Chapter Forty-Eight: Absolute Wealth

Alchemy—a civilization whose origins can be traced back to the most ancient of times! Some even speculate that it was alchemy that gave birth to the grand and glorious civilization of magic itself. In its earliest days, alchemy was purely the art of forging. Yet as the ages advanced, alchemy evolved, breaking past every former boundary. It ceased to be singular in focus; building upon the foundation of forging, it gradually blossomed into a series of magnificent achievements: energy concentration, transmutation, alchemical synthesis, fission, spirit conversion, and more.

Yes, alchemy is truly magnificent. At its zenith, history records that alchemists filled the very sky with armored airships that defied the imagination of the world. It was precisely because of this that Veil now wore an expression of fervent zeal—for before him stood a row of iron pipes, uncertain if they could ever be reactivated, but undeniably wrought by alchemy into magical machinery.

To find magical machinery in such a labyrinth! This discovery filled Veil with elation. Even in his own era, magical machinery was an exceedingly rare marvel—by this time, it had already become but dust in the annals of history. Yet here, hidden in this subterranean maze, someone had used magical machinery to set traps. The maze itself served merely as a defense, a means to keep intruders at bay. This implied that, once he made it through, more wonders awaited him. Just imagine—a place where even the most ordinary of traps are fashioned from rare magical machinery; what grand spectacle must lie deeper within?

His excitement, however, was soon tempered by a pressing reality—this was a labyrinth, and one riddled with traps. If he wished to see more, he would first have to solve the conundrum before him.

Gazing around, Veil noted that the walls of the labyrinth rose nearly twenty meters high, and the ceiling above was sealed tight, preventing anyone from climbing over. The walls were hewn from a stone of exceptional hardness, polished to near perfection, with hardly a seam visible between the blocks. Each wall slab was over ten meters long and wide, weighing many tons apiece. To construct such a maze would have required at least a thousand, perhaps more, of these colossal stones—an undertaking almost beyond belief.

Faced with such circumstances, Veil could only resort to the common traveler’s trick: marking the walls as he went, so as not to lose his way in this vast and winding labyrinth. The maze was a tangled web of passages; Veil could not possibly try every path. He chose instead to follow a straight course, ignoring the countless branching passages, always pressing along his original route. This was far better than blindly searching. If his choice proved correct, all the better. If not, given the maze’s structure, he was at least cutting across toward its center, from which he could deduce the possible routes outward.

For over an hour, Veil wandered the labyrinth, finding no hint of a clue. What troubled him even more was that the crimson flame in his hand had, without his noticing, grown steadily smaller, its light dimming bit by bit—his magical energy was running low.

It was hardly surprising. Veil had been expending his magic all night—first to fend off the encircling wolves, then to face the assassins. Now, as only a third-tier mage, his reserves were nearly depleted. No matter how carefully he conserved his power, it was not enough to withstand such prolonged use. Judging by the scant magic left in his mind’s sea, if he failed to find some clue within half an hour, he feared he would soon lack even the means to light his way.

He heaved a helpless sigh, took a deep breath to rally himself, and pressed onward.

It was worth noting that the traps Veil encountered grew ever more frequent, and all were magical mechanisms—an omen that whatever he sought was drawing near. This thought quickened his steps. Yet at that very moment, a strange grinding of gears echoed through the darkness, bringing him up short.

Veil channeled a bit more energy, and the flame in his hand swelled to twice its former size, casting a brighter glow around him. Only then did he realize—there was no path forward! More precisely, there were two corridors, one to the left and one to the right, but none straight ahead. Veil had reached the end.

A sharp click rang out, making his heart clench. In darkness, vigilance is heightened, nerves stretched taut; add to this the unsettling surroundings, and who could say when or where some frightful thing might suddenly spring forth?

With a flick of his wand, Veil summoned two blades of wind, which floated before him and advanced slowly toward the source of the sound.

Three meters.

Two meters.

One meter.

Suddenly, Veil leapt into the left passage. The wind blades shot forward at lightning speed—a hiss sliced the air, as if something had been severed. With a clang, a spherical object fell to the ground, rolling slowly to Veil’s feet. He brought the flame closer, and his whole body jolted in shock.

It was the head of a mechanical suit of armor!

Almost by instinct, Veil cast the light forward, revealing his own astonished expression by its pale glow. There could be no doubt—it truly was a mechanical suit.

So-called mechanical magic was, as its name implied, a fusion of magic and machinery—a construct of metal, animated by enchantment. And the mechanical suit was the highest form of this craft. Speed, strength, efficiency—in a certain era, such suits formed the backbone of an empire’s mighty army, their exploits so legendary they became the stuff of myth.

The suit before him had long since lost its former glory. Two meters tall, its metallic body was battered and corroded, covered in rust. Clearly, it could no longer function. Yet Veil gazed upon this ruined relic with eyes full of feverish zeal.

A zeal that bordered on greed—not for the suit itself, but for the technology it embodied. The magic that could set machinery in perpetual motion—so simple in appearance, yet containing unfathomable principles—far surpassed everything Veil had ever known. To him, this was the greatest treasure of all.