Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

"We still have a chance."

Those around Harvid remained calm.

This was a handsome young man with golden hair and eyes like silver lakes.

Half of his face was covered by a silver-white metal mask, which made him look even more profound and mysterious.

It is a four-color crystal called Barker.

"I see."

Harvid nodded. "I'm already gathering members to come here. Our goal is to secure at least one seat."

"This seat can be held by either you or me."

Harvid looked at Barker, but Barker seemed to be thinking about something, his gaze constantly drifting in a certain direction.

A terrifying roar, like the howling of evil spirits, could be faintly heard from there, and a pale green energy light flashed from time to time.

The air was filled with a nauseating, sour, and rotten smell.

It was as if even space itself was distorted and decayed under that force.

Harvid noticed Barker's gaze, frowned, and couldn't help but speak up: "Barker, I know what you're trying to do, but now isn't the best time."

"No."

Barker turned to look at Harved, his eyes calm as he spoke, "On the contrary, now is the perfect opportunity. Once we enter the ranking battles and face Kolcrow again, we'll only have our own strength to rely on."

"Do you think, given Kolcrow's personality, he'd let any of us survive a one-on-one duel?"

His fingertips were even trembling slightly.

That was the excitement of the prey finally having the chance to retaliate against the hunter.

"When all members of the Progressive Society are gathered, our power will be unprecedented, and this will be our only chance to reclaim everything from Kolcrow..."

Barker gently placed his hand on the metal mask on his face, as if his fingertips could feel the wounds beneath. "Harvid, have you forgotten those comrades who fought alongside us but ultimately died?"

"Have you forgotten the time you were trampled underfoot and humiliated by Kolcrow?"

"And then there's Gwell. He was the one who came up with the idea for the Progressive Society, but he never had the chance to join the Progressive Society he envisioned."

The horrific state of Gewell before his death is still vivid in my mind.

His blood was drained from his body, turning him into a shriveled specimen, which was hung on a dead tree by Colcroll.

That was a mockery of the weak, and also a warning to them.

Harvid's expression shifted, and he gritted his teeth, saying, "We could wait until all the members of the Progressive Society have matured before..."

"In the entire Progressive Society, how many people do you think will ultimately achieve a miracle? Who has a greater chance of achieving a miracle than Kolcrow?"

Barker said coldly, "Even if someone could actually do it, at that point, seeking revenge against Kolcrow would be more than just a personal grudge."

"This could very well ignite a full-scale war between the two powers!"

"Can you persuade 'Dawnbringer' and other forces to unite and declare war on 'Phantom Mask'?"

"still...."

Barker stared into Harved's eyes. "You never even considered revenge?"

He's forcing the emperor to abdicate.

Using the spirits of the dead and the potential crisis, they forced Harved to make that insane decision.

"Enough, Barker!"

Harvid's face darkened, and he spoke coldly, "You are not qualified to command or question me. The Progressive Society's action plan is not something that you and I can decide. The flames of revenge are about to consume you."

Reason told him that going to Korcrat at this point would be suicide.

But emotionally, the feeling of humiliation kept gnawing at his heart.

As he spoke, Harvid habitually picked up a communication stone to examine it, and suddenly froze.

His originally serious expression turned strange.

It's like seeing a formula that defies common sense.

"What's wrong?"

Barker also noticed the abrupt change in Harvid's mood, temporarily detached himself from the topic of the argument, and couldn't help but ask.

Harvid held the communication stone in his hand, unsure of how to express himself.

Finally, he spoke slowly, "I just received a message from Claire. She said that your Dago Heca of the Thorn Ring is about to advance to the third ring."

"He needs to protect Dago during his promotion and cannot join us for the time being..."

"Well.."

Upon hearing this, Barker was completely stunned.

In this ancient battlefield filled with slaughter and danger, in this hellish arena where death could be at any moment.

How dare Dago choose to be promoted at this time?

A moment later, Barker's voice was heard.

"Are you sure you received a message from Claire?"

In comparison, their disputes and calculations here seem so narrow-minded.

.........

Outside the Fairy City, countless wizards are watching the battle inside.

A huge magical light screen floated in mid-air.

Everything in the ancient city was distant, hazy, and vague to them.

The image is not clear; it looks like a layer of frosted glass.

All that could be seen were distorted light and shadow and violent elemental fluctuations.

But even the occasional burst of magical light is enough to excite some people.

Each violent collision of elements represents a life-or-death struggle between two geniuses.

This signifies that the old order has been broken and a new legend is being born.

When the first dazzling beam of light appeared, a great commotion even broke out among the wizards gathered outside the Fairy Ancient City.

One knowledgeable person excitedly exclaimed, "Someone has already stepped onto the ladder to the legendary Isidore, the inheritor of the natural-born magic master!"

Each time the beam of light appeared, it caused quite a stir among the wizards outside, who all speculated which southern prodigy would be taking the seat this time.

"It seems that the young wizards in the south are quite capable this generation."

Tracy swayed like a swing, suspended in mid-air on the Crimson Lotus Staff, gazing at the white pillars of light breaking through the layers of mist in the ancient fairy city.

"Even though Michael was the first to take a seat, the others weren't much slower than her."

"Oh, this stupid woman, she's performed so poorly. I hope she doesn't end up being outdone by the people from the south. If she does, I'll laugh my head off."

Tracy yawned and muttered to herself.

Suddenly a voice rang out from below, "Prince Michael will surely reach the summit! In the south, no one can surpass Princess Serena!"

"Bang!"

With a muffled thud, a wizard dressed in a moon-white robe was sent flying like a sandbag.

Tracy appeared down below at some point, slowly rubbing her pink, tender fists.

She yelled menacingly at the Emerald Court wizard she had punched away, "Did I tell you to speak?!"

Turning around, one sees a group of wizards from the Emerald Court kneeling neatly on the ground, each with some words scrawled on their face.

The mockery and ridicule of Michael are inseparable from the work of Tracy.

Every wizard in the Emerald Court glared resentfully at Tracy, looking angry but unable to do anything about it.

Tracy walked past everyone with her hands on her hips, wearing pretty little red shoes, admiring her masterpiece with a satisfied expression on her face.