Anser remained on guard. After examining it closely, he realized that this construct made of steel was likely already damaged.
It stood about three and a half meters tall, with a slender build. Its entire body was covered in heavy silver-gray metal like a suit of armor, sharp-edged and angular—at a distance, it looked like a warrior of steel.
'It should be a Shield Guardian.'
A Shield Guardian was a fearsome magical autonomous construct. When created, it would be bound to a specific command amulet, allowing its master to control it.
This type of construct resembled a soldier standing on alert. It possessed no intelligence; its sole function was to obey its master's commands and protect its master's safety.
Some Shield Guardians also stored one or several spells within their bodies, releasing them at specific moments.
The standard Challenge Rating of a Shield Guardian was 7. It was immune to poison, charm, exhaustion, fear, paralysis, petrification, and the poisoned condition. It possessed regenerative abilities and was extremely powerful—not something an ordinary person could own.
Anser raised his hand and knocked on its steel shell.
Clang, clang.
'Could it have naturally repaired itself after being damaged? I wonder if it can still be used?'
Unfortunately, he understood neither constructs nor alchemy, nor magic circles, nor forging, nor magic scrolls… Even if it was broken, there was nothing he could do.
'So it turns out I'm illiterate,' he mocked himself.
To avoid any accidents, he did not continue exploring alone. Instead, he went back and brought Bratt and the other two inside.
The three were extremely excited, feeling the thrill of exploring ancient ruins.
The moment Bratt entered the hall, he was startled by the Shield Guardian. "This thing isn't going to suddenly wake up, is it?"
"Almost impossible." Anser shook his head slightly. Controlling a Shield Guardian required a command amulet.
Maintaining their combat formation, the group continued exploring.
Each floor of the Black Tower covered nearly two thousand square meters. The hall itself was roughly a thousand square meters. But aside from the construct Shield Guardian, there was nothing usable left—an empty expanse.
On the inner side were several doors. Their material was the same as the Black Tower itself; once closed, they fit seamlessly, making them easy to overlook if one was not paying attention.
Bratt and Giant Tail went in one by one to investigate. When they came out, their faces were full of disappointment.
"It looks like this place was burned. It's all ashes. Even the weapons are shattered," Bratt said, holding a warped piece of iron.
"Let's go up and take a look." Anser was still unwilling to give up.
The group continued upward along a staircase on one side.
The Black Tower had twelve floors. From the outside, the divisions between levels were not very obvious, but inside, the structure was clear, and each floor had a different layout.
Since the furniture and decorations had been completely destroyed, their specific purposes were no longer discernible—only guesses could be made.
The second and third floors were also relatively spacious. Judging from the layout, they might have been a dining hall, a library, or meeting rooms of some kind. Likewise, there was nothing left inside.
The fourth floor had many rooms—possibly dormitories or something similar. Each one was spacious. There were at least fifty rooms, and every room had its own private washroom.
Anser pushed the door open, reached out, and turned on the black-stone faucet. A gurgling sound of air escaping rang out. After quite a while, a clear stream of water finally burst forth, sweeping the ashes in the basin along with it and vanishing down the drain.
"There's water!"
He turned to look at the squat toilet beside it, made of the same black-stone material, and fell into thought.
Clearly, the Black Tower had accounted for water and air circulation from the very beginning of its construction. The necessary living facilities had been integrated into the tower itself.
And after so many years, there was still clean water—meaning magical power was still in effect inside the tower.
Thinking of this, the disappointment in his heart faded somewhat.
"At least we can live here," Bratt said loudly—he and Anser were thinking the same thing.
Anyone who had lived in a high-rise knew that without sufficient water, it would be a disaster.
The group continued upward. The layouts of the fifth and sixth floors were similar to the fourth, but from the sixth floor upward there was no longer any ash. Every floor was empty—clean and spotless. Aside from the water supply and drainage system, there was nothing else.
Anser had expected as much and was not disappointed. "Come on, let's go back down. There must be a basement here."
"Right."
They returned to the first floor and felt along the walls, testing one spot after another, but found nothing.
Anser turned his head toward where the construct Shield Guardian stood. It was stationed in a corner on the inner side of the hall, and on the opposite side of the hall from it was the staircase leading upward.
"Everything is ash—so how did you survive, of all things?"
At first, he thought it was simply because the Shield Guardian was tough. But after seeing the scenes inside the tower, he had grown fearful of the terrifying power of spells, and he immediately felt that the Shield Guardian's presence was somewhat special.
"Push it aside!"
"Got it." Giant Tail set down his weapon, wrapped his arms around one of the Shield Guardian's legs, and dragged it to the side.
Bratt gently pushed on the wall. A magical glow of vitality circled around him once, the paradise mark on his chest flashed, and a tall door appeared, opening at his touch.
"So it really is here."
The group's spirits rose. They had been full of anticipation, and coming up empty-handed was always a bit disappointing.
Giant Tail and Bratt went down first, with Anser and Finn following behind.
The door was abnormally large, and the stairwell was likewise tall and wide. Each step was huge, and they could only move by hopping down.
The moment they entered the basement, a shadow whooshed past right in front of them.
"What was that?" Bratt jolted.
Giant Tail had sharp eyes. He frowned in confusion. "It looks like… a broom."
Anser hurried forward a few steps, and a square hall came into view—extremely clean. Two brooms were flying about everywhere.
When they "saw" the group come in, the brooms did not launch an attack. They continued flying along the corridor in a regular pattern. But the place was already spotless—there was really nothing to sweep.
"Animated broom."
"This is… a storage room."
Anser looked at the corridors extending out from the hall and the rows of rooms, a smile spreading across his face. At last, it was no longer just ashes.
None of the doors were locked. The group eagerly searched every room.
It was indeed a storage area. In one corner stood a small mechanical workshop.
The good news was that there were plenty of items. The bad news was that most of them were unusable.
Sundries, tools, clothing, rice and flour, various ingredients… almost all of it had turned into trash.
The mechanical workshop was likely the place used to repair the Shield Guardian. Inside was another Shield Guardian with only its upper half remaining. The surrounding rooms stored many mechanical parts, metal ingots, and the like. The signs of aging were obvious, but with some repairs they might still retain a bit of value.
Anser inferred that the Shield Guardian in the hall had been controlled to run out from the basement after the mage tower was destroyed—perhaps to investigate the situation.
The most valuable items were the six animated brooms. They were likewise construct creatures and, after so many years, remained in good condition.
They would not attack those bearing the paradise mark. With a beckon of the hand, they would come; wherever they were thrown, they would clean tirelessly.
"There's another door here." Bratt stood at the stairwell, his hand resting on the wall. "The magic mark is the key to opening it."
"Let's take a look." Anser walked over quickly.
But the moment he stepped onto the second underground level, the Rod of Security suddenly lit up. A pillar of light enveloped him, and a pulling force descended.
At the same time, a vague underground space appeared in his mind—right beneath his feet.
'A hidden room?'
He checked the rod again to confirm there was nothing abnormal. Only after nodding to Bratt and the others did he teleport over.
A flash of light passed before his eyes, and he appeared in a dim spherical space dozens of meters in diameter. The inner surface of the sphere was covered with interwoven silver and violet magical patterns. The nodes shimmered with specks of starlight, as though he were standing amid the cosmos, giving an unreal, dreamlike sensation.
There was no gravity here, yet it was not like outer space. He floated in midair and could adjust his posture freely without drifting aimlessly.
At that moment, the Rod of Security emitted a faint ray of light. The spherical space trembled. Lines of magical patterns lit up one by one, and the starry sky seemed to come alive, slowly rotating as though wandering through space.
Anser felt something stir within him and closed his eyes slightly. A three-dimensional image of the Black Tower was instantly projected in his mind. Every detail was perfectly clear—even the tense expressions on Bratt and the others' faces were rendered with complete precision.
This was the control hub of the mage tower—the astrolabe ritual array. The Rod of Security was the controller.
'Fortunately, the underground wasn't destroyed. Otherwise, it would all be over.'
He opened his eyes and looked at the intricate magical patterns around him, shaking his head helplessly.
'I can't understand it. I can't understand any of it.'
He suddenly felt a sense of inferiority, like a tall, rich, and handsome man discussing science with a top academic genius—utterly powerless.
"Meow—"
A cat's cry sounded by his ear.
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