Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

"Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—"

Heavy breathing came from a spot not far from Dago.

The sound waves were mixed with the hissing of lungs being scorched by the high temperature.

The air was filled with a nauseating, burnt smell.

Dargo turned his head and was surprised to see that the young wizard Fink, who had just been engulfed by the terrifying wave of fire, was still alive.

But at this moment, his condition is worse than death.

He was standing in the void, his face deathly pale.

The elemental shield that once surrounded him, symbolizing the so-called glory of genius, had long since shattered.

The turbulent flow of particles darted around him erratically.

Only half of the pure white wings on his back remained, and they were still melting.

That was not the melting of wax, but the forced deconstruction of the light element structure by higher-order laws.

Like a drop of snow water falling into boiling oil, it hisses and evaporates completely.

His moon-white robes were covered with burn marks from the flames.

The expensive fabrics that were originally engraved with defensive runes are now charred and curled up, like the skin of a dead person.

He looked disheveled and completely lost his previous arrogant and composed demeanor.

What truly moves people is his eyes.

The pupils dilated to the extreme, even losing their ability to focus.

At this moment, only an intense, almost overwhelming fear and terror remained in Fink's eyes.

Like a frightened rabbit, a single sentence kept repeating itself from its pale lips.

"The Crimson Lotus Staff! It's her! It's her!!"

Each syllable sounds like it's coming from the throat.

After rambling on incoherently for a while, Fink glanced at Dago.

There was no plea for help in his eyes, only a sense of absurdity, as if asking, "You're not dead yet?"

Then, without lingering at all, he retreated directly.

They sped away from this airspace that was about to turn into a hellish inferno.

At this moment, Ginya, the silver-haired witch Emily, and others caught up.

Ginya stood at a distance, protected by another third-circle wizard, Simon.

The third-ring wizard's hand trembled slightly, and the gem at the tip of his staff flickered, revealing the extreme turmoil in his heart.

The silver-haired witch then swiftly landed beside Dago in a few flashes.

Her mental energy fluctuations were extremely chaotic, like a string stretched to its limit.

Her face was grave, and her voice was tense as she urged him, "Hurry! If we don't leave now when that person arrives... we'll miss our chance!"

The surrounding air temperature is rising rapidly.

It wasn't the temperature of the flame, but the suffocating feeling caused by the high concentration of fire element particles crowding out other elements.

Dago could feel the moisture on his skin being greedily plundered.

"Which one?"

Dago's eyes flickered slightly.

The Eye of Truth quietly operated deep within his pupils, analyzing the unusual energy spectrum in the air.

Glancing at the exquisite women's walking stick wreathed in flames in the distance, he couldn't help but ask, "The owner of the walking stick? Who is she?"

The cane was not an inanimate object.

It seemed to breathe, inhaling and exhaling the surrounding free energy, each pulsation causing a slight distortion in space.

Emily looked up and around.

She was terrified, as if an invisible pair of eyes were watching her from the air.

He gritted his teeth and said in a low, urgent voice, "Tracy, the Ash Witch!"

"She possesses unparalleled talent and terrifying strength far surpassing her peers; she is capricious and ruthless."

"The key point is that she and Prince Michael have always been mortal enemies. Her appearance here is probably specifically aimed at Princess Ginya."

This is a factional struggle, a battle between predators at the top of the wizarding world.

They are nothing more than dust on the chessboard of the game, which can be wiped away at any time.

"Tracy, the Ash Witch"

Dago's expression shifted slightly.

He quickly searched the database in his mind for the name, which corresponded to a series of bloody records.

High risk level.

Extremely uncontrollable.

Recommendation: Avoid.

But Dago's feet didn't move.

The path of a wizard is to explore the true meaning of power on the edge of life and death.

After answering his question, the silver-haired witch Emily gave him a deep look.

She ignored him and turned to leave.

The instinct for survival overrides all covenants and morality.

However, at that moment, a lively and melodious girl's voice suddenly rang out in the room.

The sound had no source; it seemed to explode directly in everyone's mind.

"Are you Michael the Dead-Faced's new toy?"

"It doesn't look special or interesting at all!"

Why are you shaking?

"Does it hurt when I pinch you like this?"

"If it hurts, just cry out, darling. I won't be angry, okay?"

The voice was clear and bright, even more melodious than that of a lark.

Each syllable had a cloyingly sweet ending, like a poisoned blade coated in honey.

It's like a long string of crystal bells tinkling in the wind, bringing indescribable joy and delight.

But beneath this pleasure lies an abyss of coldness.

This is a kind of spiritual allure and distortion.

When a weak spiritual being hears this voice, it may even develop a distorted attachment to this person, wanting to use them as its "mother".

However, after this voice rang out, Dargo saw with his own eyes that the silver-haired witch Emily in front of him turned deathly pale and bloodless in an instant.

It was as if her soul had been locked by some higher-ranking being.

His entire body seemed to freeze, his thin lips trembling slightly as he said to himself, "She's here."

She simply "embedded" herself into this real-life scene out of thin air.

Dago and the stiff-faced silver-haired witch slowly looked in a certain direction.

Suddenly, a figure appeared where Ginya had been standing in the distance.

A petite girl.

She hovered three inches off the ground, as if the earth itself was unworthy to touch her feet.

She wore an enormous wizard's hat that was completely disproportionate to her size.

Beneath the hat, her long, rose-red hair cascaded down like waves.

Each strand of hair radiates astonishing heat radiation, distorting the surrounding light.

A face that is almost flawless.

It was a masterpiece meticulously crafted by the Creator, but it lacked the warmth of "humanity".

A long black robe embroidered with flame flowers.

Those flowers were not embroidery, but rather sealed, eternally extinguished elemental spirits, blooming painfully on the fabric.

There was also the hem of a long robe that was almost slit up to her waist, revealing her fair, shapely, and slender legs.

This kind of nudity is not for seduction, but rather an absolute confidence and arrogance in one's own charm.

This was absolutely the most beautiful witch Dargo had ever seen, even more so than Undine.

But this kind of beauty is the beauty of the Venus flytrap, the beauty of the poison dart frog.

The girl's purity, innocence, and romanticism, along with her mature and sensual allure that seems to evoke primal desires.

Two completely contradictory qualities are perfectly blended in one person.

This is the natural attraction and pressure on lower organisms after a leap in the level of life.

This girl, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, was currently pinching and tugging at Ginya's slightly chubby cheeks with her fair and beautiful fingers, which were as white as scallions.

The movements were gentle, yet undeniable.

It's like a mischievous child playing with a hamster that could be crushed at any moment.

Young wizard Fink and another third-ring wizard from the Emerald Court, Simon, stood beside the two.

They were so close that they could cast a spell simply by raising their hands.

They were so scared they were like two quails, hunching their shoulders and not daring to utter a single word.

Their mental energy field has been completely suppressed.

That was a warning from the depths of the soul: any act of resistance would result in instant annihilation.

In the wizarding world, hierarchy is as strict as ironclad law.

It was clear that the girl was using a lot of force; Ginya's face was red from being pinched.

The crystal glasses on her nose almost fell off, and her eyes were filled with tears of grievance.

That was a humiliation she had never suffered as a princess.

But Ginya didn't dare to move an inch.

She pressed her lips tightly together, as if afraid she would burst into tears.

Princess Ginya

The silver-haired witch Emily's lips moved slightly.

Reason told her to run away, but emotion kept her rooted to the spot.

He stared at Ginya, who was "at her mercy," her eyes filled with humiliation and resentment.

It was a hatred of one's own weakness and resentment towards the fickleness of the strong.

His body was suppressed by an overwhelming sense of fear, and he dared not move an inch, only able to make painful cries.

This is the reality of the wizarding world: in the face of absolute power, dignity, status, and bloodline are all jokes.

Suddenly, she seemed to sense some kind of fluctuation.

It was an extremely faint yet sharp aura, like a scalpel.

He turned his head abruptly and was shocked to find that Dago, who had been standing beside him, had disappeared.

There was no sound of wind.

There is no elemental perturbation.

It was as if he had never existed.

Looking back, his eyes widened suddenly, and he froze for a moment.

"Cry! Why don't you cry if it hurts?"

If it hurts, just cry it out!

The girl grabbed Ginya's face with both hands, practically treating it like a dough ball, and kneaded it vigorously.

She was enjoying being in control.

She was enjoying the thrill of destroying the pride of a noble soul.

No matter how fierce she pretended to be, or how "fierce" she acted, she was still unaffected.

Ginya, standing in front of Tracy, kept her lower lip tightly pressed together, trembling with fear, but remained silent.