Ordinary mortals couldn’t survive on this plane at all; even Allen felt a bit unwell.

Stepping off the Teleportation Platform, the ground didn’t feel like soil.

Allen looked down. His boots were treading on some kind of dark red granular substance, making a "CRUNCH" that set his teeth on edge.

It was a mixture of cooled lava slag and metal scraps, covering the entire landscape.

Looking down a path ahead, he saw a massive complex of buildings, like a great beast crouching at the foot of a rolling range of volcanoes.

It wasn’t a castle or fortress in the traditional sense. It was more like a wild, sprawling, three-dimensional factory, with countless thick pipes clinging to the volcano’s surface like blood vessels.

Giant gears turned slowly with a thunderous roar, and each engagement seemed to make the very ground tremble.

Hundreds of towering smokestacks pierced the clouds, staining a patch of the sky a scorched black.

And nestled among the various industrial facilities, countless Rune Cannon Platforms flickered with a dangerous red light.

This was the Forged Fire Fortress.

Or, to put it another way, this was a nail named "Conquest" that the Wizard Civilization had driven into this plane.

’If I’m not mistaken, my mentor should be in there.’

"WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH—"

Something shot past overhead.

Allen looked up and saw several squads of flying Golems roaring past in "V" formations.

Each squad had twelve, perfectly uniform, as if they’d been copied and pasted.

Meanwhile, on the ground, a steel torrent of heavy transport vehicles flowed ceaselessly along a well-trodden road into the fortress’s gaping maw.

One stone mountain had even been cut in half to serve as an airport, where Floating Ships of all sizes landed and took off in an orderly fashion.

"This is... magnificent."

Allen marveled from the bottom of his heart.

Compared to the ivory-tower elegance of the academy, every inch of the air here reeked of iron and fire.

This was the ultimate application of the alchemy school: industrialized warfare.

"You are Allen Wesren?"

A voice with a slight metallic quality sounded from behind him.

Allen turned to see a tall figure hovering half a meter off the ground, who had appeared at some unknown point.

It was a "giant" over three meters tall.

Almost no human flesh and blood could be found on his body. His limbs had been replaced by Alchemy Machinery, his chest was a solid plate of armor inscribed with complex Runes, and only half of his head retained human skin. The other half was a faintly blue cybernetic eye.

He was also surrounded by eight soccer-ball-sized Floating Cannons.

[Target Analysis: Normal Magic Power Fluctuation Peak at 2300.]

[Assessment: First-level Wizard (Veteran). Deduced Path: Alchemy School, Body Ascension Branch.]

DSeek quickly delivered its assessment.

"I am." Allen nodded slightly, neither servile nor arrogant. "And you are?"

"I am Gordon, one of Lord Mercer’s adjutants."

Gordon’s cybernetic eye swiveled, seeming to scan Allen’s data.

"A little later than scheduled. However, considering this is your first time traveling between planes, it’s within an acceptable range."

"Follow me."

Without waiting for Allen to reply, he turned and flew toward the fortress at an extremely high speed.

Allen raised an eyebrow, activated Flying Magic, and followed as a blur of motion.

The closer they got to the fortress, the more intense the oppressive feeling became.

The massive main gate was wide enough for five transport vehicles to pass through side-by-side.

There were no living creatures guarding the gate, only two massive, twenty-meter-tall war Golems. The Magic Power fluctuations they emitted were on par with a Second-level Wizard.

Once inside, the roar in his ears instantly doubled in volume. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

There were no neat streets here, only a tangled web of metal catwalks and conveyor belts. Countless Golems and Alchemy Puppets bustled about, sending sparks flying amidst billowing steam.

"Beyond the gate is the raw material processing center."

Gordon’s voice reached Allen’s ears with perfect clarity, transmitted by Magic Power.

"Every day, this place processes over one hundred thousand tons of ore. The refined metals are then sent to the core workshops inside to be turned into Golem parts or sold."

He led Allen through the bustling factory area and into an elevator that went straight to the top floor.

As they ascended, the cacophony from below gradually faded away.

"As Lord Mercer’s student, you have one privilege." Gordon suddenly turned his head, his blue cybernetic eye fixed on Allen.

"You get an Intermediate Workshop right off the bat. But I must warn you, in the Molten Iron Mountain Range, all resources must be earned by your own efforts."

"If you can’t defend your own territory, or fail to submit your quota on time, your workshop will be repossessed. But if you can last for the full twenty years, the workshop will be yours for good."

Allen smiled. "Sounds fair."

Gordon gave him a deep look and said no more.

The elevator stopped at the fortress’s highest level.

The doors slid open, and a vast, profound wave of magical pressure washed over him.

It was an immense, circular hall. The surrounding walls were made entirely of transparent crystal screens. On them, countless images flashed by at high speed—overhead views of battlefields raging with combat, endlessly scrolling inventory lists, and the movements of Magical Beast hordes marked with red lines.

A man stood in the center of the hall.

His back was to Allen, and he wore a simple, unadorned silver robe.

But the robe wasn’t made of cloth. It seemed to be alive, its surface constantly rippling like liquid metal, as if it were in a perpetual state of flux.

He turned around.

He had the young face of a man who looked to be around thirty, so handsome it was almost unsettling.

Long silver hair was casually draped over his shoulders, but the most striking feature was his eyes. They had no pupils, only two faintly blue crystals.

Morning Star Wizard, Mercer Iron Star.

"Mentor," Allen said, coming to his senses and bowing in salute.

Mercer didn’t speak immediately. Twelve diamond-shaped screens of light hovered beside him, and he was using his Spiritual Power to operate on all of them simultaneously.

"The 7th Golem Legion will advance three kilometers on the left flank and cut off the Crystal-Shelled Scorpions’ retreat."

"Notify the logistics department to return this batch of substandard cores. Tell their person-in-charge that if it happens again, I’ll stuff him into a furnace."

"The Defense Array in Sector B-12 is overloaded? Have the tech team take spare materials. If they can’t fix it, they don’t need to come back."

A stream of commands issued from his mouth—calm, precise, and devoid of any emotion.

A full two minutes passed before all the screens of light dimmed simultaneously.

The faint blue light in Mercer’s eyes gradually faded, returning to a normal color.

He looked at Allen, his gaze like someone inspecting a brand-new product fresh off the factory line.

"First-level Wizard." Mercer nodded, his tone flat. "Your total Spiritual Power is decent. It seems you haven’t neglected your training for the sake of those trivial business ventures."

"Thank you for the praise, Mentor."

"It’s not praise, it’s a fact." Mercer walked over to a massive holographic sand table. "Now that you’re here, let’s skip the pleasantries. Look here."

"This is the combat zone that’s being assigned to you."