Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

At dawn, the morning mist in the central region had not yet dissipated.

Ron stood at the entrance of the manor, watching the first rays of dawn gradually brightening the horizon, silently planning his upcoming itinerary.

"Paradise," the place even the King of Absurdity called a "mental tumor," is finally about to open its doors to him.

The soft hum of an engine came from the mist.

A silver-gray private aircraft slowly descended, the magical ripples of its hovering engine spreading through the air and dispersing the thin mist at its feet.

The hatch opened, and a slender figure stepped out.

Good morning, Associate Professor Ron.

Cecilia bowed slightly, her movements as precise as a textbook example of etiquette.

But the cunning in those amber eyes revealed that the owner was not so "dignified" at the moment.

Ron sized up the maid in front of him.

He was still wearing that standard black and white uniform, and his short silver hair was still neatly combed.

But his overall demeanor is indeed completely different from that of him more than 20 years ago in the quicksand.

At that time, Cecilia was like a sharp but rusted sword, exuding an aura of indifference that said "keep away."

She would nitpick every detail, scoff at anything imperfect, and even bombard targets she found unbearable.

He confined himself to the "Mirror Pavilion," a realm he controlled completely, and stayed there for decades without ever seeing the light of day.

But now.
"That's what Princess Eve told me~"

Cecilia blinked, deliberately mimicking the tone with a drawn-out, languid, and arrogant manner:
"Cecilia, you should accompany your mentor on a trip to the amusement park."

Remember, keep him informed of his condition at all times, don't let him get hurt, and above all, don't let those lunatics corrupt his mind!

She imitated her perfectly, even mimicking Eve's slight chin tilt when she spoke.

Ron couldn't help but chuckle: "She really said that?"

"Of course not~"

Cecilia immediately resumed her normal tone, revealing a mischievous smile:
"The original words were actually more serious, something like, 'Make sure to ensure the safety of your mentor. The situation inside the park is complicated, so you must always be vigilant.'"

"Nothing"

She tilted her head:
"I think my translation is more expressive."

At least it revealed His Highness's little scheme of 'being genuinely worried but pretending to be just doing official business.'

Ron shook his head and chuckled, then strode toward the aircraft.

Cecilia followed behind him, continuing in a lighthearted tone:
"Actually, I can't get into the 'paradise' either. You can just listen to this advice."

"By the way, His Highness is currently at the ancestral home of the Crown Clan, saying there are some 'rituals' that must be completed."

"Her breakthrough to the Moon-level is no longer in doubt; it's just a matter of time."

"But what's giving her the biggest headache right now is that the elders of those academic alliances insist that she complete a bunch of red tape first."

"What 'bloodline purity certification,' 'absurd authority resonance test,' 'formal oath ceremony for heirs'?"

Cecilia rolled her eyes:
"Anyway, it's a bunch of ridiculous rules that sound impressive but are actually just old-fashioned things people use to stall for time and make their presence known."

Ron stopped in front of the hatch and turned to look at her:
"So she can't come?"

"Ah."

Cecilia nodded, her expression becoming more serious.
"Moreover, with Your Highness's current strength, going to 'Paradise' wouldn't be of much help."

"Those are all prisoners of the Dark Sun level and above; even ordinary Moon level prisoners wouldn't be there."

She shook her head:
"Forgive my bluntness, but it will probably only become a burden."

"Or worse, become a 'toy' in the eyes of those lunatics."

These words, though blunt, are true.

Ron nodded and asked no more questions before boarding the aircraft.

The interior decoration is very simple.

Soft leather chairs and a small coffee table with tea set and snacks.

"Please take a seat."

Cecilia gestured for Ron to sit down, then expertly walked to the driver's seat herself.
"It takes about half an hour to get to your destination from here. I have prepared some tea and snacks, so you can rest for a while."

The aircraft started smoothly and began its journey towards its destination.

Ron leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes to rest for a moment, and then suddenly spoke:
"Your magic compression is nine times?"

"Yes."

Cecilia's voice came from the driver's seat, tinged with pride:
"Thanks to Your Highness's resource support, progress has been relatively smooth recently."

"If nothing unexpected happens, I should be able to reach the Dark Sun level in about ten years."

Ron wasn't surprised, after all, he was a cheater, and his breakthrough time couldn't be used as a reference.

In just over a decade, the growth rate increased from nearly eight to nine times, which is actually quite fast.

It's important to know that the difficulty increases exponentially with each doubling of magic compression.

The fact that Cecilia was able to make this leap over the years shows that she is not only exceptionally talented, but has also found a training path that suits her.

"So it seems that the 'failure' in the quicksand was actually a good thing for you."

Cecilia's hand paused slightly on the joystick.

After a while, the silver-haired maid chuckled softly:
"really."

"Although the complete failure at 'Night of Elements' shattered my 'perfectionism'..."

"But looking back now, it was probably the most important turning point in my life."

Her tone softened:
"Before that, I always felt that the world didn't meet my standards at all."

“Every detail has flaws, and nothing is perfect.”

"So I locked myself in the 'Mirror Gallery' and tried to create a world with only 'perfect reflections'."

"They've been locked up for decades."

"But what was the result? I became increasingly narrow-minded and paranoid, until I almost forgot myself."

She activated the aircraft's autopilot mode and slowly turned around:
"Forget the true meaning of the word 'perfect'."

The aircraft passed through a cloud, and sunlight streamed through the porthole, illuminating the silver-haired maid's face and causing dappled light to dance on her cheeks.
"Even now, I still strive for perfection."

"But I've come to realize that true perfection is never about being 'flawless,' but rather about 'accepting imperfection.'"

"Like this world, it is chaotic, absurd, and full of contradictions."

"But that's precisely why it's so vivid."

Ron listened to these insights and nodded slightly in agreement.

Cecilia has indeed grown up.

She is no longer the "perfectionist" who only hides behind the mirror and criticizes the world.

Now, she is more like a practitioner who has truly stepped out of the ivory tower and begun to embrace the complexities of reality.

"correct."

Cecilia suddenly remembered something:
"His Highness has another message for you to convey."

"She said that once I break through to the Dark Sun level, if you have already started establishing a base in the 'Chaotic Blood World'..."

"I hope I can go and help too."

Ron raised an eyebrow: "What do you think?"

"I?"

Cecilia tilted her head and thought for a moment:
"To be honest, I'm quite curious."

"A world ruled by the 'Blood King,' a chaotic war among the thirteen vampire clans, and legends about 'bloodline authority.'"

"I heard that the 'nobles' there live in vampire-style castles, feed on blood, and can even turn into bats."

"It sounds like a monster story from some old fairy tales, but it actually exists in reality."

She turned to look at Ron, her eyes filled with expectation:
"Moreover, working for a 'monster-level' powerhouse like you should be much more exciting than staying in the clan as a 'decorative elder'."

I've always wanted to see what kind of sparks would fly when my 'Mirror Image' met those 'Blood Spells'.

"but."

She changed the subject, her tone becoming somewhat playful:
"I'll be working under you then, so please consider our past 'shared hardships' in the quicksand."

"Treat me better?"

As she spoke, she deliberately added in an exaggeratedly pitiful tone:
"Don't follow the example of those heartless bosses who make you work overtime until late every night, only pay half your salary, or deduct performance bonuses at the drop of a hat!"

Ron chuckled: "You think I would mistreat my own people?"

"That won't happen."

Cecilia said with a smile:
"I just wanted a verbal promise in advance."

"After all, His Highness said that although you are a gentle person, once you get serious, the intensity of your work can drive a person to the point of questioning their existence."

"I don't want to be assigned to work overtime every day decades later, just after breaking through to the Dark Sun level."

Ron was amused by her appearance:
"Don't worry, I'll treat you normally. And..."

His tone became serious:
“If you can really break through to the Dark Sun level, when you come to the Chaotic Blood World, what I need will definitely not be just ‘employers’. What I need is ‘collaborators’ who can stand on their own.”

“The waters of that world are very deep, Cecilia, so deep that even I have only just touched the edge.”

These words made the maid put away her joking expression.

"I will try my best."

The aircraft smoothly traversed the clouds, heading towards its destination.

About half an hour later.

"Associate Professor Ron, we're almost there."

Cecilia's voice roused Ron from his meditative state.

He opened his eyes and looked out the porthole.

The familiar skyline has come into view.

Towering wizard towers, staggered floating buildings, and a circular rail transit system that winds around the city like a silver ribbon.
This most prosperous commercial port in the Huanyuan Continental Group shimmered with a dreamlike brilliance in the morning light.

The aircraft began its slow descent.

Soon, they arrived at that neighborhood.

Ron looked out the porthole.

The streets were still bustling with people.

The green-skinned goblin held aloft a crystal ball that automatically changed color, touting its so-called "prophetic abilities" in a shrill voice;
Orc blacksmiths displayed steaming weapons at their open-air stalls, the sound of their hammers echoing like thunder through the street;
A half-elf merchant, dressed in a magnificent robe, elegantly introduced "pure moon dew from the depths of the Moon Well";
The dwarf craftsman, meanwhile, was shouting from a corner, claiming that his alchemical amulets would "protect you for life."
Everything was just as lively, bustling, and full of life as it was twenty years ago.

But when Ron's gaze fell on the three-story building sandwiched between the materials shop and the alchemy workshop...
He could clearly feel that everyone's gaze was "naturally" sliding over that area.

The vendors would call out their wares to within three meters of the small building's entrance, then inexplicably turn and walk away elsewhere;
Pedestrians would walk straight toward the small building, but just before bumping into the door, they would suddenly and mysteriously veer away, as if the building didn't exist at all;
Even the messenger birds flying in the air would change course when they approached the small building, as if they were being gently "pushed" away by some invisible force.
Three cognitive barriers.

“There is forgetting,” “memory fuzziness,” and “cognitive rejection.”

Ron could clearly "see" the layers upon layers of magical runes, which covered the entire building like an invisible spider web.

This is the work of the King of Absurdity, and it's also the reason why this portal has remained hidden in the bustling city for thousands of years without being discovered.

The aircraft landed in an open area near the small building.

The hatch opened, and Ron and Cecilia stepped out one after the other.

"Instructor Chloe should have arrived by now."

Cecilia glanced at the communication crystal:
"Caroline messaged me ten minutes ago saying she had dropped her off at the door."

Ron nodded and walked towards the small building.

Sure enough, a slender figure stood quietly in front of the wooden door with the faded notice on it.

The blind witch is wearing a dark gray astrological robe today.

Those eyes, hidden by black silk, were now "looking" in Ron's direction.

Although she couldn't see, her "gaze" was terrifyingly precise, as if it could penetrate the body and see directly into the soul.

Good morning, Associate Professor Ron.

Chloe bowed slightly.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

"I just arrived."

Ron stepped forward:
"Are you ready?"

Chloe paused for a moment, then nodded:
"Yes, that 'king' said I must go there."

“He said I saw too many ‘possibilities’ to construct a ‘unique’ self.”

"I need to go to 'Paradise,' that place where only 'broken uniqueness' remains."

Her voice was somewhat ethereal.
"Go and find a mirror that belongs to me."

Upon hearing these words, Ron understood.

The essence of the virtual body is the embodiment of "self-awareness".

It needs a clear, firm, and unique core concept to support it.

Chloe, as a top astrologer, possesses the ability to "observe possibilities."

She can see countless branches of fate and foresee countless possible future paths.

This ability made her a powerful prophet, but it also became the biggest obstacle to her constructing the Void.

Because when you can see "ten thousand possible versions of yourself" at the same time
Can you still be sure which one is your "real self"?
“The observer of ‘possibility’ must confront the grave of ‘possibility’.”

Ron stated his judgment:
"Only in that place where only 'fragmented uniqueness' remains can one find their own 'unique' path."

“The prisoners in ‘Paradise’ are all madmen who are consumed by some kind of obsessive ‘uniqueness’.”

"All their 'possibilities' died, leaving only the most extreme, purest, and most twisted 'only'."

And you

He looked at Chloe:
"We need to piece together our own 'mirror' from these 'fragmented uniquenesses'."

"It's not about imitating them, but rather about 'understanding' why they went down this path of no return."

"Then find your own 'anchor' within it."

Chloe gave a bitter smile:
"To put it lightly."

"But the madness of those prisoners is said to be able to tear apart an unprotected mind."

"In the countless branches of the future, I saw a thousand ways to die, three hundred ways to go mad, and seventy-two... well, indescribable 'transformations'."

"But there is only one path that leads to 'blank space'."

She raised her hand, her pale fingers tracing lines in the air as if plucking invisible threads:
"At the end of that road, the thread of fate broke."

"I can't see anything, hear anything, or even perceive any possibility." Her voice became ethereal:
"It's like standing at the edge of the world, with nothing but pure 'non-existence' ahead."

"But strangely enough, my intuition was screaming at me to choose that path."

"It's like..."

Chloe turns to Cecilia:
“It’s as if only by stepping into the ‘blank’ can I truly ‘see’.”

These words sent a chill down Cecilia's spine.

Only Ron responded indifferently:
"Then follow your intuition. Sometimes, the meaning of prophecy lies precisely in the 'unseen' part."

Chloe paused for a moment, then looked relieved.
"You're right."

Just then, another maid, Caroline, also came over.

The group nodded to each other and exchanged a few brief pleasantries.

"Then we'll wait for you here."

Cecilia looked at the wooden door, her eyes filled with apprehension.
"To be honest, this place makes me very uncomfortable."

"Even from this distance, I could feel something 'peeping' at me from behind the door."

Caroline nodded in agreement.
"Me too. I always feel that if I stare at that door for too long, I'll be 'dragged' inside by something."

Ron understood how they felt.

As Moon-level wizards, their senses were sharp enough to vaguely detect that distorted mental radiation.

Despite the presence of three cognitive barriers, it can still instinctively make people feel uneasy.

"We'll send you a message once we get out."

The two maids nodded and turned to leave.

Only Ron and Chloe remained, standing in front of the wooden door with a sign that read, "Beware of vicious dogs."

Ron took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob.

The next second, an immense pressure emanated from inside the building.

It was still that sense of "observation" that transcended comprehension, as if some ancient behemoth had slowly opened its eyes and cast its gaze upon these two tiny insects.

Chloe's body was somewhat stiff.

She could "see" countless threads of fate tremble violently in that instant, and then... snap simultaneously!
"This is."

Her voice trembled:
"'Unobservable Land'!"

"My astrology completely fails behind this door!"

Ron turned his head to look at her:
"Do you want to go in?"

Chloe bit her lip, and after a moment, nodded vigorously:
"want."

"it is good."

Ron pushed open the door.

The warm yellow light shone brightly.

The warm-colored wooden tables and chairs are arranged in an orderly manner.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of ground coffee beans.

A gramophone in the corner was playing soothing music.

Everything was so warm and pleasant, so normal.

The only problem is that every head here is upside down.

Chloe's face turned deathly pale as soon as she stepped into the coffee shop.

Although she is blind, her magical perception allows her to clearly "see" everything around her:
The guests sitting at the table had their necks twisted at an unnatural angle, their faces towards the ground and the backs of their heads pointing upwards;
Those coffee cups floating in mid-air had their liquid flowing upwards, defying the most basic laws of gravity;
Even the concepts of "up, down, left, and right" in the walls, floors, and ceilings become chaotic and disordered in this space.
"vomit……"

Chloe covered her mouth, trying to suppress the urge to vomit rising in her throat.

She felt her sense of balance completely destroyed, and the whole world was spinning.

"Don't use your magical senses."

Ron's voice rang in my ears, steady and powerful:
"The 'absurd' rules here will distort the way you perceive things."

"The more you try to 'understand' it, the more you will be dragged into chaos by it."

He reached out and placed his hand on Chloe's shoulder, a gentle magical energy flowing into her body:
"Put away your astrology, put away your magical perception, and even put away your 'logic'."

"Here, all you need to do is 'accept'."

"Don't ask 'why,' don't think 'this is unreasonable,' just tell yourself..."

"'These are the rules here.'"

Chloe tried her best to follow Ron's instructions and gradually reduce the reach of her senses.

When she stops trying to "understand" everything around her and simply "accepts" it.

Miraculously, the intense dizziness began to subside.

Although I still feel unwell, at least I don't feel nauseous anymore.

"You've come!"

A waiter floated over enthusiastically, headfirst.

His neck was twisted at an incredible angle, and a bright smile graced his face.
"What a rare guest! It's been so long since we've had any!"

"What would you two like to order? Our specialties today are 'melancholy coffee' and 'exhilarating tea'!"

Ron politely shook his head:
"We've come to see 'Mr. Sunflower'."

"oh--!"

The waiter clapped his hands as if he had just realized something:
"Then please come this way!"

He pointed to the familiar sunflower oil painting on the wall.

Just as Ron was about to take Chloe over, a deep voice suddenly rang out from the corner of the coffee shop:
"and many more."

Ron and Chloe turned their heads at the same time.

At a small table in the corner sat a person they hadn't noticed before.

That was an old man.

He wore a simple gray robe, and his gray hair was neatly combed.

His face was etched with the lines of time, but his eyes remained as sharp as an eagle's.

He was the only person in the entire coffee shop with a "normal" head.

The old man sat upright in his chair, holding a delicate teacup in his hand.

The tea in the cup is spinning counterclockwise, flowing along an "impossible" trajectory, like a miniature vortex.

“Mr. Diaz.”

Ron recognized the other person.

Eve's great-grandfather and bodyguard, an old wizard at the peak of the Dark Sun level.

The old man put down his teacup and slowly stood up:
"You've arrived, that's great, the timing is perfect."

He looked at a clock on the wall, whose hands were also turning counterclockwise:
"A little later, Mr. Sunflower will be going to sleep."

"It's been a bit grumpy lately."

If I get woken up

Diaz said meaningfully:
"The consequences will be very troublesome."

He ignored the "absurd" sights around him, not even glancing at them.

Just like those upside-down heads, reverse-flowing liquids, and distorted spaces, they were all just "backdrops" in his eyes.

Diaz led the two men straight to the sunflower painting.

It's still that same golden flower field.

Ron keenly noticed that the sunflowers' posture was quite different from that of more than twenty years ago.

They no longer face the "sun" in unison, but instead begin to face different directions.

Like a group of lost sentinels, they searched in bewilderment for a vanished target.

When Diaz approached, the sunflower "came to life".

The seeds at the center of the flower head began to rearrange and recombine, eventually forming a comical human face:
An exaggerated nose, thick lips, but exceptionally sharp eyes.

"Oh! It's the Crown Clan again!"

Mr. Sunflower's voice carried the seriousness of an old scholar:
"Bloodline verification! Standard procedure! No room for carelessness!"

Diaz remained expressionless and took out a small ceremonial dagger.

"Click."

The blade sliced ​​through his fingertip, and a few drops of bright red blood dripped onto the picture frame.

The sunflower stretched out its slender vines, dipped them in a little blood, and began to "taste" it like a seasoned wine connoisseur.

"Um"

It frowned:
“Direct royal bloodline, very pure lineage.”

"But."

Sunflower's expression turned confused:
"Why does it taste so special this time?"

"There's a very strong, 'boring' bitter taste, and a hint of... rust?"

"No, it's the smell of rust in 'waiting'!"

"There's one more thing."

Its tone became even more confused:
"The bitterness of 'regret' and the spiciness of 'determination'."

"Your blood tells a very, very long story, old man."

Diaz did not respond to these comments.

He spoke in an almost commanding tone:
"Open the 'Paradise' passage."

“Okay, okay!”

Mr. Sunflower immediately dropped his joking attitude:
"I wish you... oh, I mean, to go to 'paradise'."

Its expression turned strange:
"Then I wish you 'good luck'!"

"Although I think that people who get in don't need much 'luck' but rather 'courage'."

The words fell silent, unlike when Eve had come twenty years ago.

This time, the painting did not rotate or have any passageways.

On the contrary, the sunflowers in the painting began to wither.

The golden petals quickly turned black, curling and falling off as if burned.

The twisted flower head behind it was revealed.

The center of the flower head split open, revealing a wound from which pus oozed.

The wound was slowly expanding, its edges curling up to reveal the nauseating flesh and blood inside.

It was a damp, constantly wriggling area.
"lesion".

Chloe's voice trembled:
"A huge, rotting 'tumor'!"

“There are countless ‘broken souls’ inside, wailing, struggling, and tearing each other apart.”

"But it was forcibly stitched together by some 'higher power,' forming something that 'shouldn't exist.'"

Her voice trembled so much she could barely speak:
"A purgatory of collective consciousness!"

Diaz took a step back, keeping his distance from the open wound.

He turned to Ron: “Associate Professor Ralph.”

“The rules of ‘the park’ have been loosened.”

"Your purpose for this trip—to heal and take one person away—is the promise of the 'King'."

"But the king's attention is no longer on the stage."

The old man looked intently at Ron:
"This means that while He has given you authority, He cannot protect you at all times."

“You are both the ‘actor’ and the ‘script’ itself.”

"In there, your every move, every choice you make, the object of your redemption, the goal you abandon."

"They will all become 'part of the story,' recorded and interpreted by 'the park.'"

Diaz's voice became ethereal:
Please be extremely careful.

He concluded by saying:
"I'll be waiting for you at the exit."

"No matter how long."

After saying that, the old man turned around, found a corner in the coffee shop, sat down, and picked up the cup of tea that could never be finished.

Only Ron and Chloe remained standing in front of the gaping "wound" oozing purple pus.

Ron took a deep breath and held out his hand:
Are you ready?

Chloe hesitated for a moment, then simply grasped his sleeve, her pale fingers trembling slightly.
"Ready."

"Although I was very scared, but..."

The witch gave a bitter yet resolute smile:
"This is the 'only' path I have chosen."

The two of them stepped toward the withered wound.

The moment I stepped in.

All the upside-down customers in the café turned their heads in unison, staring at them with their inverted, distorted faces.

Then, everyone spoke at the same time, their voices like an eerie harmony:
Welcome to 'Paradise'!

May you find it.

"'only'"

With this eerie blessing, Ron and Chloe disappeared into the purple abyss.

The wound is healing slowly.

The withered sunflowers miraculously bloomed again, restoring the golden sea of ​​flowers.

It was as if nothing had ever happened.

Diaz sat in the corner, holding a teacup, his gaze piercing through the walls of the café, fixed on some unseen direction.

After a long silence, he murmured to himself:
"My king."

"What kind of mess will the person you've chosen make of 'Paradise'?" (End of Chapter)