Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 577 Blank Theater Ticket: "King of Records"

It was already fully light.

The morning light streamed through the narrow skylight, casting a small, bright patch on the ground, like the only spotlight on a stage.

Ron wasted no time.

He heeded Elliott's advice and took out "The Complete Guide to the Extraordinary" directly from his storage bag.

This book was once one of his most reliable mentors.

The giant eye on the cover always opens at crucial moments, offering him guidance in a playful yet wise way.

But at this moment, when he placed his palm on the book cover, the touch was as cold as a tombstone in winter.

There was no temperature, no pulse, and no sign of life that seemed ready to blink at any moment.

The giant eye was tightly closed, and the fine lines on its eyelids resembled decorative patterns carved on stone, giving it a lifeless appearance.

"His Majesty Saint Hector..."

Ron lowered his voice and sank his consciousness into the depths of the book:

"I need your help."

Eve…her mother is in trouble, and the entire Crown Clan may be in crisis.”

silence.

Absolute, suffocating silence.

The book "The Complete Explanation of Extraordinary Things" lay quietly in his hands, like an ordinary ancient book, unresponsive to his calls.

Ron's brow furrowed deeper and deeper.

He tried to turn the pages of the book.

Those golden words that used to automatically jump, recombine, and even mock him.

At this moment, it is simply printed quietly on the paper, as if it were truly dead.

"This is wrong..."

He carefully set aside "The Complete Explanation of the Extraordinary" and instead took out "The Core of Contradiction".

This demonic core, formed from the power of the King of Absurdity, once gave him the thrill of "manipulating the rules."

That process of forcibly blending order and chaos to create a paradoxical beauty.

Each time feels like playing a prank on the universe itself.

Ron gripped the magic core and began to try to compress the magic power.

Magic surged from his body, flooding into his magic core like a tidal wave.

The runes on the surface of the magic core lit up, and the compression command began to be executed.

Magic is squeezed, condensed, and recombined...

The whole process was smooth and efficient.

So smooth.

It was so smooth that Ron felt uneasy.

In the past, when using the "core of contradiction", there was always a subtle sense of "resistance".

It was as if the magic core itself was playfully questioning his commands:

"Are you sure you want to do this? How about trying something even more absurd?"

That feeling made the compression process full of uncertainty.

Every time is like walking a tightrope, but it is precisely this uncertainty that creates miracles that break the mold.

However, now, the magic core is just like an ordinary, obedient tool.

It obediently carried out the instructions, but lost its "spirit".

That rebellious spirit that belongs to the king of absurdity, who loves to break the rules.

Ron's palms began to sweat.

Two failures.

He took a deep breath, pinning his last hope on the "paradoxical die".

This die is the most direct manifestation of the power of the King of Absurdity.

It can distort probability, turning the "impossible" into the "already happened," making it the most mischievous challenger to the rules of reality.

Ron took out the dice and held them in both hands as if they were his last lifeline.

"Your Majesty Saint Hector, if you can still hear my voice..."

He closed his eyes and made the simplest and most direct wish:
"Give me a hint, any hint will do."

Let go.

The dice rolled from his palm, making a crisp clinking sound on the stone surface.

The dice tumbled, bounced, and spun...

Finally, it stopped.

Ron opened his eyes and looked down.

Then, his breath froze.

A die, six sides... all blank.

There were no numbers, no symbols, and no markings.

There was only pure, despairing emptiness.

It's as if even the concept of "randomness" itself has been stripped away from these dice.

Their only purpose now is to show Ron the harsh reality that "there is nothing."

The air in the enclosed room seemed to grow even colder.

Ron slowly crouched down, picked up the die that had lost its magic, and held it in his hand.

Their temperature is as cold as stone.

Three attempts, three failures.

"The Complete Explanation of the Extraordinary" is silent like a tombstone; the core of contradiction has lost its spirituality, and the dice of paradox have become blank.

All media associated with the King of Absurdity have lost their effectiveness.

This chilled Ron to the bone even more than if his life had vanished without a trace.

At least the fact that the stone sank into the sea means that the stone "exists somewhere".

But the current situation is more like...

"He is blocked."

Ron muttered to himself:

"Or rather, all of His connections with the Lord's world have been severed by some force."

He remembered the Tower (reversed) card he had seen in the divination.

The tower that was struck by lightning and began to collapse from the inside.

Cassandra's face split in two, one half majestic, the other terrified.

"Cassandra has caused far more trouble than I imagined."

Ron stood up and paced slowly in the secret room:

"Great enough that the enemies of the King of Absurdity could find an opportunity to completely block His power."

"Cassandra is not the end, she is just a fuse."

"An excuse for certain high-ranking individuals to take action against the king of absurdity in a legitimate manner."

This realization weighed heavily on his heart.

If even a sorcerer king like the King of Absurdity would be targeted because of his descendants' mistakes...

Just how brutal was the power struggle among the high-level members of the wizarding civilization?

Ron stopped in his tracks.

All conventional methods have failed.

"I can't give up."

His fist slowly clenched:

"If conventional methods fail, then we'll use unconventional ones."

"Since 'requesting' communication doesn't work..."

A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes:
"Then let's 'force' a connection."

Over the next hour, Ron drew a new magic circle on the floor of the secret chamber.

This time, he did not follow any of the rules of traditional divination or ritual magic.

On the contrary, what he wants to do is break the rules.

Use absurdity to fight against shielding, use chaos to pry open the blockade.

The core of the magic circle has had the [Observer's Eye], which symbolizes "observation of order," removed.

Instead, the symbol for the "Gate of Chaos" has been used.

A distorted vortex that can never be completely closed, forever swirling with uncertainty.

He did not draw the twelve constellations on the outer ring.

Those symbols that represent "predetermined will" seem too rigid at this moment.

He drew twelve "paradoxical patterns":
A snake that bites its own tail simultaneously spits out its own head;

A staircase that is always rising, yet it leads back to its starting point;
It is an entity that is both a mirror and a window, reflecting another version of itself...

Each pattern is a mockery of logic and a provocation of reality.

In the center circle, the alchemical patterns of the four elements were modified by him.

The triangle of flame is inverted, the triangle of water is upright, and the symbols of airflow and soil are nested together.

This creates a "contradictory state" that neither rises nor falls, nor is it stable or fluid.

In the inner circle, those planets that represent the "cosmic order" will only become obstacles at this moment.

He used his own blood to draw seven "blank rings".

It represents nothing, yet it can represent everything.

Finally, in the very center of the magic circle.

Ron laid "The Complete Guide to the Extraordinary" flat, the silent book like a sacred object on an altar.

He placed the "core of contradiction" at the center of the book as a source of energy.

The blank "paradox die" was carefully placed on the side of the magic core, like a key.

Everything is ready.

Ron sat cross-legged on the outer edge of the magic circle and drew a ritual dagger from his waist.

He didn't hesitate.

The blade sliced ​​across the palm of his left hand.

Blood gushed out, the deep red liquid flowing along the palm lines and dripping onto the edge of the magic circle.

The moment the blood came into contact with those "paradoxical patterns," the entire magic circle began to glow.

It was a distorted, eerie glow that seemed to be constantly "flickering errors".

Ron placed his hands on the magic circle, ignoring the stinging pain from his wounds.

He closed his eyes and poured all his mental energy into them like a raging torrent.

It was no longer a gentle request.

It is no longer a respectful prayer.

His will was like a battering ram, driven by an almost fanatical obsession.

Time and again, it crashes against the invisible barrier between reality and illusion:

"No matter what means you used to block communication!"

Ron roared inwardly:
"No matter how many layers of shielding you set up!"

"I don't want to be a puppet; I want to see the truth behind the scenes!"

The light from the magic circle grew brighter and brighter, and the entire secret chamber began to tremble violently.

The walls began to "melt".

Those solid stones still exist.

But in Ron's perception, their "essence" is changing.

The cold, gray stone walls gradually transformed into a soft, velvety, deep red curtain.

The curtains, like stage decorations in a theater, swayed gently in the unseen breeze, making a soft rustling sound.

The ceiling disappeared.

Instead, there was a deep, starless void.

The void was like a giant audience seating area.

Countless unseen beings are there, quietly watching the drama that is about to unfold.

The ground is also changing.

The hard stone slabs were transformed into a smooth, shimmering stage floor.

The "Complete Explanation of the Extraordinary" at the center of the magic circle is undergoing the most bizarre transformation at this moment.

The book begins to unfold, stretch, and recombine...

Ultimately, it became a miniature stage.

It was a miniature theater, exquisite in every detail, and impeccable.

A red curtain, a stage frame, and even rows of miniature audience seats.

But those seats were empty.

The spotlight came on.

A blinding white light shone down from somewhere, illuminating the center of the miniature stage.

Ron held his breath, staring intently at the miniature theater.

He could sense that some kind of "truth" was about to unfold there.

The curtain slowly rose.

There was no opening, no overture.

The puppet show began abruptly.

The first to appear was a breathtakingly gorgeous female puppet.

She wore a robe woven from countless fragments of stars.

On top of his head was a crown made of amethyst.

Cassandra.

Ron immediately recognized the entity represented by the puppet.

The Queen puppet stands on the left side of the stage.

Her demeanor was haughty and aloof, like a monarch scrutinizing his subjects.

Then, the opponent entered the game.

Moving slowly from the right side of the stage was a completely different entity.

That can't be called a "puppet" at all.

It's more like some kind of abstract, geometric creation.

Countless intricate gears, prisms, and crystals are combined in a way that transcends human comprehension to form a geometric shape.

Star Domain Lord.

Ron's heart pounded.

This is the terrifying quasi-Witch King who defeated Cassandra and whose whereabouts remain unknown to this day.

Two puppets stand facing each other in the center of the stage.

The queen puppet waved her scepter, and purple flames poured out like a raging torrent, rushing towards the geometric shape.

The geometric puppet did not dodge.

It simply stood there quietly, its body surface prisms beginning to glow.

The light was neither scorching nor dazzling, like the shadowless lamp on an operating table.

When the purple flames came into contact with the white light, something strange happened.

The flames began to "regulate".

Those originally wild, chaotic, and destructive flames.

Under the light, it gradually transformed into a standard, symmetrical, lifeless geometric shape.

The flames are still burning, but they have lost their essence of "anger".

It became a kind of "conceptual flame": only shape, no soul.

The Queen Puppet took a step back.

She began to become transparent.

The magnificent star-studded robe began to lose its color, turning into a monotonous, uniform gray-white.

The crown on its head began to twist and deform, attempting to reshape itself into a regular shape similar to that of a geometric object.

She was being "formatted".

Like a unique document that has been forcibly converted into a standard format, losing all its distinctive features.

The geometric puppet still did not "attack".

It simply exists.

Use your absolute, perfect, and impure "order" to assimilate everything around you.

The queen puppet's movements became increasingly stiff.

She tried to struggle, tried to shout.

But her joints have begun to "align" to a standard angle, and her face has begun to "simplify" into a uniform expression.

boom!
The wooden planks of the stage suddenly exploded.

A clown puppet sprang out from under the floor.

Its clothes were covered with all sorts of mismatched fabrics:
Checkered patterns, stripes, polka dots, solid colors...

Each piece of fabric is so brightly colored it's almost blinding, yet when pieced together they strangely create a kind of harmony.

One side of its face was smiling, with a huge red arc drawn on it;
The other side of her face was crying, with blue tear stains painted on it.

Two expressions coexist on one face, contradictory yet unified.

The King of Absurdity.

The clown puppet somersaulted in the air, hopped, and walked toward the geometric shape that was emitting "light of order".

The geometric puppet "senses" the newcomer.

Its polyhedral head turns towards the clown, and the mirror reflects the clown's comical image.

The light began to focus, attempting to "format" the clown.

The clown puppet stopped in its tracks.

It tilted its head, watching the white light grow brighter and brighter.

then……

He pulled a banana out from behind his back.

An ordinary, yellow banana, even with a few brown spots. The clown puppet, right in front of the geometric figure, slowly and methodically peels the banana.

I ate the fruit inside.

Then, it casually tossed the banana peel onto the path the geometry was taking.

The geometric puppet continued forward.

Its movement trajectory is a straight line, its pace is precise and constant, and the span of each step strictly follows a certain mathematical formula.

Its "foot" stepped on a banana peel.

At that moment, the "physical rules" of the entire stage seemed to be distorted.

Geometric puppets—that represents absolute order, perfect logic, and an unshakeable existence...

It slipped.

It fell straight backward in a cartoonish and extremely comical way.

The entire process was silent, yet it was filled with an absurd comedic effect.

The geometric shape tumbled out of control and crashed into the stage backdrop.

The curtain was smashed open, leaving a huge hole.

The geometric shape vanished into the void behind the hole.

All that remained were fragments of gears scattered on the ground and a few shattered pieces of mirror.

The clown puppet clapped his hands, as if he had just done something insignificant.

It turned around and finally looked at the queen puppet that had become semi-transparent.

The Queen Puppet was now slumped on the ground.

Her star-studded robes were tattered, her crown was askew, and the flame on her scepter had gone out.

She raised her head and looked at the clown with her empty eyes.

The clown puppet walked up to her and squatted down.

It took a piece of cloth from its bosom and gently wiped the dust off the Queen puppet's face.

Then it stood up and turned to face the "audience"—that is, Ron, who was watching all of this from the secret room.

The clown puppet bowed deeply.

It stretched out its right hand, and suddenly a piece of paper appeared in its hand.

It was a theater ticket.

There was nothing written on the ticket.

There was no title of the play, no seat number, and no performance time.

The clown puppet gently pushed the blank theater ticket forward.

The theater ticket slipped from its hand and floated in the air.

They crossed the boundary between the miniature stage and reality and arrived in front of Ron.

Ron instinctively reached out and caught it.

The moment he held the ticket in his hand, he felt a warm power emanating from the piece of paper.

That's something more abstract—a "possibility".

When he looked up at the miniature stage again, the clown puppet had already done an exaggerated backflip and jumped back into the hole in the floor.

"Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding..."

The clear sound of bells echoed in the secret room.

The red curtain slowly fell, obscuring the stage.

The miniature theater began to shrink, blur, and disappear...

In the end, it turned back into the book "The Complete Explanation of the Extraordinary".

The entire secret room was restored to its original state.

The walls were still cold stone, the ceiling was still solid rock, and the floor was still the ineffective reverse divination circle.

Only the blank theater ticket in Ron's hand proved that what had just happened was not an illusion.

He looked down at the theater ticket.

The paper quality is very ordinary, and the feel is also ordinary.

The edges were even a bit rough, like a stub that had been casually torn off from some third-rate theater.

But this seemingly worthless piece of paper weighed heavily on Ron's mind:

This is the King of Absurdity's "response" to himself.

Just then, the book "The Complete Guide to Extraordinary Things" was finally opened.

The pages rustled softly, like the breathing of a sleeping person.

The giant eye on the cover remains closed.

But in the blank spaces of the pages, lines of crooked, childlike scribbles began to appear:
"Those who are just watching the show shouldn't try to steal the lead actor's lines."

The handwriting has a mischievous feel to it:

"That clueless guy who only knows how to 'copy and paste' has been tricked by me into going to the other side of the universe for a 'system update'."

"For now! Note, only for now... I can't worry about you little ants anymore."

"As for my troublesome offspring..."

The subsequent strokes became noticeably more hasty, as if restraining some kind of emotion:

"She dug her own hole, so she has to fill it herself. That's the rule."

“I saved her once and gave her a chance to escape from the ‘kingdom of gods’.”

"She'll have to figure out how to climb out herself."

Ron's fingers gripped the blank theater ticket tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The text continued to appear:

"The stage is set up and the spotlights are on."

"The blank ticket in your hand allows you to be a safe audience member..."

"We can also let you go on stage and give an impromptu performance."

"It all depends on whether you have the guts and whether you're qualified, little guy."

The last line of text was written in extremely messy handwriting, making it almost illegible:
"Also, stop using such a rough method to 'make phone calls'!"

“My ‘signal’ is being listened to by some guy with absolutely no sense of humor.”

“If you speak directly, you'll get ‘censored,’ understand?”

"Next time we contact each other, remember to do it in a more 'absurd' way. For example..."

"On a full moon night, tell yourself a joke in front of a mirror that you yourself don't believe?"

"Walking backwards while chanting spells in the rain?"

"Or, why not just recite children's poems aloud in public?"

"In short, the more illogical, the better."

Those 'boring guys' hate illogical things the most, hehehe..."

That's all for now.

The pages of "The Complete Explanation of Extraordinary Things" stopped turning and slowly closed.

The giant eye on the cover remains closed, as if it had never woken up.

Ron sat in the center of the magic circle, remaining motionless for a long time.

He looked at the blank theater ticket in his hand, then at "The Complete Guide to Extraordinary Things," which had fallen silent again.

The bizarre puppet show kept replaying in my mind.

Cassandra was "formatted".

The Star Domain Lord tripped over a banana peel.

The King of Absurdity, like a clown who had just pulled off a prank, somersaulted and disappeared offstage.

"so……"

Ron understood what the other person meant:
"Cassandra is still alive, but in a dangerous situation."

"She's trapped somewhere and needs to figure out how to 'climb out' herself."

"The King of Absurdity cannot intervene directly for the time being, because He is dealing with some adversaries of the same level."

"As for me……"

He looked again at the blank theater ticket in his hand:

"I was given a choice."

"To be an audience member, or to be an actor."

Ron slowly stood up and walked to the mirror in the secret room.

The reflection in the mirror showed a pale face, chapped lips, and eyes full of exhaustion.

The wound on my left palm is still bleeding.

The bright red liquid dripped from my fingertips onto the ground, making a soft "drip-drip" sound.

But his gaze was more resolute than ever before.

"I've never been one to enjoy sitting in the audience."

He said to himself in the mirror:

"Now that the stage is set and the spotlight is on..."

"Then let me see just how far this play can go."

He carefully tucked the blank theater ticket into his inner pocket.

The piece of paper was pressed against the heart, and a faint pulse, like a heartbeat, could be felt.

Outside the skylight, the sun had already risen completely.

A new day has begun.

………………

On the other side, in the "Cradle" star system.

The "Star Domain Lord" hovered in mid-air, his multifaceted head spinning wildly.

Each mirror reflects a different equation.

The equations poured down like a waterfall, densely packed and layered, yet without exception they all pointed to the same conclusion that He could not comprehend.

error.

They're all wrong.

But how is this possible?

He is the embodiment of absolute order, and His very existence is the definition of "correctness".

In His dimension, there should be no concept of “error”.

However, reality is cruelly mocking His beliefs.

In the void before Him floated a miniature universe.

It was a transparent sphere containing infinite possibilities.

The surface of the sphere was shrouded in chaotic energy as dazzling as the aurora borealis, and each ray of light told a story that was absurd to the extreme.

That was the masterpiece of Saint Hector, the king of absurdity.

A "logic prison" specially designed for the "Star Domain Lord" to imprison His enormous computing power.

In this miniature universe, all laws have been maliciously altered:

The answer to "1+1" can change depending on the observer's mood.

When you're happy, it equals 2; when you're sad, it equals 3; and when you're angry, it might even equal a dancing purple elephant.

A straight line has been redefined as "the longest distance between two points".

Any entity that tries to walk in a straight line will find that the longer it walks, the further it gets from the destination, and eventually it will draw a perfect circle in the same spot.

The action of "moving forward" here also includes the attribute of "moving backward".

With every step forward, you involuntarily take half a step back; the only way to reach your destination is to run with your back to it...

The consciousness of the "Star Domain Lord" is being tormented to the brink of collapse by these absurd rules.

Whenever He thought He had found the answer, that answer would immediately turn into a new problem.

He began to get genuinely "angry".

For the first time, a being composed of absolute rationality experienced the irrational emotion of "anger".

The culprit who caused all this is now sitting on the edge of this crystal palace, leisurely crossing his legs.

This avatar of Saint Hector, the King of Absurdity, wore his signature patched clown costume, his face painted with half-smiling, half-crying face paint.

He was holding a lollipop that appeared out of nowhere, and he was licking it with relish.

The color of that lollipop changes with every lick:
Red turns to blue, blue turns to green, and green transforms into a "transparent, resonant sound" that defies description...

"Tsk tsk tsk..."

Hector clicked his tongue dramatically.

He tilted his head, observing with great interest the "Star Domain Lord's" agonizing struggle through his strange eyes, one smiling and the other weeping:

"Look at this poor, simple-minded guy, how earnest he is!"

I've practically blown my brains out, but I'm still stubbornly searching for the 'answer'.

He licked the lollipop again, and this time, the candy turned into a "screaming pink":
"What a pity, dear Mr. Geometry, you'll never understand..."

He suddenly stood up and gave a theatrical bow, the bells jingling:

"Some questions simply have no answers! That's the biggest joke in the universe! Hahahaha!"

Laughter echoed through the crystal palace, each syllable carrying a power that distorted reality.

The "Star Domain Lord" finally "turned his head around".

With His ever-rotating, multifaceted head that reflects countless equations.

It stared at the intruder.

"The King of Absurdity..."

Each of His syllables is like the turning of a giant gear.

Heavy, mechanical, yet filled with a kind of suppressed anger:

"You...shouldn't...be...here..."

"Oh? 'Shouldn't'?"

Hector made a face of extreme surprise.

He placed his hand on his forehead, gazing into the distance:

"Let me think...where should I be?"

"Should we 'act' according to the rules set by you 'order-makers'?"

"Should they stay obediently in my little dark room and not cause you any trouble?"

"Should they be watching my descendants being formatted into standard parts by you, and then applauding and cheering?"

His tone rose higher and higher, eventually becoming almost an operatic aria:

"I'm sorry~ My biggest flaw is that I never know what 'should' means!"

As soon as he finished speaking, He snapped his fingers.

The miniature universe that had trapped the "Star Domain Lord's" consciousness immediately underwent a new change:

All the physical constants started dancing.

They broke free from the equations and transformed into tiny figures dressed in tuxedos.

They spun and leaped in the air, even forming a small choir, singing off-key:

"We are constants, yet we are not constant at all."

Hector sat back down on the edge, looking at his "work" with satisfaction.

He knew that the prison wouldn't last long.

The essence of the "Star Domain Lord" is too powerful.

He will find a breakthrough sooner or later and break free from this logical paradox.

The little time we've gained is enough.

That's enough for Cassandra to figure out how to get out of this predicament on her own;
This is enough for the wizards of the main world to prepare;

That's enough to allow those truly important "variables" to finish their roles on stage.

"Take your time, you silly goose."

Hector licked the lollipop again, and this time it turned a "silent gold":
"I have other things to do."

……

But just as Hector was about to leave and return to monitor the situation in the main world,

A crack silently appeared at the boundary of the dimension.

The crack resembles a precise incision made with a scalpel:
The edges are smooth, the depth is controllable, and even the "spatial tissue" around the incision is not damaged in any way.

A completely different will seeped in from that crack.

His arrival did not bring any visual impact.

There was no light, no energy fluctuations, and not even the slightest dimensional tremor occurred.

But Hector's smile froze at that moment.

Because He sensed an "aura" that He found extremely repulsive.

That was absolute "stillness".

That is the eternal "final draft".

"King of Records..."

For the first time, Hector's voice lost its cynical lightness and became deep and wary:
"Salcardo, what are you doing here?"

The will that seeped in from the crack slowly condensed into shape.

He did not choose a lavish way of appearing, but appeared in this dimension in the simplest and most "reasonable" form.

It depicted a middle-aged man wearing a dark gray robe and holding a quill pen.

His face was so regular that it had almost no distinguishing features.
Neither handsome nor ugly, neither young nor old, just the kind of "ordinary face" you'd glance at in a crowd and immediately forget.

But His eyes revealed a certain frozen quality.

Those eyes showed no emotion, only an almost mechanical "focus".

It's as if it's scrutinizing everything in the world, judging whether they conform to a predetermined "script".

His right hand held an ordinary-looking quill pen.

There is no ink on the pen nib.

But when He makes a light stroke in the air, time and space themselves are "written".

Things touched by His pen will be given a "comment".

A standard answer to "what it should look like".

Once defined, that thing can never be changed.

　The quill pen and the story of writing mentioned in the introduction are coming soon!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)