Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

After Melville uttered those words, a huge and dense golden halo spread out from beneath his feet, centered on him.

In an instant, grains of sand turned from yellow to gold, and inch by inch of sand transformed into gold.

A heavy metallic smell filled the air, and the originally dry wind now carried the coldness and chill of precious metals.

Every grain of sand trembled, as if undergoing painful reorganization and tearing at a microscopic level.

Like a ray of light spreading across the land, in a moment, the entire boundless desert was completely transformed into a dazzling sea of ​​gold.

The heavy gold sand rubbed against each other, producing a teeth-grinding, ear-piercing sound, like countless coins colliding.

This expanse of golden sand, reflecting the distant golden city, exudes an incomparably magnificent and dazzling brilliance, as if the ancient kingdom of legend recorded in the pages of a fairy tale has come to life.

The light stung my retina; it was an aesthetic that bordered on violence.

In this bizarre and fantastical scene, the world's original rules are ruthlessly trampled upon, replaced by the manifestation of a wizard's wild imagination.

Even knowing it was just a dream, Dago felt a profound shock from the bottom of his heart at this moment.

What a terrifying manifestation of spiritual power!

If this power were placed in reality, it would be a world-destroying curse capable of rewriting the geological structure.

This shock didn't come entirely from the scene before him, but also from the words Melville spoke to him—

Simply because he heard a story when he was a child, he put it into practice and actually created a... golden kingdom with his own hands!

This behavior is really... so "Melville".

That is the ultimate contempt for so-called "common sense" and absolute obedience to the monster called "truth" in one's heart.

Driven by a single idea, they are willing to leverage the world; this obsession is the only ticket to the pinnacle of wizardry.

Dago didn't even know what words to use to describe his feelings.

Fear and longing intertwined in his young heart, like two venomous snakes devouring each other.

At this moment, in this world, only he, "Melville," and the dog named "Itai" were not golden, not made of gold.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Melville returned to Dargo's side and stood beside him, squinting as he gazed at the distant golden city.

His eyes were empty and deep, reflecting not gold, but some kind of more nihilistic obsession.

"I have spent my whole life realizing this dream that originated in my childhood and seemed absurd and ridiculous to others."

The wizard's voice was deep and resonant, carrying a sense of the vicissitudes of history, like the wheels of time crushing bones.

"To calculate the formula for this elemental transformation, I dissected three thousand kinds of monsters that feed on metals and spent two hundred years in a laboratory filled with highly toxic mercury vapor."

Dago's lips twitched slightly as he spoke, "But you did achieve it in the end, didn't you?"

"yes."

Melville sighed softly, then shook his head. "It wasn't completely achieved... There's still a lot missing, but unfortunately, I don't have time anymore."

He reached out, wanting to touch that non-existent perfection in the void, but his fingertips trembled slightly, as if bearing an unspeakable weight.

"Like the ambitious old king in the story, he eventually died of old age on his golden throne, never living to see the day when he would truly live forever."

Gold is eternal, but the bodies of those who create gold are irreversibly decaying.

This is the cruelest irony under the principle of equivalent exchange.

"Even you can't defy the passage of time?"

Dago murmured softly.

In his mind, the man before him should have already stood on the threshold of the gate of truth, looking down upon all living beings.

"I?"

"Melville" chuckled and said softly, "I'm still far from it. Perhaps the real 'Melville' could do it."

The laughter carried a hint of self-deprecation, as well as a sense of awe for that grand concept.

"What do you mean?!"

Dago was suddenly stunned.

The chill ran down my spine and straight to the back of my head, as if the very foundation of my worldview was crumbling.

He had always believed that the young man before him was the legendary wizard Melville, but now, judging from the man's words... it seemed that he wasn't?!

Melville looked at Dargo and slowly began to speak: "Long ago, a wizard imagined a place in the world—a place with infinite time, infinite space, endless resources, and everything you can imagine..."

His voice became ethereal, as if it came from the end of the long river of time, telling a forbidden secret that had been sealed away.

"That is the ultimate dream of all wizards, the other side of the world, free from the cruel and plundering laws of the 'Endless World'."

He devoted his entire life to finding the entrance to that place. On this long and directionless journey, his spirit and ideals inspired many people, and some wizards joined him.

This is not just following, it is symbiosis.

In the void of despair, they huddled together for warmth, using each other's wisdom and flesh to pave a ladder to the unknown.

They upheld the will of the first wizard, striving to find, or rather, to build, such a place.

And this place was called—Melville!

"...Later, 'Melville' also became the name of this organization."

"The name itself represents a collective will that transcends the individual, a vast specter that can sacrifice everything for the truth."

"Many legends about Melville remain on the continent, but few people know them..."

Melville shrugged helplessly. "Melville never refers to just one person."

"They are a group of madmen, a group of geniuses, a group of ascetics humbly praying for the truth."

"Of course, it's not wrong for you to call me 'Melville,' because every wizard of 'Melville' refers to himself as 'Melville' when he travels outside."

It is both an honor and a curse.

Once you put on this mask, you must burn your last drop of spiritual energy for that grand ambition.

"Buzz—"

Dago was shaken to his core; the impact of this truth was no less than when the ancient golden kingdom had risen before his eyes.

It was as if a heavy hammer had shattered his illusions about individual heroism in the wizarding world.

He had always believed that Melville was a legendary wizard with unparalleled talent and power.

He was an unparalleled powerhouse who dominated the ages and suppressed the era with his own strength.

I only just realized that "Melville" is actually the name of a dreamland that only exists in ancient fantasies.

It is a code name for the collective will.

He had heard, and even personally experienced, countless legends about Melville.

Some of these legends are absurd, some are logically sound, some are bloody, and some are tender and affectionate.

Melville seemed to have a smattering of knowledge in every field: alchemy, forging, runes, potions… he was extremely skilled in every school of magic, including spatial, metallic, and illusion magic…

Even necromancy and abyssal summoning, those mutually exclusive knowledge systems, are perfectly integrated under the same name.

Thinking about it carefully, yes, human power is finite. How could one person's time, energy, and wisdom possibly support the research in so many fields?

Even formal wizards with long lifespans can feel despair in the face of the vast ocean of knowledge.

If it's a group of people, it makes much more sense.

That is the result of countless days and nights, and countless brains working together in different dimensions.

Dargo fell into a long silence. Melville watched him quietly, seemingly waiting for him to process the news.

A gust of wind swept across the golden desert, ruffling the hem of Dago's clothes, but it couldn't move the solidified gold.

This silence contained a deeper understanding of this cruel wizarding world—that individuals are so insignificant on the path to the pursuit of truth.

After an unknown amount of time, Dago's voice rang out again.

"So..."

He looked up, his gaze calm as he met the young man's. "When two or more 'Melvilles' meet... how should they address each other?"

Since they share the same name, there must be distinguishing codes within them; this is a logical necessity.

"Well……"

The young man was taken aback; he seemed not to have expected Dago to accept the premise so quickly and get to the heart of the matter.

Then he smiled and said, "Are you asking for my real name? You can call me—'The Gold Eater'."

"Gold Eater..."

Dago murmured the name, looked around at the golden sea of ​​sand, and felt that the name was quite fitting for the person in front of him who had always been chasing his dream of gold.

Turning material possessions into obsessions and the Golden Kingdom into a nightmare, they truly live up to their nickname.

"So, the way you appear to me now is also fake?"

Dago spoke.

His gaze sharpened, as if trying to see through that youthful exterior to the hidden essence of his soul.

In the wizarding world, appearances are often the cheapest form of deception.

The young man nodded, a hint of vicissitude showing in his clear, bright, gem-like eyes, and replied in a low voice, "My appearance, my voice, everything is shaped based on your imagination, because you thought I should be this way, so I became this way."

This is a high-level form of psychological suggestion, or some kind of illusionary projection based on soul fluctuations.

"This is for smooth communication, and also to conceal the traces of time."

As for my original appearance...

The young man shook his head. "It's been too long, so long that I've even forgotten what I originally looked like."

That was the last bit of self-awareness left behind after countless physical transformations, soul transfers, and even elementalization.

"Perhaps, he's a filthy old man with a beard that hangs all the way to the ground."

The young man smiled, as if he had imagined a very interesting scene, and his eyebrows and eyes curved into a cheerful smile.

Behind that smile, however, lay a chilling, inhuman feeling, as if a long-dead soul was mimicking the joy of the living.

He laughed for a while, then looked at Dargo and said, "Alright, that's enough about my story with Melville. Now it's time to talk about you."