Exploring Technology in a Wizard World

"Rustle, rustle, rustle..."

Sande took a step to the half of the beehive left behind by the black bear and felt an impulsive irritation welling up within him. He had a strong desire to kick the beehive away—he never wanted to see anything related to beehives or black bears ever again in his life.

As he lifted his foot, he changed his mind.

Sande slowly withdrew his foot, pursed his lips, and suddenly sat down beside the beehive. He scooped up some honey with his finger and tasted it.

He still could not taste any sweetness of the honey, just a cool, sticky liquid trickling down his throat.

But as the honey slipped into his stomach, the irritability in his heart began to subside, becoming peaceful.

Sande kept eating honey and something occurred to him that rarely brought a smile to his face as he finally tasted the sweetness of the honey.

Just as he was about to enjoy another mouthful of honey, Sande stopped and turned his head toward a direction in the forest.

In his perception, a cacophony of whooshing sounds rose as a multitude of wizards moved closer, surrounding him.

Had they found him? It seemed that the final moment was upon him.

Licking his honey-covered fingers clean, Sande calmly faced the direction of the incomers.

In that moment, his heart was still because he had long anticipated this outcome.

It turned out that death was not so fearful after all, Sande thought to himself.

With a "swish," the next moment, the branches of the forest shuddered, and a figure appeared—it was Doran with short hair, followed by more than a dozen wizards of various levels.

From other directions, too, more wizards stepped out to tighten the encirclement around Sande on the clearing.

Sande, looking as if he had not even seen these people appear, continued to dip his fingers in the honey and eat.

The short-haired woman, Doran, gave Sande a surprised look, and the rest also became cautious. With Sande surrounded, they did not recklessly attack, wary of any traps.

Seeing their hesitation, Sande couldn't help but laugh and hoarsely said to the short-haired woman, Doran, "What's wrong, are you that afraid of me? I am alone, and you have dozens of people completely surrounding me, yet you dare not make a move. Don't you find it a bit shameful?"

"I don't find it shameful," said the short-haired woman, Doran, looking seriously at Sande. "Your strength is indeed formidable. What we are doing is simply giving you the attention you warrant. Isn't that very reasonable?"

"Maybe," murmured Sande, "I'm just surprised. I really didn't expect you to value me to this extent, dozens of people coming to kill me, ha, you flatter me."

"We don't want any more accidents," Doran stated gravely. "We've seen the rapidity of your power increase. Given enough time, you will become a huge problem. So why not try to kill you while you're still relatively weak? It may be a bit of a waste of resources but it's safer."

"That makes sense," nodded Sande in agreement, and then, as something occurred to him, he asked Doran, "You don't think that I will give up resisting, do you? You may indeed be many and I might be killed by you. But before I die, I am confident that I can take down quite a few of you with me. Guess among those who join me on the road to death, will you be one of them?"

Doran snorted coldly upon hearing this: "I am not afraid!"

"I know you're not afraid," Sande whispered. "But what about your companions? I can take away more than just one person."

As he spoke, Sande's gaze slowly swept over the many wizards surrounding him.

As Sande's eyes passed over them, everyone's body shook slightly, a little terrified. They had witnessed Sande's strength and did not doubt that he could do as he said.

Seeing their reaction, Doran's face changed in an attempt to not let Sande take control, her expression stern, and she shouted: "For the Truth Society! May the Truth Society live forever!"

As her words rang out, everyone was taken aback, but the next moment they responded, shouting in unison: "For the Truth Society! May the Truth Society live forever!"

Their morale immediately soared.

"Attack!" Doran commanded.

"Swish!"

"Boom!"

"Whoosh!"

The wizards surrounding Sande immediately took action, unleashing a barrage of Spell attacks towards him.

Sande's gaze hardened, slightly surprised by Doran's decisiveness. Facing the torrent of attacks, he indeed dared not resist head-on. The next moment, he released a Spell, wrapped in black mist, moving rapidly across the clearing to dodge. For the attacks, he couldn't evade, he formed black mist into Shields to endure them.

At the same time, he formed black mist into Spears, throwing them ferociously, counterattacking the wizards surrounding him. Although most of the time his attacks were deflected, occasionally they managed to hit their target, causing a scream or two.

And so, shortly after, the ground around was littered with the bodies of four wizards—killed by Sande—while under the attack of many, Sande himself inevitably sustained even more serious injuries, in an extremely poor state, nearly on the verge of death.

Wrapped in a barely noticeable black aura, his complexion as ashen as cinders, every action he took required his utmost effort.

Even so, Sande did not give up resistance. After dodging another series of attacks, he clenched his right hand and threw a Spear formed of black mist, severely wounding a First-level Wizard.

Turning his head, looking at the short-haired woman Doran with gritted teeth, Sande said, "If there are no surprises, you will soon win, soon succeed in killing me! But with my last bit of strength, I can still take one more person with me. It could be a First-level Wizard, a Second-level Wizard, maybe even a Third-level Wizard could be possible. Who do you think it will be?"

"It doesn't matter who it is, I don't care at all, as long as you are killed, that's enough!" declared Doran very clearly, also reacting very rationally, without giving Sande a chance to breathe, she waved her hand forcefully, commanding everyone to make their final attack on Sande.

Sande became more irritated and yelled at Doran: "You don't care? You're not concerned? Well then, with my last bit of strength, I'll take you with me!"

With that, Sande rushed towards Doran at high speed, his right hand ending in sharp nails made of black mist, aiming to stab at Doran's heart, trying to gouge out her heart.

Just as he made this move, Sande regretted it.

He regretted it for a simple reason: he wasn't very confident. After all, as the leader of those hunting him, Doran was a bit different from the other wizards.