If one were to ask what the most valuable part of a wizard's inheritance is, knowledge would undoubtedly be one of the answers.
Magus suppressed the joy rising in his heart and quickly approached the bookshelf, his eyes swiftly scanning the titles.
"Composition," "Materials Science," "Life Energy Structures," "Fundamentals of Enchantment Runes," "Principles of Puppet Mechanics," "Basic Puppet Construction," "Puppets and Golems."
Over eighty percent of the books were related to puppet manufacturing.
It was obvious that the owner of this place had an intense passion for that craft—almost to the point of obsession. No wonder he had created a construct like the Iron-Eating Beast.
Still, where had this Wizard Apprentice gone afterward?
Magus had a faint suspicion. After thinking for a moment, he turned toward the desk.
The solid-wood surface was coated with a thick layer of dust, and it was empty. Magus pulled open the drawers beneath it. The first few were empty, but in the last one he discovered two diaries, a ring, and two small boxes.
He picked up the top diary and opened it.
The slightly yellowed first page contained only a single line of text:
"Anger MacLean, recorded in Starlight Calendar 1124."
Starlight Calendar 1124… about a hundred and twenty-five years ago.
"The appearance of the Iron-Eating Beast in the Black Stone Mining Area was said to be more than a century ago," Magus mused, continuing to flip through the pages.
The diary paper, whatever material it was made of, had miraculously remained intact after all that time.
"Starlight Calendar, April 12, 1124."
"Today, I completed the exploration of the black stone iron ore vein. As I suspected, the reserves are extremely rich. Now I will have ample material for my puppet experiments. This is wonderful news! I've decided to build a laboratory deep inside the mine as my future residence."
"Starlight Calendar, February 8, 1126."
"The Black Rock Leopard experiment has finally reached a crucial breakthrough! It won't be long before I successfully refine my first puppet construct!"
"So that kind of puppet is called a Black Rock Leopard," Magus murmured, raising an eyebrow.
"Starlight Calendar, March 15, 1127."
"Hahaha, success! I finally refined my first Black Rock Leopard! This is my unique puppet construct. I truly am a genius!
"However, its combat power is still lacking—considerably weaker than a Formal Knight. There are many aspects that can be improved, and I need to gather more combat data. Fortunately, there are plenty of knights outside. Let them serve as the opponents for my Black Rock Leopard. What a lucky bunch of test subjects!"
"Starlight Calendar, June 10, 1128."
"The improvement experiments went smoothly. The Black Rock Leopard now possesses combat strength comparable to a low-level knight. Unfortunately, that cowardly lord abandoned this mining area. I'll need to find new targets to collect battle data—perhaps the Black Scale Lizardmen to the north will do."
Each diary entry contained only a few sentences, yet the intervals between them were long—sometimes more than half a year.
Later entries mostly recorded the progress of Anger's ongoing improvements to the Black Rock Leopard. Occasionally, there were notes about meditation, studying spells, or venturing out to gather materials.
From between the lines, it wasn't hard to discern that Anger MacLean was arrogant, reclusive, and disliked contact with the outside world.
He was, however, a Third-Level Wizard Apprentice.
On the resource-poor Starlight Continent, within the harsh Elemental Desert, to advance to a Third-Level Apprentice before turning a hundred was no small feat. Anger was indeed a genius, and had reason for pride.
But as he aged, Anger gradually shifted his focus from puppet research to cultivation. His tone in the diary grew anxious and confused.
"Starlight Calendar, September 20, 1162."
"My mental power seems to have reached a bottleneck. For over half a year, there has been no significant growth. Perhaps I should seek external aid."
"Starlight Calendar, January 4, 1163."
"Fortune smiles upon me! I discovered a formula for the Evil Illusion Potion. If I can concoct it successfully, it might solve my problem of stagnant mental power!"
"Starlight Calendar, May 19, 1165."
"Damn it! Why can't I find all the ingredients listed in the recipe? I followed the book's records exactly, searching every noted region, but they're nowhere to be found. Could the text be wrong?"
"Starlight Calendar, February 6, 1167."
"So that's it—the elemental loss, the sharp decline in energy-particle concentration. This continent has become a barren wasteland! No wonder I haven't met another Wizard Apprentice in years.
"No. I refuse to give up. If I can't find the materials, I'll create substitutes. I won't believe that my wisdom cannot overcome this!"
"Starlight Calendar, April 4, 1169."
"Experiment failed."
"Starlight Calendar, February 9, 1170."
"Experiment failed."
The following entries continued in that same despairing refrain—pages upon pages of failure.
"Starlight Calendar, March 16, 1192."
"No. No matter how much I extract and purify these inferior materials, their effects will never match the required high-grade ones. This potion can never succeed!
"Damn it! I can't accept this!"
The next dozen pages were filled with curses against the world—lines dripping with frustration, resentment, and hopelessness. Anger's writing revealed a man crushed by despair, a wizard who saw no future ahead.
But after Starlight Calendar 1200, his tone suddenly changed. His words grew calmer, almost serene.
"Starlight Calendar, December 3, 1200."
"I can feel my life force fading. It seems my time is short.
"Perhaps Biological Modification could extend my life, but that's not my expertise, and I refuse to turn myself into something neither human nor ghost merely to survive.
"No—perhaps it's because such modification would destroy any remaining chance of advancing to a Three-Level Wizard.
"If I can't ascend, what meaning does a longer life hold?
"What a Three-Level Wizard seeks is truth, not eternal life."
"Starlight Calendar, May 5, 1202."
"Death draws closer. I can almost smell the decay of my flesh.
"Yet I found something remarkable—a legend of the Tower of the Shooting Stars recorded in an ancient text. It's said to be a wizard inheritance left by true Wizards of the ancient era. Perhaps there lies a way to advance to a Three-Level Wizard. This is my final hope.
"I have decided to search for the Tower of the Shooting Stars!"
The Tower of the Shooting Stars!
Magus's eyes lit up.
In his fragmented memories of his previous life's game, The Tower of the Shooting Stars was one of only three wizard inheritances on the Starlight Continent in version 1.0.
Unlike this modest laboratory left by a mere Wizard Apprentice, the Tower was a true legacy—a sanctuary left behind by a genuine Wizard.
It was the final gift of goodwill bestowed by the mighty Wizards who had once traversed the Multiple Universes a thousand years ago.
Such a place, without question, must hold vast stores of knowledge and priceless materials.
If he could find the Tower of the Shooting Stars, advancing to a Three-Level Wizard would no longer be a dream.
Excitement surged in Magus's chest. He turned eagerly to the next page—only to be met with emptiness.
"It's… gone?"
He flipped through the remaining pages—every one of them blank.
Evidently, Anger MacLean never returned after leaving to search for the Tower of the Shooting Stars.
Whether he ever found it or not remained a mystery.
Magus suspected the answer was no.
Otherwise, this laboratory would not have lain untouched for the past fifty years.
The realization brought a tinge of melancholy.
With Anger's brilliance and potential, had he lived during the Wizard Era a thousand years earlier, he would surely have become a formidable Three-Level Wizard.
But he had been born in the wrong age—an era where the elements dwindled and the arcane declined—and so his talent withered, his life wasted, and he died with regret.
"A Three-Level Wizard's despair…" Magus murmured softly.
The dust danced in the stale air, motes glinting faintly in the dim light of the abandoned lab. The air carried the scent of age and decay—of brilliance long extinguished.
Magus gently closed the diary.
For a long while, he stood silently before the desk, lost in thought.
Every word Anger had written seemed to echo in his mind—the arrogance, the hope, the desperation, the final resignation.
The fate of a genius shackled by the decline of his world.
He ran a hand across the cracked leather cover, as if feeling the lingering warmth of the long-dead Wizard Apprentice.
Then, with a deep breath, he set the diary back in the drawer.
Perhaps Anger's dream had ended here—but for Magus, it was only beginning.
End of Chapter 13 — "What Wizards Seek Is Truth, Not Immortality."