Shadow Tower, top floor, Round Table Wisdom Hall.
On the circular hall floor lies a uniquely designed large magic array. The structure of the magic array fuses seamlessly with the runes swimming across the walls, its purpose being to completely isolate the hall from the outside world, creating an independent space that even the most advanced detecting magic cannot infiltrate.
At the center of the hall, a somewhat worn elliptical stone table sits quietly. It's not crafted from any high-end magical material, and its modest appearance stands in stark contrast to the exquisite streak of chairs surrounding it, made of Starry Sky Mithril.
Yet, no one questions whether this stone table belongs here, for it was the very first piece of furniture added to the Tower by the seven founders—back when they were impoverished apprentices starting their journey.
As thousands of years passed, that once insignificant wizard organization jokingly established in the Dark Forest has grown into the powerful entity that rules over the witch domain. This stone table bears witness to its rise.
Though not inherently valuable, the spirit of this table has fused with the Tower itself, symbolizing its intrinsic will.
At the moment, within the Round Table Hall, three figures sit casually in their chairs.
An elder, a burly man, and... a ball of yarn?
Let's start with the elder.
An elder who appears as though he has grown straight out of a tree—his age unknown. Time has etched deep wrinkles on his face; his hair and beard have turned completely white, hidden beneath a towering, rounded pointed hat.
What's especially distinctive is that fresh green buds peek through his white hair and beard, as though sprouting directly from beneath his hat. Coupled with the dark green robe he wears, woven from rare magical plant fibers, he appears from a distance very much like an ancient tree.
This is Green Wizard Calvin, an exceptional figure in the fields of plantology and life science. His most renowned feat was single-handedly reviving an expansive forest devastated by fire.
Next is the burly man.
The man looks about forty years old, with short golden hair and two tiny moustaches beneath his nostrils.
He is astonishingly tall, nearly four meters, resembling a miniature giant. Unlike the traditional wizard cloak, he wears nothing on his upper body, showcasing his wheat-colored skin and rippling muscles. Every defined muscle appears as if forged from tempered steel, radiating immense strength.
Overall, he resembles a laborer or brute much more than a refined wizard.
His name is Reo. By appearance alone, it's clear that he specializes in body refinement magic. To pursue the pinnacle of strength, he intentionally merged the bloodline of giants, resulting in his toweringly unique physique.
And finally, the... yarn ball.
Yes, yarn. It looks just like a messy, pitch-black ball of tangled threads resting on a chair. But upon closer inspection, you'll notice a core--a dark, cloud-like energy mass--hidden within the yarn. This core bears faintly discernible eyes and a mouth, while the black "threads" on its exterior aren't threads at all but thin, wispy tentacles.
This is Saros the Mysticism Wizard.
He's not truly a ball of yarn; his peculiar state is the aftermath of studying the Abyss. During research, Saros suffered an unknown backlash, the Abyss consuming his body. Only fragments of his soul and will remained, which then reacted with Abyssal energy to form this strange entity. The "black threads" wrapped around him are, in fact, tentacles transported from the Abyss.
"Why are the others always late! They're tardy for every meeting!"
"Only us three show up on time!"
"Next time, I won't come early either. I'll leisurely arrive the day after the notice!"
The fiery-tempered Reo slammed the table angrily, causing the ancient stone tabletop to crackle under his fists. However, his blows lacked real strength—otherwise, no ordinary stone material could withstand his assault.
"Haha, Reo, you need patience. We have an abundance of time, don't we?" The laidback Calvin chuckled, lighting a pipe without any rush, as if already accustomed to the delays.
"Ah, someone's here," murmured the reticent Saros.
As his words hung in the air, a gust of icy wind carrying snow scattered through the hall. With that frosty breeze, an empty chair now held a newcomer.
She was a woman radiating an aura of frost, seemingly in her early thirties. Her strikingly beautiful face bore a cold, stoic expression, her tall, slender figure exuding elegance. Her skin was pale to the point of translucence, and her ice-blue hair cascaded over her shoulders, chilling everyone around her.
She wasn't dressed in a cloak; instead, she wore a flowing gown tailored from ice-blue silk interwoven with transparent ice threads. Its wide hemline showcased delicate snowflake embroidery, embellished with dazzling ice diamonds.
This was Frost Speaker Sirena, an Ice Element Wizard whose mastery of frost magic was unrivaled not only within Shadow Tower but across the Ancient Ruins, earning her the title of Ice Queen.
Her arrival seemingly dropped the ambient temperature, making the three wizards reflexively shiver.
Neither Reo nor Saros bothered to greet her, only Calvin warmly smiling as he welcomed her: "Long time no see, Sirena. You look colder than ever. It's a pleasure to see you here."
Unperturbed, Sirena retrieved a book and began flipping through its pages, responding curtly without even glancing up: "No need to waste time on idle chatter!"
Her demeanor spoke of arrogance and aloofness.
"Haha."
Though his warm gesture met Sirena's frigid indifference, Calvin remained unbothered, chuckling cheerfully: "We have plenty of time, don't we? Life has more to offer than cultivation! Otherwise, we'll miss out on its beautiful scenery."
Sirena remained silent, offering no retort. Instead, a polite and youthful voice echoed from outside.
"Calvin Wizard, your words are always so profound."
A young man walked into the hall.
He appeared clean and refined, wearing a brown wizard's cloak no different from those of ordinary apprentices. Yet on close inspection, subtle anomalies became clear.
His skin had a faint metallic sheen and seams were visible. Around his cheekbones, ears, and at the juncture between his neck and shoulders, rows of tiny rivets became evident. Even the exposed hand was no natural flesh but a mechanical arm crafted of intricate gears and metal. Overall, he resembled a uniquely lifelike mechanical automaton.
This was Codinos, the Alchemy Automaton—a scholar wholly consumed by alchemy, so much so that he transformed himself into an alchemical creation.
"You're late, Codinos," growled Reo in discontent.
Pausing, Reo glanced beside Codinos and added, "And you too, Grich!"
Joining Codinos was another curious figure resembling a circus clown. His face bore exaggerated red and white markings, a bulbous red nose, and a wide grin extending to his ears.
He wore a vibrant jester's hat adorned with jingling bells, a blue ruffled collar, and a colorful red-and-yellow top paired with billowy suspenders featuring quirky cartoon prints. On his feet were similarly eye-catching shoes.
Something about his bizarre appearance seemed to magnetize attention, as though he might suddenly leap into bewildering antics that would provoke laughter.
This was Grich, the Artisan, a specialist of Spiritual Magic capable of crafting spellbound illusions with effortless charm.
Codinos nonchalantly pulled out a chair and took his seat, pouting as he muttered indifferently, "What's the point of arriving early? There are always those who come later anyway."
"Would that be directed at me?" a voice, firm yet dignified, questioned.
With a resounding "Boom!"
Flames erupted within the hall, and from the fire stepped a new figure.
It was a man difficult to gauge in age.
He seemed no older than fifty by appearance; traces of maturity lingered only faintly around his eyes and mouth.
Yet, his gaze carried the unfathomable depth of wisdom—a breadth akin to the vast cosmos, exuding the aura of someone who could discern secrets or truths unseen, embodying the epitome of sage-like tranquility.
He donned a simple white robe stitched from soft material without elaborate decoration. A single glowing golden insignia adorned the collar, its faint shimmer brimming with enigmatic power.
He held a long, white staff equal to his stature, magical energy subtly illuminating its carved surface.
The epitome of wizardly presence, Erodion the Sage.
His background was sparse, but one fact stood prominent: he was not only the ruler of Wizard Tower but the supreme authority of the entire Dark Forest.
Calvin the Green Wizard, Reo the Berserker, Saros the Abyss Scholar, Sirena the Frost Speaker, Codinos the Alchemy Automaton, Grich the Artisan, and Erodion the Sage.
These seven preside as the ultimate Judges, wielding control over Shadow Tower and the vast Dark Forest.
Codinos forced a laugh awkwardly, "Ha, ha, your timing is impeccable."
Erodion, bypassing the jest, pulled out his chair and promptly addressed the meeting's agenda:
"Alright, let us discuss—how do we respond to the Black Wizards' provocation?"