Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 472 Thunder and Fire Tyrant
Upon hearing about the possibility of bloodline evolution, Ron was somewhat excited, as this was precisely the purpose of his visit.

His first "Chimera" head definitely needs further reinforcement.

The addition of lightning elements will make the entire Chimera bloodline system more complete.

"Could you describe the specific characteristics of the 'Thunderfire Tyrant' bloodline?"

"'Thunderfire Tyrant' is an extremely rare mutated bloodline among the Thunder Dragon Clan, appearing only seven times in history. Its foundation is the Star Ring, and it is easier to advance to the Moon Ring than similar dragon species."

Acelia explained in detail the unique characteristics of this bloodline:

"First of all, all fire attacks will have a lightning strike effect, which can not only cause burning damage, but also paralysis and nerve shock."

Even if the enemy can withstand the flames, they will find it difficult to resist the direct attack of lightning on their nervous system.

"Secondly, strength will increase exponentially in a stormy environment."

Thunderclouds can provide you with a continuous source of power, and lightning can even be used as a means of attack.

Her tone became full of anticipation:

"Imagine what you would become if you simultaneously mastered the fury of fire and the speed of lightning?"
The enemy is no longer facing simple elemental attacks, but a perfect fusion of two completely different powers.

This proposal is indeed very tempting.

Ron quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind, but he remained cautious throughout.

Are there any risks or limitations associated with this bloodline fusion?

"Of course there are risks; no great power comes for free."

Acelia said honestly:
"The process of blood fusion is extremely painful, equivalent to completely reconstructing your physiological structure at the cellular level."

Furthermore, after the fusion, your physical characteristics will undergo slight changes; your eyes will emit a lightning-like light when you gaze, and your skin will display dragon scale patterns when you are angry.

Ron carefully weighed this information.

The minor changes in appearance are acceptable, but the key is that this bloodline evolution can indeed significantly enhance combat capabilities.

"So, what specific conditions are required for the ceremony?"

"It needs to be carried out in the environment where elemental activity is most active, preferably in an area where thunderstorms and fire coexist."

Acelia replied:
"Coincidentally, the keel resonance during this triple lunar eclipse will create a perfect environment for fusion."

"We only need to find the location of my remains and utilize the essence of my bloodline preserved within to complete the entire ritual."

"Moreover, the timing was just right."

Performing bloodline fusion during the peak of Elemental Night increases the success rate by more than three times compared to normal times.

Just then, Patri issued a warning signal from the air.

Ron immediately focused his attention on the current tactical situation.

But deep down, he had already made a decision.

The terms offered by Acelia are indeed tempting, and from a profit perspective, this cooperation would be significantly beneficial to both parties.

A wise dragon soul possessing complete memories of the Second Era is indeed priceless.

"I need time to think about it."

He said to Acelia in his heart:
"But in principle, I am very interested in this kind of cooperation."

Acelia's voice was filled with satisfaction:

"Understanding: Wise people never make hasty decisions."

………………

Deep within the Flame Crystal region, the air is violently distorted by the high temperature, making it as blurry as looking at the world through the surface of water.

Huge columns of lava erupted from the ground and solidified in mid-air into various strange shapes.

Some resemble giant flowers, while others are like twisted sculptures, radiating a fiery orange-red light.

Cecilia moved gracefully through the sea of ​​fire, her "aesthetic realm" shining with a unique brilliance under the high temperature.

Countless crystal mirrors danced around her, each perfectly reflecting the brilliance of the lava, rearranging the originally raging flames into an orderly symphony of light and shadow.

"This kind of natural aesthetic power..."

She gently stroked a newly formed fire crystal, her eyes revealing an artist's fascination:

"Chaos contains the most primal order, and wildness reveals the purest beauty. With just a little adjustment..."

With her will, the surrounding lava began to slowly reshape itself.

The originally disordered eruption of magma, guided by an invisible force, formed a beautiful arc like a fountain.

The scalding liquid traced a perfect parabola in the air, and the sparks it created upon landing were precisely controlled, as dazzling as fireworks.

Baroque stood not far away, silently observing all of this.

Although deep down he also had a strong desire for "perfection".

But seeing Cecilia's abilities still sent a chill down my spine.

"This woman's pursuit of 'beauty'... has gone beyond normal boundaries."

He secretly became wary:

"She's not appreciating beauty; she's forcibly creating it. She's imposing her own aesthetic standards on the entire world..."

Just as this delicate balance was being maintained, a series of hurried footsteps came from the depths of the lava labyrinth.

Five figures gradually became clear from the firelight; it was a small team from the Stoneheart tribe.

Their skin is dark gray and as hard as granite, allowing them to move freely in this high-temperature environment.

Each person's body was covered with a layer of natural mineral scales that shimmered in the firelight.

Leading the way was a young soldier, burly and with sculpted, sharply defined muscles.

But what is most striking is the huge, shocking scar on his face.

The scar extends from the left temple to the right jaw, almost splitting the face in two.

The edges of the wound were irregularly jagged, clearly a mark left by the claws of some kind of ferocious beast.

In the culture of the Stoneheart tribe, such scars are a symbol of supreme honor.

Only after a life-or-death struggle with the most ferocious predators in the desert can one obtain such a "warrior's mark".

Each scar represents a brush with death, a testament to a soldier's courage and strength.

But the moment that face appeared in Cecilia's field of vision, her carefully maintained "aesthetic realm" began to tremble violently.

"Do not……"

She covered her mouth and gagged, her face turning ashen.

"This level of...ugliness!"

The once orderly fragments of the mirror began to spin uncontrollably, reflecting distorted and broken light and shadow.

Temperature changes, mirror misalignment, chaotic light...

The originally perfectly balanced aesthetic system completely spiraled out of control at this moment.

"damn it……"

Cecilia staggered backward, covering her eyes with her hands:
"It's polluted, the beauty of the entire area has been tainted... My power is waning..."

The "aesthetic realm" around her began to shrink rapidly, and the fine-tuning abilities that maintained the perfection of the environment were quickly failing.

Baroque noticed his partner's unusual state and frowned.

"Is this ever going to end? They're just a few natives. Why don't we just kill them?"

His tone was clearly impatient.

In the Baroque value system, the weak should be crushed by the strong; this is the natural privilege of the aristocratic bloodline.

The presence of a few native warriors is not worth wasting so much time on.

But Cecilia's reaction exceeded everyone's expectations.

She suddenly lowered her hand from her eyes, revealing an unprecedented rage burning in her eyes.

It was a kind of extremely twisted indignation—an intolerance for the existence of “imperfection.”

"No! Absolutely not!"

Her voice began to tremble:
"I cannot allow this...this ugliness to continue to exist in this world. I want to purify...I want to make this place beautiful again..."

The warriors of the Stoneheart tribe sensed danger and instinctively assumed fighting stances.

But they couldn't understand at all what the madness in the woman's eyes meant.

In their culture, scars are a symbol of honor, a mark of courage that is revered by the entire tribe.

No one ever feels "ugly" because of these scars.

Cecilia took a deep breath, and her entire demeanor underwent a fundamental transformation.

The original elegance and composure completely disappeared, replaced by an almost devout fanaticism.

She raised her hands and began to chant an ancient and eerie incantation:

"Pulchritudo aeterna, imperfectio delenda..."

(Eternal beauty, imperfection must perish...)
As the incantation was recited, countless fine golden threads, as thin as hair, began to appear in the air.

These threads, as dense as a spider web, extend from the void, carrying an irresistible force.

Each thread embodies the concept of "perfection," radiating a mesmerizing and beautiful glow.

—Aesthetic reconstruction and perfect transformation!
Cecilia's voice was as melodious as heavenly music, but the power it contained was chilling:
Let me redefine for you... what true beauty is!

The golden threads writhed as if alive, quickly wrapping around the scarred young warrior.

The warrior tried to dodge, but the threads were incredibly fast and seemed to be able to predict his movements.

"careful!"

The other native warriors shouted warnings while unleashing their elemental abilities to disrupt them.

Earth magic formed a thick stone wall in the air, attempting to block the entanglement of the golden threads.

But these physical barriers have no effect on the aesthetic power of "conceptual".

The golden threads, seemingly non-existent in the material realm, easily pierced through all defenses and precisely wrapped around the target. The young warrior was completely bound in mid-air, unable to move.

But the truly terrifying things are just beginning.

As the golden threads tightened, the warrior's body began to undergo incredible changes.

First, there is that huge scar that symbolizes glory.

Under the compulsive influence of the concept of "perfection," the wound begins to heal slowly.

It's not a simple fix, but a complete reconstruction.

The scar tissue melted away like wax, revealing smooth, jade-like new skin underneath.

Its texture was so perfect that it even surpassed the skin of a newborn baby.

Immediately afterwards, the warrior's facial features began to be reshaped by unseen hands.

The face, which was originally rough due to years of wind and sand erosion, gradually became as exquisite as a work of art.

Her nose became more prominent and elegant, her eyes became more deep and captivating, and the curve of her lips achieved the perfect golden ratio.

Even body proportions are being adjusted by an invisible force, moving closer to the ultimate in aesthetics.

The muscle lines became smoother, the bone proportions more harmonious, and the whole body resembled the most perfect marble sculpture.

Ah...this feeling...

The modified warrior let out a dazed moan, but the voice had lost its former fortitude and become as soft as silk.

Cecilia admired her "work" with rapt attention, her eyes revealing the ecstatic joy of an artist completing a masterpiece:
"Perfect, too perfect. Now you deserve to exist in this world..."

The transformed warriors were indeed breathtakingly beautiful.

Every detail meets the most demanding aesthetic standards, making the person look like a sun god who has stepped out of mythology.

But behind this breathtaking beauty lies a far more terrifying truth.

The soldier's eyes became empty and dull, like the glass eyes of a beautiful doll.

That kind of resilience derived from life experience has disappeared.

The warrior's fierce aura dissipated, and the vibrant life force that belonged to "humanity" was completely gone.

He is now more like a work of art, beautiful and flawless, but has completely lost his essence as an independent individual.

The other Stoneheart warriors retreated in terror, their eyes filled with disbelief and fear.

One of the older shamans said in a trembling voice:

“You…you stole his ‘soul,’ he is no longer Mokaren…”

In the beliefs of the Shixin tribe, each person's soul is unique, composed of experiences, memories, and personality.

The "perfect" being before us, though possessing the body of Mokaren, has had everything inside erased.

This is more cruel than killing him.

Upon hearing these words, Cecilia felt no shame; instead, she smiled with even greater satisfaction.

"Soul? That rough, chaotic, and flawed thing?"
I reshaped him into a more perfect form of existence.

He is now the embodiment of pure beauty, transcending the limitations of ordinary humanity.

She gently stroked the smooth cheek of her "work," as if caressing a precious work of art:

"This is the true state of life, free from all imperfections, reaching an absolute aesthetic realm."

Baroque watched from the sidelines, breaking out in a cold sweat.

Although he had always known that Cecilia was somewhat neurotic.

But it was only at this moment that he truly realized that this woman was far more dangerous than he had imagined.

Her so-called "aesthetic pursuit" is essentially a complete obliteration of individuality.

In her value system, anything that does not conform to her aesthetic standards should be forcibly "corrected" or completely eliminated.

This obsession has transcended simple compulsion and risen to a level of philosophical terror.

………………

Meanwhile, the trio of the Tree of Life school were engaged in another "artistic creation."

Having finally left Giles's "field classroom," they all felt physically and mentally exhausted.

After searching for most of the day, the three of them only managed to collect a paltry dozen or so low-level fire crystals, far behind the progress of other participating teams.

This result left the usually confident modifiers feeling intensely frustrated.

"It seems we need to adjust our strategy."

Captain Caroline gently stroked her constantly writhing belly:
“Simply collecting is too inefficient; we must make up for it by plundering.”

Although her voice was gentle, the murderous intent in her eyes was undisguised.

In a natural cave sealed by ice, they found their ideal target.

Three native warriors huddled in a corner, trying to ward off the cold with the faint warmth of a campfire.

They were clearly injured in the previous battle, and their slow movements made them ideal experimental subjects.

"We've finally found a suitable conversion material."

Leona licked her lips, and her skin began to glow with an emerald green light:
“Let’s elevate these rough-and-tumble indigenous peoples… through art.”

She slowly raised her hands, and her internal plant circulatory system began to operate at full capacity.

Hundreds of thorny vines broke through the ice, but these vines were unlike any other common aggressive plants.

Their surface is covered with a silky smooth skin and exudes an enticing sweet aroma.

Their movements were full of dance-like rhythm, like a silent ballet performed in an ice cave.

An indigenous warrior was entangled by these "beautiful" vines, but instead of being pierced, he was gently wrapped up into a giant "bud".

The buds are breathtakingly beautiful, with layers of green petals as translucent as jade.

From the outside, it looks like a miracle created by nature, full of the beauty of life.

But beneath this beautiful exterior lies a horrifying reconstruction of life.

"What a beautiful work of art..."

Leona gently stroked the surface of the flower bud, her eyes revealing a maternal tenderness:
Your pain will be transformed into eternal beauty.

From this day forward, you will continue to exist for art in another form.

A faint groan came from inside the flower bud, but it was quickly drowned out by the alteration of the biological structure.

Meanwhile, Winnie was gracefully flying above the cave.

Her butterfly wings unfolded in the cold air, displaying a dazzling rainbow of colors.

Each flap of its wings releases colorful spores as fine as dust.

These spores form beautiful clouds in the air, like dreamlike aurora borealis drifting through the cave.

The two native warriors involuntarily inhaled the spores and immediately fell into a deep hallucination.

In their perception, they are experiencing the most beautiful dream.

A soldier saw himself transformed into a beautiful butterfly, fluttering freely across a flower-filled grassland.

The sun was warm, the breeze was gentle, and the air was filled with the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He felt an unprecedented lightness and freedom, as if he had been freed from the constraints of his body.

"I saw it...I saw my own wings...So beautiful..."

He laughed in his hallucination, a childlike, innocent smile on his face.

But in reality, his body is being slowly modified by the spore toxin.

Cellular structures begin to rearrange, and bones gradually soften, preparing for future "metamorphosis."

Ultimately, he will truly transform into some kind of insect-like creature, but by then his consciousness will no longer belong to his original self.

Caroline's approach was more direct and terrifying.

She walked up to the last soldier who was still conscious, a motherly smile on her face.

"Don't be afraid, child. You will soon understand how lucky you are to have been chosen."

As she spoke, her abdomen began to slowly split open, revealing the blood-red incubation chamber inside.

Dozens of parasitic wasps, each the size of a finger, flew out, each shimmering with a metallic luster like a jewel.

These parasitic wasps do not kill their hosts immediately, but instead establish "secondary nests" inside their bodies.

They parasitize the host's central nervous system and gradually gain control over the body.

A parasitic wasp landed lightly on the soldier's neck, piercing his skin like a lover's gentle kiss.

The soldier immediately felt a strange warmth, as comfortable as a mother's embrace.

But as the parasitic wasps penetrated deeper into his nervous system, he began to lose control of his body.

First the fingers, then the arms, and finally the entire body.

His consciousness remained clear, but his body no longer obeyed his brain's commands.

"I don't want this, but my body won't obey me, please kill me..."

The young soldier pleaded tearfully, his eyes filled with despair.

He could clearly feel that he was being forced to protect this monstrous woman, and he couldn't change it even if he completely resisted it.

Caroline gently stroked his hair, comforting him in a motherly tone:
"Don't cry, my child. You are now a part of my body, what an honor..."

"From this day forward, you will always be with me, sharing my power and feeling my will."

This connection is deeper than any kinship and more enduring than any romantic love.

Her voice was as gentle as a lullaby, but the possessiveness it contained was chilling.

In the Tree of Life school's reformist philosophy, individual independence is a defect that needs to be eliminated.

Only by fully integrating into the collective consciousness can one achieve a state of "perfection".

(End of this chapter)