Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

The tense and eerie atmosphere immediately relaxed. With the "profitable" situation gone, none of the wizards present wanted to be the first to step forward.

Once the leverage of interests becomes unbalanced, the fragile temporary standoff collapses like a sandcastle.

People started to leave, one by one... In the blink of an eye, half of the wizards who had been watching had left.

The residual elemental particles in the air were still jumping around randomly, traces left from the standoff.

Dago was somewhat disappointed; things hadn't gone as he'd hoped.

His eyes, hidden beneath the mask, were like a sophisticated scanner, coldly observing the trajectory of the energy flow.

but.

Variables always accompany opportunities.

He was soon "pleasantly surprised" to find that two third-ring wizards who had not yet left seemed to have taken an interest in him, this second-level wizard who had appeared out of nowhere and was "a bit too bold," and began to slowly approach him.

Both of them saw him as their target and were aware of each other's intentions. They focused most of their attention on each other and were cautiously probing each other.

That was the tacit understanding between hunters, and also the chains that restrained each other.

Like two vultures that have caught the scent of blood, they circled, assessing their prey's ability to resist.

"Come on, hurry up, you've come at the perfect time."

Dago took a deep breath, pretending to be oblivious, and lowered his head slightly, but the light in his eyes, unseen by anyone, grew stronger and stronger.

As the two third-ring wizards drew closer, Dargo was already contemplating how to strike in a way that would eliminate one while ensuring the other wouldn't escape.

Sudden.

"Buzz—"

A strange sound wave swept rapidly across the field.

This sound does not belong to the material world; it directly affects the spiritual realm.

It was some kind of high-frequency soul vibration, like a rusty saw blade cutting into the eardrum.

All the third-ring wizards who had not yet left the arena trembled slightly, and Dago also suddenly looked up, his gaze quickly shifting to a certain spot.

The mental shield automatically rippled, resisting this invisible attack.

"Buzzing—"

Strange sound waves continued endlessly.

The sound seemed to emanate from a dilapidated clock tower, carrying a strange power that sent shivers down one's spine.

That was the rhythm of death, the embodiment of some ancient curse.

Each tremor seemed to draw away the life energy that was drifting around it.

All the wizards present were immersed in the sound of the bell, staring blankly in the direction from which it came.

Their eyes began to glaze over, as if their souls were being dragged out by the voice, one hand at a time.

Dago, no longer concerned with "fishing," flew out from his hiding place, trying to grow as tall as possible.

Reaching a height with a clear view, Dago squinted, and with his exceptional eyesight, he saw—

To the west, above a large expanse of ancient fairy buildings, figures of wizards were frantically fleeing.

They no longer cared about the consumption of mental energy, and even overdraw their life force to increase flight speed.

That was a primal fear of absolute power.

Behind them, a dark gray wave was sweeping across the sky, rolling in.

That was neither cloud nor fog.

It was a "catastrophe of the dead" formed by countless shattered fragments of souls being forcibly kneaded together by some kind of force field.

Above the waves, there was a terrifying figure surrounded by countless ghostly spirits; the strange bell tolling emanated from this figure.

Thick gray smoke, several meters high, rose from the figure, almost completely obscuring its appearance.

All that could be seen were a pair of pure black eyes, coldly sweeping towards Dago and his group.

There was no human emotion in those eyes.

Only indifference to life and pure greed for the soul.

It's like a higher-dimensional being looking down at the colonies of bacteria in a petri dish.

One by one, the wizards who were desperately fleeing were caught up by the terrifying figure. A wave of dark gray ghosts swept over them and swallowed them up in the blink of an eye.

There were no screams, no resistance.

Because the moment they came into contact with the wave, their souls were shattered by the sound waves, and their bodies turned into part of the gray smoke.

The terrifying figure standing atop the wave of ghostly energy was enveloped in gray smoke that rapidly increased like a balloon being inflated, quickly growing several times larger until it was almost as dense as a gray cloud.

That is the satisfaction after "eating," a concrete manifestation of the expansion of power.

When the last fleeing wizard was swallowed by the ghostly wave, a wizard in the arena finally recognized the newcomer's identity.

That was one of the two mid-stage third-ring wizards they had fought earlier; his face was now deathly pale.

As if he had seen some extremely terrifying monster, he said in a slightly trembling voice, "It's Mamfulin... the Bone Bell Mamfulin."

He's here!

The name seemed to possess some kind of magic, causing the surrounding temperature to drop several degrees.

"When the bell tolls, no one is spared!"

This is a nightmare circulating in the wizarding world, a reputation built from countless corpses.

The Third Ring Wizard's voice eventually resembled a desperate wail.

Reason completely collapsed at that moment.

He turned and left like a madman, and the other wizards on the field, who had heard of the name "Mammoth Flint the Bone Bell," behaved much like him.

The instinct for survival overwhelmed everything; they burned with mental energy and fled frantically in all directions.

The rest, having already sensed the terrifying power of the previous wave of dark gray phantoms that had engulfed the third-ring wizards, also scattered like birds and beasts.

In less than half a breath, only Dago remained standing in the area.

The wind swept through the ruins, bringing with it a pungent, rotten smell.

"Mid-stage of the third ring, approaching the late stage of the third ring in terms of mental strength cultivation."

Dago stood high in the sky, squinting as he gazed at the figures approaching on the ghostly waves in the distance.

The death knell tolled around him again and again, growing more urgent and eerie with each passing moment.

Each tremor felt like a heavy hammer striking the barrier of his mental space.

In Dago's mind, the three soul seals trembled slightly with the tolling of the death knell, and at that moment, his eyes...

There was no fear.

All that remained was the thick, cloud-like gray smoke surrounding the other party.

"If we could defeat this guy..."

Dago gently licked his slightly dry lips. "How much increase in soul power should I be able to gain?"

Dago's eyes flashed, and he was about to rush forward.

His titanium armor began to flow, transforming into a streamlined shape best suited for breaking the sound barrier.

Suddenly, an exasperated voice rang in his ear. "Damn it!"

Dargo was slightly taken aback. He turned his head and saw that Claire, who had left earlier, had returned and reappeared in front of him.

Claire's face was extremely pale, and her once neatly combed hair was now disheveled by the strong wind.

"Are you paralyzed with fear? At a time like this, you're still standing there waiting to die instead of running away?!"

Claire rushed up to Dago and almost shouted angrily into his ear.

"Every generation of Bone Bell is a complete madman!"

"The first thing they need to do before inheriting this title is to kill all their fellow disciples and teachers, and then refine them all into ghosts to serve as resources to strengthen the Realm of the Dead."

Claire spoke very quickly, her voice slightly distorted by fear.

This is an account of the birth of an incomprehensible monster, a warning to Dargo that this is not just a difference in strength, but also a loss of humanity.

Claire gritted her teeth and kept urging Dago, "Hurry up, you ignorant fool."

"Deathstroke is a worthy contender for a spot in the top twenty of this battle... Crushing you, a mere second-tier member, is a hundred times easier for him than crushing an ant!"

"Why are you back?"

Dargo stared calmly at Claire, but his string of words only earned him a slightly strange question from Dargo.

There was no gratitude in this inquiry, only pure curiosity, as if studying an abnormal sample that had violated its survival instincts.

Claire froze, then the anxiety and urgency on his face vanished. He shook his head and quickly retreated.

Reason has regained the upper hand.

He realized how foolish and dangerous his actions were.

"Yeah, why would I come back? I'm an idiot too... I should have let you die. Compared to you, Barker is much more pleasing to the eye."

He cursed himself self-deprecatingly, as if trying to completely shake off the stupidity of that moment.

Dargo watched with amusement as Claire muttered to herself and left a second time without looking back.