Wizard: Starting from the Skill Tree

Duke’s gaze swept over the piles of ores.

These were Level 1 and Level 2 Elemental Crystals, not few in number and quite valuable, but not what he truly desired.

Many eyes were on these spoils now, and he couldn’t afford to waste time on these ordinary items.

His gaze passed over the piles of ores and rested on a metal door at the deepest part of the platform.

The door wasn’t large, entirely cast from a dark silvery metal, with no runes on the surface, but he could feel a faint energy wave emanating from behind it.

He recognized this Magic Metal, a rare metal with natural elemental isolation traits, commonly used for constructing vaults to store high-level Magic Items.

Without hesitation, Duke walked straight to that door.

A crisp cracking sound came from inside the door, like some kind of crystal breaking.

The restriction dissipated, and the door slowly opened inward.

Behind the door was a small space, a secret chamber about ten square meters in size.

On the three walls of the secret chamber, grooves were carved, and in the grooves were various items, some high-quality Elemental Crystals, a few pieces of superior Magic Metal ingots, and some materials Duke couldn’t immediately identify.

But most eye-catching was a metal box placed on the stone pedestal in the center.

The box wasn’t large, about an arm’s length long, and half an arm in width and height, completely made of special Mithril, with a seamless surface, smooth and integrated.

The Mithril in the dim red light exuded a cold silver sheen, sharply contrasting with the scorching surroundings.

Duke reached out, his fingertips touching the surface of the box.

The cold sensation was in stark contrast to the external temperature.

This indicated that the box had an extremely strong high-temperature isolation ability, and the items that required such a Mithril box for high-temperature storage could only be high-level Fire Attribute Elemental Crystals.

Duke extended his Spiritual Power into the box; the restriction was simpler and more fragile than the one on the door, obviously not very well protected.

It was probably because the Lord of Flames thought no one would come in here to open the box.

Duke spent about thirty seconds violently breaking the restriction with his Spiritual Power, and the Mithril box emitted a light sound as its sealed lid automatically popped open a crack.

A blazing scarlet light burst from the crack, illuminating the entire secret chamber as if it were daytime.

Duke squinted and lifted the lid.

The interior of the box was divided into seven independent grooves, each embedded with an Elemental Crystal.

But these seven crystals were completely different from those piled on the outside platform, each about the size of a human fist, smooth as a mirror, without any impurities.

Inside each crystal was like encapsulating a miniature sun, with blazing light circulating, colliding, and burning within the crystal, and even through the isolation of the Mithril box, Duke could still feel the terrifying heat energy emanating from them.

Level 3 Elemental Crystals, and of Fire Attribute that had reached the Level 3 Peak in quality.

Each of these seven Level 3 Elemental Crystals would serve as a top-tier Energy Source, vastly superior to ordinary Level 3 Elemental Crystals.

When Duke placed the Mithril box into his Space Ring, the familiar sense of repulsion arrived on schedule.

The box itself was made of Mithril, which the Space Ring could accommodate, but the seven Level 3 Fire Attribute Elemental Crystals inside caused a weak spatial disturbance, clashing with the storage space of the Space Ring, much like the high-purity Magic Metal he had encountered before.

He could only place the box in the Light God Court.

Duke dusted off his hands, stepping through the door back onto the outside mining platform.

Outside, the slave creatures were still transporting piles of ore, with steam and smoke mixed together, the noise of footsteps and shouts everywhere.

Then he ran right into three individuals, three Wizards, all from the Twenty-Third Battle Group.

Leading them was a tall, burly middle-aged man with rugged features and an old scar running from his brow to his jaw on the left side of his face.

Behind him stood a man and a woman; the man was tall and thin, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, and the woman had short hair with a pair of short-handled warhammers hanging at her waist.

Duke did not recognize them.

With hundreds of Wizards in a battle group, divided into different battalions and squads, it was normal not to know each other as they carried out their tasks.

But obviously, these three recognized him, identifying Duke at a glance.

Scarface’s gaze passed over Duke’s shoulder, looking at the open door behind him.

The secret chamber inside was laid bare, all the grooves on the three walls completely empty, nothing on the stone pedestal, clean as if someone had licked it spotless.

His expression immediately darkened.

The thin man adjusted his glasses, his lips twitching, while the short-haired woman’s hand subconsciously tightened and loosened on the handle of her warhammer.

Scarface’s gaze returned to Duke, saying nothing, but his deep brown eyes were filled with dissatisfaction.

On the battlefield, although the distribution of spoils wasn’t written in plain text, there was an unwritten rule that hogging it all to oneself was the most despised.

Whoever finds it first owns it, that’s the rule, but rules are rules, feelings are feelings.

Duke looked him in the eye calmly, his expression unchanged.

He didn’t need to change. The Wizard Council’s rules for the allocation of spoils were clear; any spoils taken personally by a Wizard on the battlefield belong to them.

The secret chamber was found by him, the restriction was cracked by him, so naturally, the contents were his.

Whether others had a chance to get a share was not his concern.

The atmosphere was silent for a few seconds, the noise on the mining platform seeming to grow distant.

In the end, Scarface said nothing and dared not really do anything, not even engage in verbal conflict.

Wartime regulations article thirty-seven: anyone inciting internal conflict on the battlefield could be stripped of all merits at best, executed on the spot at worst.

This rule was written in blood by the Wizard Council, and there had been plenty of fools who died because of it, and he didn’t need to be another.

Moreover, the young man standing across from him had a considerable reputation within the battle group; offending a talented potential over some unknown items wasn’t worth it.

Scarface gave Duke a deep look, then withdrew his gaze, turning to walk in another direction.

The thin man and short-haired woman followed behind him, their steps somewhat stiff.

After a few strides, the short-haired woman glanced back, her gaze pausing on Duke’s face for less than a second before turning away.

The three quickly vanished into the smoke and steam of the mining platform.

He weighed the Space Ring in his hand, heading toward other parts of the fortress to see if he could find more good stuff.

The southern side of the mining platform was lined with low stone houses that appeared to be the quarters and supply depots of the garrison.

Duke pushed open the stone door of the nearest one, finding scattered rough metal weapons and unprocessed ores, mostly low-grade, not worth occupying space in the Space Ring.

He cast a glance inside before withdrawing, moving on to the next one.

When he emerged from the last stone house, the sound of orderly footsteps came from the direction of the fortress’s main gate.

Rex stood on the central mining platform of the fortress, directing a few battalion leaders in distributing follow-up tasks.

His uniform still bore scorch marks from the exchange with the Lord of Flames, but his posture was still upright, his voice cold and clear.

"First Battalion, tally the spoils, categorize and record them, all Elemental Crystals above Level 1 packaged separately. Second Battalion, mop up the remaining enemy forces, search all mountain fissures within a five-kilometer radius. Third Battalion, assist the logistics team in transporting supplies, I want to see all ore piles loaded by nightfall..."

After a brief moment of chaos, the entire fortress swiftly returned to order, with Wizards and slave creatures following commands as precisely as a recalibrated machine.

Subsequently, Mateo, the Demigod-level Mage, passed not far behind Rex, his gray-white robe nearly indistinguishable through the steam and smoke.

He didn’t engage in any post-battle tasks, nor did he speak to anyone; he simply walked alone towards the rim of the mining platform, in the direction of the roiling lava lake.

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