Chapter 440: Unidirectional Confinement
Back in the era of the Long-Legged Emperor, bloodline curses after death could be this powerful. Leon could only think of a few people who fit that description, the Emperor included. But clearly, the Long-Legged Emperor eventually left this place, returned to the Empire, and died ten years later...
But what exactly was going on with the bloodline curse in that palace? Leon was almost certain that a royal with a very special status had died there—he just couldn’t figure out who.
Leon shook his head in silence and withdrew his magic. Instantly, the four Frost Spears vanished. Solan Monty, who’d been pinned to the wall, collapsed to the ground as the ice faded. Now, Solan Monty was covered in blood, with gaping wounds in all four limbs, hair wild, face drained of color, eyes vacant, gasping for breath—he looked utterly broken.
"No one can make a mistake and get away without paying the price..." Leon shot Solan Monty a cold glance. He knew Solan wasn’t truly broken—he’d just had his soul torn apart and couldn’t recover right away. After what Leon had just done, Solan Monty’s path as a mage was basically ruined.
Though Solan Monty still had the power of a fifth-level Title Archmage, he’d never reach the sixth level in this lifetime. Of course, Solan himself didn’t know that yet...
Leon stretched out a hand, and wild magic surged from his palm. He uttered a few cryptic, arcane words, then a spell ray shot straight into Solan Monty’s body.
"What is that...?"
Dalson, standing nearby, frowned in confusion. He’d clearly seen the young mage’s spell—it looked a bit like a Mana Shackle, but there was something off about it. He quietly probed Solan Monty’s magic, found it still intact, and finally let out a sigh of relief.
That had scared him for a moment—he’d thought the young mage was about to seal away Solan Monty’s magic...
A fifth-level mage sealing the mana of a fifth-level Title Archmage—that’s enough to make anyone nervous.
Good thing that’s not the case...
What exactly did that young mage do to Solan Monty?
Only Leon really knew the answer. The method he’d used didn’t even belong to this era. The One-Way Mana Seal was a relic of the golden age of magic, invented by some obscure Heavenly Mage. It was hardly ever used, and Leon had only recorded it out of curiosity back when he stumbled across it in a vast, decaying library.
Casting the One-Way Mana Seal was a pain—requiring extreme control, and one slip could shatter the target’s mana core.
It was Leon’s first time trying it on Solan Monty—and somehow, it worked...
A strand of Leon’s mana now lingered inside Solan Monty’s mana core in a very particular way. It wouldn’t affect Solan’s spellcasting or meditation under normal circumstances.
But if Solan Monty ever targeted Leon with a spell, that hidden mana would clash violently with his own, causing a massive surge of magical chaos.
That’s why they called it the One-Way Mana Seal...
Ten days passed, and everyone emerged from the illusion. Most had changed in strength. Leon Merlin, who’d entered the Pale Plane’s mirage, had now fully fused the Arcane Ring. He might only be at the peak of seventh-level mage, but his power was so overwhelming that even ninth-level mages struggled to suppress him.
Ross Merlin’s experience was the strangest of all—he kept reliving the same battle over and over.
Back in the day, he’d lost to Stan Watson in the Blazeforge Realm, and it had haunted him ever since. Because of a flaw in his meditation technique, his strength had plateaued. Then Stan Watson was killed by Leon, so that defeat became a permanent regret. This time, inside the Blazeforge Realm’s illusion, after countless tries, he finally beat Stan Watson. Now, he’s an eighth-level mage...
Dragonblood Orc Hubert was the last to leave the illusion. The guy looked half asleep—Leon wondered if, after that Whispering Crystal call, he’d gone back for a nap.
But now, the Dragonblood Orc was a bona fide ninth-level Swordmaster.
Once everyone was together, they rested for an hour, then pushed open the door. No danger—just a spiraling staircase leading down. It was pitch dark, probably heading for the tenth floor of the Wizard’s Spire. The group quickly descended to the tenth floor.
On arrival, everyone was a little stunned. Judging from the eleventh floor, the Spire only covered a few hundred meters, but the tenth floor was massive.
Clearly, someone had used an alchemical array to expand the space...
To be precise, it was an abandoned alchemist’s workshop, dedicated to producing Alchemical Golems. The scale was enormous—several times larger than the one Leon had seen in Vaughn’s Laboratory. But unlike the eleventh and twelfth floors, this place was covered in cobwebs and dust, looking utterly ruined.
"Damn, how many Alchemical Golems could this place churn out in a day...?" Dalson was so shocked he could barely speak.
Right in the middle of the crisscrossing assembly lines stood a huge furnace. Black as night, it had survived thousands of years without a scratch—though now, not even a spark remained inside...
Just then, a faint metallic scraping echoed out—barely audible, but the ever-running Mana Harness picked it up instantly. Leon frowned, flicked his wrist, and sent out three or five Wizard’s Eyes. They immediately found the source: nearly a hundred Alchemical Golems, charging straight at them...
In seconds, the crowd of Alchemical Golems had them completely surrounded. The types varied—some modeled after magical beasts, others after battlemages, swordmasters, and more...
"Wasn’t this supposed to be an abandoned alchemist’s workshop? Why are there so many Alchemical Golems..." Ross Merlin stared at the golems, packed three deep around them, scalp prickling.
Luckily, the golems’ strength was all over the place, so they weren’t too hard to handle. But the magic ray arrays embedded in their bodies were a headache—especially with nearly a hundred golems firing nonstop. Even Leon’s elite group had to work to fend them off.
Half an hour of fighting, and not a single golem survived—they blasted every last one.
But that was just the beginning. They’d barely walked a few hundred meters when another batch of golems appeared—this time, only thirty-something.
After dealing with those golems, Leon frowned. Something felt off. When they’d first arrived on the tenth floor, they’d hung around the central furnace for at least half an hour, and not a single golem attacked...
But once they started heading deeper into the workshop, they ran into two waves of golems back-to-back...
Leon crouched beside a Shadow Wolf Golem, studied it for a moment, then took it apart at lightning speed—piece by piece, the parts dropped away, leaving Dalson and the others staring in shock.
"Something’s wrong..."
After a few minutes of dismantling, Leon shook his head, puzzled.
"Something’s off..."
Dalson broke out in a cold sweat at Leon’s words. He’d experienced firsthand how weird this place was—especially that illusion. "Archmage Merlin, could you maybe explain a bit more?"
"They aren’t following their programmed routines—something’s influencing them, and their programming has been tampered with..." Leon frowned, rose, and glanced into the distance. A Wizard’s Eye shot out, and as the image came back, Leon pointed ahead: "That’s the golem production workshop. All these golems came from there. Let’s check it out..."
Following Leon’s lead, the ten of them hurried toward the workshop. It was only a few kilometers away—at their speed, they’d get there in no time...
But the swarming golems were way beyond what they’d expected—wave after wave, throwing themselves at the group without hesitation.
After nearly six hours of fighting, it was finally over. Of the ten, only Leon was still standing—everyone else, including Ross Merlin, was exhausted, and some had even picked up minor injuries.
Leon gradually realized something was off about these golems. Maybe their goal wasn’t to kill them, but to hold them back—like they were protecting something.
And that tampered programming—that was the real issue...
This massive workshop had been abandoned for at least a thousand years. What exactly were those golems protecting? Leon couldn’t figure it out...