Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

Even though the third-ring wizards who were watching maintained a relatively safe distance beforehand, they were inevitably affected.

The sound waves, mixed with the curses and wails of tens of thousands of dead souls before their deaths, transformed into visible gray ripples that frantically washed over every inch of space.

Their expressions changed drastically, and they retreated rapidly.

The elemental shields on their bodies rippled violently the moment they came into contact with the ripple, like boiling water splashing on snow.

A raging storm erupted within their mental space, as if countless icy hands were pulling at their consciousness, trying to drag it into the abyss.

Some were unable to dodge in time, and their faces were contorted under the sound waves, with blood flowing from their seven orifices. They staggered and barely managed to escape.

Claire, who had just cast a spell and was preparing to launch a sneak attack on Bone Toller, also retreated swiftly.

Claire only breathed a sigh of relief after retreating to a completely safe area.

The dread of teetering on the edge of death reminded him of the helplessness he felt when he first faced a full-fledged wizard during his apprenticeship.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he abruptly looked up at the center of the sound wave burst.

In that spot, the enormous hexagonal ice flower pattern and the four pure white ice blades were all shattered, leaving only a pale golden spiritual energy field, which was rapidly compressing and shrinking under the sonic tsunami.

Dago's rules of ice and snow seem somewhat fragile in the face of the sheer "quantity over power" of the undead.

"Damn it..."

Claire's face immediately turned extremely ugly. He clenched his fists tightly, then reluctantly loosened them little by little.

"Is this the true power of Mamforin?"

The wizards who had retreated to watch the battle were all deeply moved, their eyes filled with shock and horror.

They saw a high mountain on the path to truth, a mountain of despair built from countless bones.

"Among the wizarding geniuses in the South who specialize in necromancy, apart from Andariel, no one can surpass Mamfulin! This guy's lineage is terrifying."

"The Bone Bell has accumulated generations of undead servants. Even though some have perished or been lost in battles and over time, it still has an enormous and unparalleled base. Ordinary wizards simply cannot, and are not qualified to, be his opponents."

Plundering resources over a long period of time and treating the souls of others as consumables is the greatest desecration of life and the dark wizard's strongest trump card.

"That second-circle ice mage was monstrous enough, it's just a pity he ran into Mamfulin."

One wizard couldn't help but sigh, "If he had been given more time, he might have grown to a level comparable to, or even surpassing, Mamfulin. It's a pity that he didn't even leave a name behind before perishing in this battle."

Survival of the fittest.

On the path of seeking truth, a dead genius is merely a specimen with greater research value.

At this moment, in the center of the terrifying sonic tsunami, the pale gold representing Dago's mental field had been compressed to the point of being almost invisible, like a flickering candle in a gale, ready to be extinguished at any moment.

Some onlookers felt sorry for him, some were disdainful, and some sneered.

This is the price of challenging authority.

Without sufficient foundational knowledge, relying solely on a momentary burst of inspiration will ultimately fail to bridge the class divide.

The strength that Dago had previously displayed, far exceeding his own level, was astonishing, but he could only blame himself for being too overconfident.

Before it could fully mature, it ran into an opponent like the Bone Toll Mammoth Flint.

However, just when everyone thought it was all over.

A wizard on the edge of the battle suddenly felt a chill.

It wasn't just ordinary cold; it was a sense of annihilation that seemed to slow down even the speed of thought.

He touched his cheek and looked up in confusion.

"Is it snowing?"

This defies common meteorological knowledge; in this energy field filled with the deathly aura of the undead, the ice element should have been completely repelled.

He wasn't the only one; many spectating wizards suddenly noticed that snowflakes were beginning to fall from the sky.

Each snowflake had eight edges, a shape more complex than they had ever seen before, and its color was a pure white that blended from deep blue, making it exquisitely beautiful.

Delicate snowflakes gently landed on their faces and bodies, and an inexplicable chill and piercing coldness penetrated their robes and skin, quickly seeping into their bodies, as if their blood were freezing. An indescribable fear and despair arose from the depths of their souls.

The onlookers realized something was wrong and retreated hastily again, filled with suspicion and uncertainty.

At that moment, the sonic tsunami that filled the entire sky abruptly stopped, and then, incredulously, everyone saw—

A touch of ultimate deep blue quietly blossoms at the heart of the battle group.

In that instant, the world lost its sound.

All the shrieks of the dead were swallowed by this deep blue aura, turning into a deathly silence.

Beneath the deep blue, air currents, light, space, and even time seem to be frozen in place.

Endless snowflakes fell from the sky, creating ripples of deep blue, and countless ice crystal spikes sprouted from the void.

In the blink of an eye.

A vast, thorny snow kingdom has thus been born!

Maflin was also frozen by a terrifying chill, and the dense, sharp ice crystals trapped him like a cage.

Countless vengeful spirits and ghosts were sealed by frost, suspended in mid-air, motionless, and transformed into translucent ice spheres containing frozen and distorted human faces.

This bizarre scene resembles an artwork titled "All Beings Suffer" created by the most eccentric sculptor.

The undead retained their ferocity from the previous second, but in this second they became eternal stillness.

And beneath this extreme cold.

A tall and slender figure emerged from the depths of the "Snow Country".

He had no injuries whatsoever, not even a single strand of hair was disheveled.

His short hair was deep black with a slight hint of blue, his eyes were bewitchingly blue-gold, and his face was pale yet handsome.

In this snowy land, Dago is the only king, the only truth!

Titanium flowed from Dago's body and quickly solidified in his hand into a magnificent, silvery-white spear.

The tip of the spear slowly traced a line through the air, making a soft, rustling sound as it rubbed against the ice.

The sound wasn't loud, but it clearly penetrated everyone's eardrums, like the Grim Reaper approaching with his scythe.

Dargo, holding a long spear, strolled toward Mamforin.

With each step he took, his figure would disappear into the void and then reappear in a flash.

He quickly approached Maflin, whose face showed shock and emotion for the first time.

Those bloodshot eyes darted around frantically, trying to muster their mental energy to break through the blockade, but the thin layer of frost was as unbreakable as a wall of sighs.

A powerful spiritual force, belonging to the mid-to-late stage of the third ring, emanated from his body, causing the chill that had frozen Maflin to rapidly dissipate, and the ice crystal spikes that had imprisoned him to make cracking sounds as they succumbed to the strain.

A desperate struggle.

Mamforin was, after all, a seasoned third-circle wizard, and he was burning his own essence in an attempt to make a final counterattack.

however.

Dago, however, seemed not to have seen any of this at all.

He simply gazed calmly at Maflin, slowly raised the titanium spear in his hand, its tip pointing directly at Maflin's brow, and spoke softly:

His tone was so calm, as if he were asking about the weather that night, or as if he were reading a pre-prepared verdict.

"Let the death knell toll once more, Mamforin."

Consider this a farewell gift for yourself!

Dago stretched out his arm, and the spear in his hand flew out of his grasp, transforming into a dazzling silver light.

It disappeared and reappeared several times in the air, traversing vast spatial distances, appearing abruptly before Mamflin like a bolt of lightning.

Time seemed to stand still at this moment.

Everyone only saw that flash of silver light, like a silver venomous snake, ignoring the layers of defensive force fields surrounding Mamfulin.

Pierce his head through!