Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

On a high hill outside the Fairy Ancient City, a figure was looking up at all of this.

This was an ordinary-looking man with long, slightly wavy gray hair, emerald-like eyes, and fair skin. His robes fluttered in the strong winds high above, but his exact age was impossible to discern.

He wore a long, pure black robe that trailed on the ground, with extremely subtle dark patterns embroidered at the hem. If you didn't look closely, it would just look like the creases of old fabric.

The man seemed completely immersed in the beauty of the scene, his face filled with longing and intoxication, as if the carnage below was the most magnificent picture in his eyes.

Someone appeared behind him, wearing a similar black robe, with a hunched figure and his face hidden by the brim of the hood hanging from his head. The shadow swallowed his features, revealing only a pale chin.

"I'm reminded of the year we were in."

The gray-haired man withdrew his gaze, his eyelids half-closed, and looked at the black-robed man behind him. He spoke softly in a reminiscent tone, "Do you remember, Doru? Back then, you were so radiant, breaking into the top four in one go, almost one step away from becoming the champion of that generation."

"And I am just a lowly second-circle wizard, not even qualified to participate. I can only stay outside, looking up at you with boundless adoration."

The man in black robes remained silent, his withered fingers curling slightly inside his sleeves, as if this memory was not a source of honor for him, but rather the beginning of some kind of shame.

A moment later, a deep, hoarse male voice came from under the black robe, like two rough pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.

"The protectors accompanying the Lucien family are probably only at the fourth ring level, so they are not a concern."

"The problem is that Phoenix's bloodline is intertwined with our objectives. If we proceed as planned, we must consider the potential impact they might have."

"The higher-ups want you to make the decision."

The gray-haired man raised his hand, his slender index finger drawing a light arc in the air, interrupting the man in black robes.

The movements were gentle, yet carried an unquestionable authority.

"Don't you understand, Doru?"

The gray-haired man turned around, his back to the battlefield below. His emerald eyes were unfocused, as if he were gazing at some kind of truth in the void.

"If it's just about capturing that little girl from the Lucien family, then only you need to come back."

The man in black paused, his breathing becoming slightly rapid.

"Although the Phoenixes are not well-known, they have always been one of the oldest and most noble bloodlines on the Upper Ring Continent. Their immortal wings may not have completely withered into ashes yet, in case..."

"That's not something you need to worry about."

The gray-haired man spoke calmly, his voice flat, yet it caused the surrounding temperature to drop several degrees.

The man in black robes fell silent, lowering his head even further.

The gray-haired man continued speaking slowly, as if reciting an ancient epic:

"Legend has it that the legendary Life Witch Norris Lucien forged a total of twelve incredibly powerful Life Armor sets during her lifetime, eight of which were destroyed or lost in battle."

"Lucien's descendants, with the remaining four sets, established a vast empire in the central part of Upper Ring."

"Our target this time, although the bloodline of the Lucien Life Witch is very thin, is surprisingly extremely compatible with one of the Life Sets."

He reached out his hand, as if trying to grasp some free-floating element in the air.

"Do you think we just want to harvest her bloodline?"

The man in black robes trembled slightly, and his hooded head quickly rose, as if two beams of light shot out from the darkness.

"You should know that I'm in charge of the 'Salvation Armed Forces' project research. If your performance this time satisfies me..."

The gray-haired man turned to look at the man in black robes, his eyes gentle as he spoke, "I'm willing to let you serve as my assistant, and you might even have the opportunity to become one of the first to control the armed forces."

"Doru, just focus on doing your job well. I'll take care of the rest."

The gray-haired man reached out and gently patted the black-robed man's shoulder, a gesture that was intimate but made the black-robed man stiffen.

Don't let me down.

These five words seem light and airy, yet they carry immense weight.

The man in black lowered his head, his voice trembling, and softly replied, "Yes."

A satisfied smile appeared on the gray-haired man's face. The smile was as warm as a spring breeze, yet it carried an indescribable eeriness.

Then, turning his gaze to the center of the distant glow, he looked at the dense black dots that formed a tight circle, representing countless wizards, and a deep sense of emotion appeared on his face.

"The South... It's been hundreds of years since I last returned? I'd almost forgotten about it..."

He took a deep breath, as if trying to inhale the essence of this land into his lungs.

"How I miss those days!"

As the man sighed, the two figures on the hill began to contort, dissolving like ink drops in water, and vanished in the glow of the sunset, leaving only a faint, cold breeze.

............

"boom!"

"boom!"

"boom!"

In the center of the battlefield, the deafening roar of explosions tearing through the air echoed through the sky.

His long, black hair, like a cape, spread wildly behind Dago, dancing wildly like living tentacles.

His arms were bulging with muscles, stretched to their limit, with veins standing out like lurking green snakes.

Pure black light, like lightning, coiled and leaped around him, crackling and distorting the surrounding space.

Dago's face twisted into a grimace, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints as he stared intently ahead.

Between his two palms, an indescribable, rich aura of magical power intertwined and condensed, which was the foundation of his status as a wizard, the embodiment of knowledge and will.

Countless frost crystals gathered into a ball, each containing extreme cold, enough to freeze steel.

Above the ice hockey puck was a massive silver metal shield made entirely of titanium, thick, sturdy, and exuding an unshakeable aura.

He had almost fully activated his defenses; at this moment, he was no longer a mortal, but a mobile elemental fortress.

But it still couldn't stop the blurry, distorted black light in the void before them.

That is the embodiment of rules, a silhouette of death.

The golden snake dagger in Farin's hand had vanished, transforming into this all-consuming ray of light.

The black light, though lacking any earth-shattering momentum, broke through his layers of defenses with unstoppable force.

The titanium shield melted like butter with a hot knife, turning into splashing silver droplets.

The extremely cold ice ball shattered instantly, not even having time to make a sound before it was annihilated into nothingness particles.

The domain collapsed, and the defenses constructed by spiritual power were easily torn apart like paper.

The sense of impending death instantly gripped Dago's mind, and he felt a chill run down his spine, instinctively making his final reaction.

He clasped his hands together, in the strongest form of the [Blue Demon Body], attempting to grasp the illusory light with his bare hands.

"laugh--"

There was no loud clang of metal clashing, only a faint, teeth-grinding tearing sound.

Two scaly hands were instantly slashed, and the blood evaporated before it could even flow out due to the high temperature.

A black, ethereal light flashed across Dago's body, like the Grim Reaper's scythe gently slicing through.

The power was finally exhausted, and the terrifying light disappeared into the air as if it had never existed.

Dago stood there expressionless and stiff.

On the right side, the clothes were torn, the skin and flesh were rolled up, revealing the bare white bones.

If you go just one inch deeper, you'll find the heart.

No blood flowed from the wound; it was sealed by some strange energy, appearing as a charred, necrotic mass.

But then, the immense energy of despair within him began to boil.

The granulation tissue writhed wildly, and a deep cut was rapidly closing, scabbing over, and falling off at a speed visible to the naked eye.

When he raised his head with a cold gaze and turned his eyes to his opponent, there was no fear in his eyes, only a ferocity like that of a wild beast and an exploration of the unknown.

What I got in return was a hurried, slightly flustered voice.

"Okay... I give up!"

Farin's voice trembled, carrying a hint of relief.

"call--"

A huge, mysterious ball of light emerged from the other party, like tangible soul energy, and quickly entered Dago's body.

The victor's spoils are a gift from the Isidore Rules.

The massive gray cloud churned violently, expanding outwards once more, greedily devouring this foreign force.

As Dago felt his soul power and mental strength rapidly increasing, the frustration of almost being killed he felt a little better.

He slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, and the scales all over his body gradually faded away, restoring his normal skin color.

When he saw that his opponent, a wizard from the Arcane Workshop named Farin, was kneeling on one knee, his hands supporting him on the ground, panting heavily.

Farin's face was as pale as paper, his cheeks were sunken, and he looked as if he had aged decades in an instant, as if the dagger had drained all his energy.

He was so weak that he was almost swaying, and even lifting a single finger seemed incredibly difficult for him.

The anger that Dago had been holding in was finally completely released.

This is no magic tool; it is clearly a demon that devours its user.

If they don't admit defeat, the next person to die might not be Dago, but Farin himself, who will be drained of his life force.

"I'm sorry, Dago, the Arcane Workshop will make it up to you later."

The wizard Farin, his voice hoarse, struggled to raise his hand and toss a communication stone to Dago.

The stone traced a parabola in the air before being caught by Dago.

Farin raised his head, his lifeless eyes revealing a deep, unconcealed shock—a shock at the sheer strength of Dago's body.

To withstand a single blow from a miraculous artifact head-on and survive, and even regenerate rapidly, is simply a monster in human skin.

As a user of a miracle artifact, Farin was naturally more aware of the terrifying power of his own miracle artifact, a power that touched the very edge of the rules.

Just by looking at him now, you can tell that a single blow has drained all his mental energy and most of his life force.

How could a magical artifact that could nearly kill a mid-stage third-ring genius wizard be an ordinary miracle-level artifact?