Mechanical Heart

On a barren gravel plain eternally ravaged by violent winds, the air was filled with a suffocating deathly silence.

There was no vegetation here, no water source, and even the hardiest low-level magical insects had vanished without a trace.

The plain was covered in gravel of all shapes and sizes. They had not formed naturally; they looked more like the remains left behind after some grand structure had collapsed and endured the erosion of elemental winds for countless ages.

The surface of every stone had been weathered as smooth as a mirror, displaying shades of dead gray, dark brown, and crimson like dried blood.

The violent wind howled, sweeping up fine stone chips that struck the ground with sharp crackling sounds, like countless dead souls whispering.

Suddenly, two distorted ripples flashed through the sky above the wasteland, and elemental particles churned violently.

Two figures tore through the air, force field shields swirling around them to repel the sand and dust, before they silently landed upon the gravel-strewn ground.

They were two wizards dressed in gray robes.

The one on the left was gaunt, with deeply sunken eye sockets and traces of still-damp potion reagents staining his cuffs. The one on the right was somewhat plump, his fingers covered in rings of various enhancements.

Both appeared middle-aged, their bearing calm yet vigilant. Spiritual power fluctuations belonging to First-Ring Wizards radiated from them both—the cold aura honed by time and countless life-and-death experiments.

The moment he landed, the plump wizard, Barlow, swiftly pulled a withered finger bone from some unknown creature from his robes and quickly drew a simple warning formation around them.

Only after finishing did he turn around, his eyes fixed firmly on his companion.

"Austin, now that we're here, put away your spiritual power tendrils."

Barlow's voice was hoarse,