Chapter 197: The Confrontation

"A spellcaster organization?"

The room fell into a deep silence once more.

After a long pause, Mage Samir sighed and asked, "Mage Merlin, in the Dark Spirit Domain, did you ever have difficulty finding spells, potions, or spellcasting tools? I know that even within spellcaster organizations, obtaining valuable spells, potions, or tools requires a price. However, at least there's always hope of acquiring them. Almost anything you could need—spells, potions, tools—exists within the organization for those willing to earn them."

"But as wandering mages, we have nothing. Every spell we wish to acquire comes at an exorbitant price. And even if we do gather plenty of elemental stones, there's no guarantee we can find the right spell or potion ingredients. This ancient ruin may hold unique spells, precious potions, or even powerful tools, but how could any of that compare to what's available to you in a spellcaster organization? There, as long as you're willing to pay the cost, you can get what you need. For a mage within such an organization—especially a powerful one beyond the third level—a ruin like this has little appeal."

Samir cast a significant look at Merlin, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Besides, this ruin is quite distant from the nearest spellcaster organization, the City of Flames. And you, Mage Merlin, may know better than us that organizations like the Dark Spirit Domain, the City of Flames, the Abyss Fortress, and the Earthfire Domain are too preoccupied with Osum to be interested in ruins like this."

Merlin was momentarily startled. While it was well known among members of spellcaster organizations that these four factions had allied to resist Osum's forces, most wandering mages had little knowledge of these organizations, let alone their internal affairs. Samir had evidently taken the time to research them.

Merlin nodded slightly. Samir had a point: organizations had a complete knowledge system and abundant resources. Members of these organizations only needed to accumulate enough contribution points to obtain spells, potions, tools, and more.

Thus, ruins with ancient spells and tools held little allure for powerful mages within these organizations. However, Samir was unaware that the ruin in question held the legendary Pandora Mana. If he knew, even the strongest mages within the organizations would rush to explore it.

With that thought, Merlin glanced at Mage Raisen, who met his gaze with an untroubled smile and a nod, revealing nothing.

"He's good at hiding his intentions," Merlin thought, growing wary. Raisen's calm demeanor was a reminder to stay cautious around him.

"Mage Samir," Merlin said, "if no one stronger than a third-level mage is likely to show up, we should go now rather than wait until tomorrow."

Samir nodded. "Agreed. No sense in waiting. Let's leave at once."

Samir promptly arranged for several carriages, each driven by alchemical creatures, and the group set off from Floating City toward the mysterious ruin.

---

Morning mist clung to the winter forest, casting a golden glow over dew-laden leaves as sunlight broke through the trees. The forest lay shrouded in fog so thick it obscured even the closest trees. Within this mist, however, a group of mages had gathered, all facing a small mound in the distance. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that this was not a natural hill, but an ancient tower, overgrown and partially buried under centuries of soil and vegetation.

Only three or four levels of the tower were visible aboveground, but the buried structure was rumored to contain at least six additional levels beneath. The patch of scorched earth nearby indicated that fire spells had been used recently, likely to clear a path into the tower.

A cluster of mages stood in front of the entrance, hesitating to enter. Among them was Mage Karen of the Delman family, flanked by Mage Golan and Alina.

"Several mages have already gone in without issue. It doesn't look dangerous in there. Let's head in," Karen urged.

Golan, however, remained calm and stopped the impatient Karen. "Let's wait. Those who went in are novices. How far do you think they'll get?"

Just as he finished speaking, a gust of wind blew through the clearing, and an elderly, white-haired mage shuffled forward. Despite his slow steps, a gust of wind spun around him, parting the crowd.

"It's Mage Houghton," someone whispered. "He's a seasoned first-level mage with powerful defensive tools and mastery over wind spells. He can hold his own against a second-level mage."

From the crowd, Golan observed, his voice low. "Houghton's decent. Having him pave the way could be useful."

The ruins were treacherous, and while Golan was confident, he preferred to have someone else test the way. Houghton was exactly the right person.

"Stay close," he whispered to Karen and Alina. "Once Houghton's gone in, we'll follow him."

But before Houghton could enter, a loud, mocking voice rang out. "Old Houghton, you're practically in the grave already, and you still want to try your luck here? Step aside and let me go first!"

A brawny, beast-hide-clad mage stormed into the clearing, grinning with a row of heavy earrings hanging from his left ear. He spread his thick arms wide, flicking off drops of dew before pointing a finger at Houghton, summoning a blazing fire that seemed poised to consume the entire forest.

Houghton, usually calm, paled upon seeing the newcomer and immediately summoned a shield of wind to retreat. Despite his speed, he couldn't completely avoid the fire, and his shield glowed as it absorbed the brunt of the flames—a clear testament to the quality of his defensive tools.

"Bazlo, you lunatic!" Houghton shouted, his face flushed with anger. "Fine! Go ahead if you're so eager!"

Bazlo, sneering, didn't seem the least bit concerned about the ruin's dangers. Without waiting for anyone else, he strode toward the entrance.

"Fool," Golan muttered, watching Bazlo approach the tower. "First ones in are always the first to die. But this brute's a second-level mage. He'll clear the way nicely."

Just then, two graceful figures glided out of the crowd, intercepting Bazlo with a powerful blow that sent him reeling backward.

"Boom!"

Before he could react, a sharp voice rang out: "This is the business of Floating City's Four Alchemists. Any unauthorized individuals—leave, or you will be killed!"

Four figures emerged, and for the first time, Golan's calm expression faltered. "Those four old mages… this complicates things."

He clenched his fists as he looked at the four, clearly familiar with them and highly wary.

"But wait," Golan's gaze narrowed, settling on one figure in particular. "One of them… is a newcomer?" The young face in the group of alchemists left him astonished.