Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

Cletham, in the Thorn Ring.

The enormous thorny ring rotated silently, its surface shimmering and shifting like a waterfall, frantically drawing in the free energy from the void.

Four wizard towers stand tall in the city below, and a fifth is under construction.

Suddenly, the clouds on the horizon dissipated instantly upon encountering the intense energy radiation, and a figure radiating unparalleled brilliance, like the blazing sun, stepped through the air.

A miracle?!

The aura of a Miracle-level wizard ignored the defensive magic array and spread throughout Cletam City. Countless magic circle wizards stopped as if they had been struck by a mental blow, and looked up at the distorted energy source in the sky with shocked and longing eyes.

Soon, a "sun" also rose within the wizard's tower of the Thorn Ring, and amidst the surging magic, a figure stepped forward to meet it.

After a brief encounter and exchange of information, the two "suns" faded away and disappeared from the top of the tower, while the latter also disappeared from view again.

Soon, distorted figures flew out from the top of each of the other three towers in the magic ring, all moving along the magic vacuum belt towards the top of the first tower.

After a brief silence, the wizards at the bottom and middle levels of the Ring of Law became restless, a mixture of panic and fervor, with everyone speculating about what major event had occurred.

Inside the spacious conference hall, the eight tower masters of the Thorn Ring sat around a semi-circular table, their emanating force fields subtly repelling the surrounding air.

The First Tower Master sat at the head of the table, his fingers lightly tapping the tabletop. His gaze, sharp as a tangible blade, swept over each person below. He spoke calmly:

"The wizards from Thunder Tower just came and told me two pieces of news, both related to the upcoming gathering of wizarding geniuses in the South."

"The first piece of news is that the people from the Resurrection Movement have reappeared."

The First Tower Master's eyelids were half-closed, and his tone revealed neither joy nor anger. "Currently, it is confirmed that there is one fifth-ring wizard and one fourth-ring wizard who distorted the rules of the earth's veins through blood sacrifice in the ruins of the Fairy Ancient City, causing a huge disaster. The soul imprints of more than three thousand wizards from the major wizarding forces in the south have completely perished and dissipated."

As soon as he finished speaking, a commotion immediately broke out below.

The expressions of all the tower masters turned to shock and solemnity, their immense spiritual power intertwining uneasily in mid-air.

Someone leaned forward abruptly and asked in a deep voice, "What did the Wizarding Alliance say? Do they need us to go to their aid?"

"A fifth-ring wizard..." Another tower master gripped the hem of his robe tightly. "Even if we were willing to help, we wouldn't be able to do much! A monster that has already touched the fundamental rules is not something that ordinary wizards can fight against. Wizards like us who haven't even reached the fourth ring would only become cannon fodder if we went there."

"What exactly is the Fuxing Association's scheme behind its continuous large-scale operations in the south, even at the cost of exposing its high-level combat capabilities?"

The First Tower Master listened to the crowd's discussions until the panic reached a breaking point, then tapped the table to interrupt them, saying calmly, "This matter is related to several top-tier wizarding forces in the central region..."

The Psionic Dawn and the Wizarding Alliance have already contacted Wizard Rona to go there. The unrest should be quelled soon, and it won't be our turn to deal with the consumables for patching the lines.

Upon hearing the name "Wizard Rona," the tense backs of the many Ring Lords relaxed simultaneously, and the lingering effects of their mental energy returned to calm.

A highly respected old wizard from the south, a veteran wizard with the strength of the fifth ring, is in charge of the situation. With such a person in charge and a group of medium and large wizarding forces assisting, there shouldn't be any irreparable collapse.

"The main reason I've gathered everyone here is for the second matter..."

The First Tower Master continued speaking, but paused deliberately for a few seconds halfway through his sentence. His eyes became extremely complex, as if he were assessing the situation, or perhaps marveling at it.

Upon seeing his unusual behavior, the other tower masters' hearts, which had just relaxed, immediately jumped into their throats again, and the entire hall changed, becoming solemn.

"Could there be any worse news than the resurrection of the Five Rings Wizards?"

Some people spoke out in desperation, and even began to plan to open the French Ring Refuge.

"No, that's not it. This is actually good news."

The First Tower Master shook his head, his gaze sweeping over the seven Tower Masters one by one, finally settling on a slender and exquisitely beautiful figure.

Everyone's eyes unconsciously turned to her, and Undine, who had inexplicably become the "focus" of everyone's attention and was under tremendous mental pressure, looked up in confusion.

At this moment, the First Ring Master took a deep breath and slowly spoke:

"Dago Heca".

"A genius member from our Silver Tower in the Thorn Ring."

"Defeat all opponents in this Southern Gathering of Geniuses, complete Isidore's Bloodbath Ritual, inherit Isidore's mantle, and become this year's top prodigy!"

The First Tower Master finished speaking.

"Buzz—"

All the main figures of the Thorn Ring Tower present seemed to have been collectively attacked by some powerful soul magic, and their bodies all trembled.

Undine, who was most shocked by the news, sat frozen in her seat, looking completely bewildered and unable to process what had just happened.

Dago... that former little wizard apprentice...

Wizards' top scorer?!

--------------

In the boundless wilderness, the desolate cold wind carried a strong fishy smell. A figure stumbled along, each step leaving a deep dent in the mud.

Fresh blood trickled down between his fingers, dripping onto the ground and leaving a trail of broken blood.

"Huffing and puffing—"

Michael walked forward step by step, his face pale and looking utterly disheveled.

At this moment, her aura had weakened to the extreme. Her armor had long since disappeared, and she was covered in blood and grime. Even her hair was matted with dried sweat and blood, leaving no trace of her former nobility and composure.

She can no longer even fly.

Her injuries were so severe that one could clearly feel her life force being slowly drained and lost from her body.

If it weren't for the perverted mentality of those who captured her, who didn't want her to die so easily, she might not have been able to escape alive from the previous round of desperate battle.

Michael didn't know where to go. Her reason was overwhelmed by pain, and she was driven by a strong will to survive that was deeply ingrained in her bones, running forward relentlessly.

He didn't know how long he had been running, until Michael, having lost too much blood, was experiencing blurred vision and the world was just a double image, when suddenly...

A pair of boots appeared before her eyes.

A pair of spotless, exceptionally beautiful boots, made from the leather of some extraordinary creature, with intricate and exquisite gold patterns embroidered on the white uppers with mithril thread, gave off an air of superiority and unparalleled luxury in this polluted wilderness.

A languid yet fateful voice descended from above Michael's head.

Look at yourself now.

"Lying prostrate in the mud, they looked even worse off than a dog with its spine broken..."

"I really don't want to call you that in this stinking environment, my little sister."

A hand gently descended, ignoring the filthy bloodstains, and slowly stroked Michael's cold cheek. The icy touch, carrying a resonance deep within his blood, brought Michael a fatally familiar feeling.

Michael struggled against the immense weight of his eyelids, widening his eyes to try and make out the face of the person in the backlight. His chapped lips moved as if he wanted to utter that long-forgotten name, but in the next moment, the last line of defense of his soul collapsed, and he fell into a complete coma.

The young man, dressed in a magnificent white and gold robe, quietly looked at Michael, who had lost consciousness at his feet.

He had long, dazzling golden hair, just like Michael's, which remained motionless in the dark winds of the wilderness.

His face was so handsome it was almost demonic, his features were flawless, and he possessed a noble and dignified air that seemed to belong to a superior being, looking down on all living beings as ants. Yet, his eyes revealed an absolute indifference that showed no human warmth whatsoever.

The young man didn't even glance at his sister's miserable state. He simply raised his hand, and extremely pure light elements flowed from his fingertips, scattering specks of white light that landed precisely on Michael's broken body.

Michael's breathing, which seemed on the verge of stopping, became much more even the moment he came into contact with the light.

Her body, on the verge of collapse, was forcibly injected with life, and her injuries healed rapidly in a way that defied logic, her vital signs quickly stabilized.

At this moment, in the distance, a thick, dark cloud, carrying an intense sense of malice and death, drifted across the sky.

The young, handsome man tilted his head slightly, narrowed his long, narrow eyes, and looked in the direction from which the dark clouds were coming. A cruel smile curled at the corner of his mouth as he spoke in a low voice: "Just what kind of audacious, evolution-ignoring lowly pig dares to covet even the pure bloodline of our Lucien family?"

The next instant, a platinum beam of light, nearly a hundred meters thick, appeared out of thin air and shot out without warning, piercing through the thick clouds in the sky.

"boom!"

-------------------------

"Snapped!"

Inside the bonfire, the dried branches burned with a crackling sound.

In the night breeze, the flickering light of flames danced in Dago's eyes.

He casually tugged at his robe, silently turning the rabbit meat that was roasting over the fire in his hand.

The thick fat, roasted by the raging fire, dripped into the charcoal fire, stirring up puffs of white smoke. The rich aroma of meat permeated the air, enough to drive any hungry traveler in the wilderness mad.

But Dago seemed to have completely lost his sense of taste and smell, and did not feel anything at all.

His eyes remained indifferently fixed on the patch of withered grass at his feet—where a dozen or so expensive communication runestones lay scattered about.

Each communication stone was being stimulated by high-frequency mental energy, constantly flashing white light, appearing strangely eerie in the deathly silence of the night.

For the sake of truth, we exchange what is equivalent; for the sake of profit, we engage in petty and despicable acts.

Behind those dazzling lights lie countless forces' attempts to win them over, test them, flatter them, and instill fear in them.

Many people are trying to contact Dago through various channels, hoping to bet on the newly crowned Wizards' top scorer, but Dago doesn't want to reply to any of them.