another possibility—using the rules of the "indigenous people" to find their treasure.

Dago stopped, stroking the spatial ring with his right hand, his eyes flickering slightly as if he were deep in thought.

After a moment, he calmly turned the ring.

"Whoosh—"

A gray shadow darted out of the ring space.

The moment the gray goat regained its freedom, before it could even breathe in the rusty air, it was completely captivated by the golden light in the sky.

It was a manifestation of pure, high-level, and uncorroded metallic rules.

Then, with lightning speed, it pounced on the golden gear that was suspended in mid-air.

"Snap!"

A crisp sound rang out in the air—the sound of metal teeth snapping together.

Brontë Brontë III stretched his neck, staring longingly at the golden gear so close to his eyes, his pink tongue stretched to its limit, desperately trying to lick the edge of the gear.

Unfortunately, its entire neck was tightly gripped by Dago's single hand, and the few centimeters between them became an insurmountable chasm.

Dago's fingers, like iron clamps, precisely locked onto the power transmission node of the alchemical golem.

He stared expressionlessly at the creature, which was kicking wildly out of greed, as if examining a specimen under a microscope.

"Meow~~"

After repeated unsuccessful attempts, Brontë Brontë III looked at Dagger with pitiful eyes, his eyes full of longing.

"You want to eat this?"

"Meow~"

Brontë Shorttail III nodded, and Dagger's expression shifted slightly, as he gained a new understanding of the intelligence of the lame gray goat in his hand.

This desire is not a biological hunger, but a more fundamental "evolutionary instinct" engraved in the logic of runes.

It yearns to devour higher-grade metals to complete its own rules.

"This is very important to me."

Dago’s voice was cold; he was conducting a negotiation, a negotiation between the strong and the weak, between master and tool.

The light in Brontë Brontë III's eyes dimmed.

"but.."

Dago thought for a moment and said, "If you can lead me to more boxes that contain this thing, I might consider giving it to you."

This is the wizard's code of conduct: equivalent exchange; of course, the wizard has the right to interpret it.

"Meow~"

Brontë Shorttail III responded, his little head immediately turning in one direction, his four short legs kicking vigorously in mid-air, as if he couldn't wait to take Dago there.

Its reaction is so fast that there is almost no delay in thinking.

This means that the target already existed in its perception network, but it lacked the motivation to act on it before.

"It actually works?"

Dago blinked, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

He had only thought that this puppet gray goat had existed in the Mechanical Heart for who knows how long, and could be considered a true native.

I might know where Melville's Magic Box is hidden, so I thought I'd give it a try.

To his surprise, the other person actually acted as if they knew, which took him by surprise.

Dago released his grip on Brontë Shorttail III, protecting the spinning golden gear in his palm, and then said calmly, "Let's go, lead the way."

Brontë Shorttail III gave Dago's hand a longing look, then took off running in one direction with his four short legs.

It ran very fast, and its lame leg did not affect its balance at all. On the contrary, due to some strange mechanical compensation mechanism, it moved through the ruins as if it were flat ground.

This creature feeds on metal, yet it disdains the metal scattered throughout the ruins of the Mechanical Heart city-state.

Dago wondered if it was because the metal had rusted and rotted, considering this fellow was a "royal pet sheep."

Having grown accustomed to a life of luxury, they simply look down on these "stale" "metallic feed."

In the wizard's eyes of truth, this is not merely a matter of being picky about taste, but a selection based on energy level.

The decaying metal signifies that the internal chains of rules have broken, rendering it unable to provide the nourishment for evolution.

Dago followed behind, his eyes fixed on the gray figure ahead.

As Dago followed closely in Brontë Shorttail III's footsteps, his eyes gleamed, and he secretly planned that when he had time, he would definitely dissect this lame sheep and study it thoroughly inside and out.

Even if this guy doesn't represent the pinnacle of the metal golem forging technology of the Mechanical Heart Dwarf civilization, it must be at an extremely high level.

The meshing of every component, the loop of every rune, and even the core algorithm that simulates biological emotions are all invaluable knowledge.

For wizards, knowledge is power, and this sheep is a walking treasure trove of knowledge.

If he could figure out the dense array of runes and magic circles inside its body, he might be able to decipher a powerful metal puppet spell.

Soon, Brontë Shorttail III led Dago to a certain location.

It was a relatively well-preserved industrial area, with huge pipes coiled around the buildings like dead giant snakes.

A chilling sense of oppression hung in the air, as if some ancient being was lurking in the darkness.

Dago followed behind him, watching as the guy crashed headfirst into a huge hemispherical black metal building with a "thud," as if he had just broken through a thin sheet of paper.

The impact was dull and powerful, demonstrating the astonishing physical strength of this "pet".

The runic barriers on the walls were useless against it.

After a few breaths, it came running out, carrying a dark, fuzzy thing in its mouth.

Something seemed to be following behind them; heavy footsteps echoed continuously, as if some enormous creature was rapidly approaching.

The ground began to tremble; it was the oppressive feeling brought about by pure physical mass.

The air was compressed, making a whimpering sound. A stench mixed with the smell of engine oil and stale blood wafted over.

Dargo stood in front of the hemispherical black metal building, watching as Brontë Shorttail III, carrying a metal magic box, darted behind him with a "whoosh."

Then he cautiously peeked his head out from between his legs.

He didn't bother to check if the magic box the man was talking about was the same one he was looking for; instead, he stared intently in the direction of the hole from which the heavy footsteps were coming from.