Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

In the teleportation hall of the Abyss Observatory, spatial ripples spread out like water.

Ron stepped out from the light barrier, his black robes swaying gently in the aftershocks of magic.

He habitually raised his hand to straighten his collar, but paused slightly when he touched the badge on his chest.

The Abyss Crystal Badge, representing the identity of a "Dark Sun Wizard," was vibrating at an extremely faint frequency.

This is a kind of "resonance".

The abyssal energy sealed within the badge is spontaneously synchronizing with the vast magical network at the core of the observatory.

This phenomenon only occurs among newly promoted Dark Sun-level beings, and can be considered a "welcome ceremony" by the School Alliance for newly promoted powerhouses.

Through magical resonance, the wearer's energy signature is recorded into the entire alliance's defense system.

From this day forward, he will be regarded as an "ally" by the defensive barriers of all school alliances.

"Associate Professor Ralph."

A respectful voice interrupted his thoughts.

Ron turned his head and saw a young apprentice standing behind the reception desk.

The other person's eyes were full of admiration, and they were holding a thick folder that almost buried the entire reception desk.

"these are……?"

"This is your invitation letter, Associate Professor."

The apprentice carefully handed over the folder, as if afraid of wrinkling any page:
"Ever since you completed the Dark Sun-class certification at the Temple of Truth, the observatory has received a large number of invitations and cooperation requests for you."

"The stationmaster instructed me to organize and categorize them, and to hand them to you personally when you return."

Ron took the folder and casually flipped to the first page.

It was a formal invitation written in gold lettering on high-quality parchment, with intricate magic patterns adorning the edges.

These magical runes are not just decorations, but also a form of "identity verification." Only true high-ranking wizards are qualified to use these magical rune signatures that bear their personal mark.

To the esteemed Associate Professor Ron Ralph:
We cordially invite you to grace the main tower of the "Dark Hut" with your presence during the Autumn Equinox, to teach the core members of our faction the essence of "Narrative Potions".

The lecture fee is negotiable, and three sets of "Shadow Moon Flower" essence can be provided as an additional thank you gift.

—Hoffman Reita, Chief of the Elder Council, in the Dark Hut

Ron raised an eyebrow.

The Dark Hut is one of the seven major schools of thought renowned for their research into shadow and night magic.

For their elders' chief to personally sign an invitation, that's quite a show of "respect".

He continued flipping through the pages.

The second page is a collaboration invitation from the Alchemist's Guild, hoping that he can join a joint research project on "Abyssal Material Purification Technology";

The third page comes from a private research institute of a great wizard, offering extremely generous terms, even willing to provide an independent experimental tower as an "induction gift";
The fourth page is a recruitment notice from a pioneering guild in another world, promising the title of "technical advisor" and a 30% cut of the profits from each exploration...

Page after page.

A total of forty-three letters.

There were invitations to academic lectures, proposals for collaborative research, intentions for business cooperation, and even a few letters with subtle hints of a "marriage."

Some ancient clans seemed quite interested in this promising young genius, hinting in their words that they could arrange for their outstanding descendants to have "in-depth exchanges" with him.

When Ron saw the last letter, he couldn't help but chuckle.

It was from an organization called the "Abyss Explorers Association," who enthusiastically invited Ron to serve as the association's "honorary advisor."

The reason given is that "your feat of secluded cultivation for eighteen years on the fifth level of the abyss has set a shining example for all explorers."

A shining example?

Ron shook his head and closed the folder.

Some of these invitations are indeed worth considering, but most are just attempts to ride on his popularity.

Or they may be trying to establish some kind of "personal relationship" to pave the way for possible future cooperation.

That's always been the way of the wizarding world: when you demonstrate enough value, opportunities will come your way.

"Is there anything else?"

He looked at the apprentice.

"Yes, associate professor."

The young apprentice took out a recording crystal and respectfully handed it over:
"This is your latest evaluation report in the School Alliance. The site administrator said you might be interested in it."

Ron took the crystal and infused it with magic.

A semi-transparent light curtain unfolded in the air, displaying a series of data and charts:
[Evaluation Subject: Ron Ralph]

Current Rank: Associate Professor (Dark Sun Level)

[Academic Contribution Value: 88,742 (Rating: Excellent)]

[Civilization Influence Index: 6.8 (Rating: Significant)]

Overall assessment: The basic requirements for a full professorship have been met.
(To be promoted to professor, one must be promoted to grand wizard.)

Ron's gaze lingered on the "Civilization Influence Index" for a moment.

This value represents a wizard's contribution to the entire wizarding civilization, and the calculation methods are extremely diverse.

This includes the breadth of dissemination of academic achievements, the quantity and quality of students trained, and contributions in practical fields such as exploration of other worlds and resource development.

Reaching a score of 6.8 means that his "narrative potionology" has indeed had a profound impact on the wizarding world.

Those potion makers who used pure formulas, those wizards who successfully advanced in rank because of it, those apprentices who benefited from the reduced cost of potions...

Every beneficiary contributes to his "influence" without his knowledge.

More importantly, the final line of evaluation:
[To be promoted to Grand Wizard, you need to meet the requirements for becoming a full professor.]

This means that as long as he can break through to the level of Grand Wizard, the Alliance of Schools will automatically grant him the title of "Professor".

It is important to understand that the status of a full professor in the academic alliance is almost equivalent to that of the core elders of each school.

They not only enjoy extremely high academic prestige, but also wield considerable practical power.

This includes, but is not limited to, mobilizing alliance resources, influencing major decisions, and even, in certain special circumstances, having the "right to adjudicate" against lower-ranking wizards.

"It seems that my breakthrough has caused a bigger stir than I imagined."

Ron put the crystal away and nodded to his apprentice:
"Thank you for organizing it."

"It's what I should do, Associate Professor!"

The apprentice blushed with excitement and stammered, "..."
"It is my honor to serve you!"

"I...I watched your performance in the Temple of Truth the whole time through the broadcast crystal!"

"That scene was simply... simply breathtaking!"

He looked at him as if he were some legendary figure:
"You forced the Court of Truth to concede, and even made the King of Absurdity personally 'smash the scales'!"

"Your story is being told throughout the entire Central Region!"

Some say you are a 'pioneer of the new era,' some say you are a 'challenger of the rules,' and others say...

He lowered his voice, his tone tinged with a hint of reverence:

"Some people say you might become the next...that level of being."

That level.

The apprentice didn't say it explicitly, but Ron understood what he meant.

Witch King.

This title represents the absolute pinnacle in the wizarding world, a peak that countless great wizards could never reach in their entire lives.

Don't listen to those rumors.

Ron said calmly:

"I just did what I was supposed to do, as for those comments... let them be."

"Yes, it is!"

The apprentice nodded repeatedly, but the admiration in his eyes did not diminish in the slightest.

Ron said no more and turned to leave the reception hall.

The magical lights in the corridor were soft and steady, and footsteps echoed in the empty passageway.

As he walked, he mentally rehearsed his next steps:

First, we need to meet with Salamander to confirm the details of the three-person team support and deployment that we discussed earlier.
Then I need to organize my research materials in preparation for going to the world of chaotic blood;
I still need to see Eve...

Thinking of this, Ron paused slightly.

Eve.

The student who waited for him for twenty years.

The girl who grew up alone during his seclusion and became the heir to the Crown Clan.

She should have a lot to say to him now... no, she can no longer be called a "girl".

Thirty-six-year-old Eve has long since shed her youthful naiveté.

Cecilia's words were like a mirror, making him see the facts he had been avoiding:
Eve's feelings for him had long surpassed the simple bond between teacher and student.

Is the high wall he erected in his heart still necessary now?

With these thoughts in mind, Ron took a deep breath and temporarily suppressed his chaotic emotions.

Now is not the time to think about these things.

He had other things to take care of.

The communication crystal vibrated gently in his storage bag, interrupting his thoughts.

Ron took out the crystal and infused it with magic.

A giant phantom materialized.

That was Salamander's projection; the fiery giant's figure almost reached the ceiling, surrounded by flame patterns that flowed like lava.

"Ron!"

Salamanda's voice was like a rumble from underground, yet her tone held a rare joy:
"I finally got in touch with you!"

"Dean Salamander".

Ron nodded slightly:

"I just got back to the observatory and was just about to contact you."

"That's just right!"

The Flame Giant laughed heartily:
"I have something to discuss with you regarding the 'otherworld exploration team' you mentioned earlier."

"Is now a convenient time? Can I have the ethereal body project over directly, or would you like to communicate using the communication crystal?"

Ron glanced at the empty corridor around him and nodded:

"Please come directly over. I'll be waiting for you in the meeting room."

"Okay! Give me five minutes!"

The projection fades away.

Ron turned and walked toward the reception room, a vague feeling that something was wrong.

Salamanda's tone... seemed a little too enthusiastic?

Based on the great wizard's usual style, he should be more composed, more... well, more like an elder.

But that tone just now... it sounded a little... guilty?
five minutes later.

The door to the reception room was pushed open, and Salamander's enormous body squeezed in.

The Fire Giant did not fully unleash its "magma form" today.

He then compressed his body to about five meters, which was already considered "trying his best to restrain himself".

"Please take a seat."

Ron gestured for Salamander to sit on the specially made stone chair.

Those were pieces of furniture specially prepared by the observatory for large visitors, their surfaces covered with load-bearing runes.

The room trembled slightly when the Flame Giant sat down.

"Cough cough."

Salamanda cleared her throat, sounding like a low growl before a volcanic eruption.

Ron keenly noticed that the other person's expression was somewhat...uncomfortable?
His lava-like eyes flickered erratically, and his rough fingers tapped unconsciously on his knees, making dull thuds.

These subtle movements, combined with his enormous size, actually appear somewhat comical.

"Dean Salamander?"

Ron spoke first, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere:

"You just said you wanted to discuss matters concerning the exploration team?"

"Ah, yes! Yes, yes, yes!"

The Flame Giant nodded vigorously:
"This is it! Didn't I mention before that I hoped you could bring Edwin, Patricia, and Lacour along?"

"I remember you promised me that the three of them would make a decent support team, and that you might consider having them accompany you on your training trip to another world..."

At this point, Salamanda's voice gradually lowered.

His gaze began to wander, as if searching for the right words.

A sense of foreboding rose in Ron's heart.

"Did something happen?"

"It's not a big deal..."

Salamanda scratched her head:

"Well... well, the situation has changed a bit."

He took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind:

"Patrick and Laku, they... got married."

Ron was stunned.

marry?

This wasn't too surprising. During the "Night of Elements," the two of them would instinctively help each other when facing attacks, while Edwin would silently charge forward without saying a word.

Twenty years have passed, and it's only natural that they've finally achieved their goal.

Judging from Salamanda's hesitant expression, it's clear that the matter is not as simple as "marriage".

"anything else?"

"besides……"

The fire giant's voice grew even weaker.

If it weren't for his enormous size, that sound would be like a mosquito's hum.
"They...have a child."

silence.

Ron's expression remained unchanged, but his heart felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head.

She has a child.

These four words carry a far heavier meaning than they appear on the surface.

"How old is the child?"

he asked.

"She's almost ten years old."

Salamanda answered honestly:

"He's a rather cute little guy, inheriting the windbird bloodline of Paitui and the sand lizard bloodline of Laku. He has quite a bit of talent..."

"So, they can't go."

Ron stated his conclusion directly.

"Yes."

The Flame Giant nodded heavily, his tone full of apology:

"Patrick and Laku have both expressed to me that they are very grateful for your invitation and want to follow you to explore the other world."

"But……"

He sighed:
“They have to take care of the child. The child is only nine years old, an age when he needs his parents’ company.”

"Besides, you know how difficult it is for wizards to reproduce."

Salamanda's thick eyebrows furrowed:
"Patrick and Laku are both Moon-level, so being able to have offspring is already an immense stroke of luck. Such an opportunity may only come once in a lifetime."

"So they cherish this child very much and are absolutely unwilling to risk letting him become an orphan."

Ron understood what Salamander meant.

The higher a wizard's life level, the lower their chances of having offspring.

Although morning-star wizards have more difficulty conceiving than ordinary people, they still retain basic fertility.

Most people can still have their bloodline continue as long as they are willing to invest the time and effort.

But once you reach the Moon level, things take a sharp turn for the worse.

Although wizards at this stage appear no different from ordinary people on the outside, their inner life essence has undergone a fundamental transformation.

Their cells no longer rely solely on metabolism to maintain their activity, but instead require continuous nourishment from magic.

This change brought immense power and a long lifespan, but it also severed the most fundamental connection with "ordinary life"—reproduction.

For a Moon-level wizard to conceive offspring, what is needed is not simply "copulation," but rather a kind of "resonance" ritual.

Both parties must be in a specific time, a specific environment, and even a specific emotional state.

Only by deeply integrating their respective life origins can a new life be conceived with an extremely small probability.

This probability is usually less than one percent.

At the Dark Sun class, the situation became even more desperate.

Once the nascent form of the ethereal body is completed, the wizard's level of life will undergo a qualitative leap.

Wizards in this state have almost completely lost their ability to reproduce.

It's not "difficult," it's "almost impossible."

As for the Grand Wizard...

Ron recalled the information he had consulted in his mind.

Throughout the entire history of wizarding civilization, there are very few cases of great wizards successfully conceiving offspring.

And without exception, those successful cases all involved the assistance of some kind of "special power".

For example, the Witch King, who holds the power of "life," might personally intervene, or certain forbidden bloodline alchemy might be used.

This is why those ancient wizarding clans placed such importance on "bloodline inheritance".

Their ancestors—those witch kings or great witches—were no longer able to reproduce on their own.

The bloodline flowing through the clan today either comes from the descendants left by the ancestor when he was young and weak;
They either come from the descendants of the first siblings.

The reason why the ancestor was able to "protect" these descendants and pass on his power in the form of "bloodline" is precisely because there is the most primitive blood relationship between them.

Shared bloodlines allow for the transfer of power.

This is what is meant by "the stronger the power, the harder it is to reproduce; the longer the life, the rarer the bloodline."

When you become powerful enough to disregard death, the very meaning of the continuation of life begins to be questioned:
Since "I" am already powerful enough, why do I need "descendants" to continue my bloodline?
Since I can live long enough, why should I share my power with the next generation?
From a biological perspective, the essence of reproduction is "passing on genes to the next generation".

However, when "this generation" itself can continue for a long time, the necessity of "the next generation" naturally disappears.

Therefore, the more powerful a life form is, the more difficult it is for it to reproduce.

This is both a price to pay and a kind of unseen balance.

"I understand."

Ron finally spoke, his voice as indifferent as a stagnant pool:
“Patrick and Lako made their choices, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

"Children are indeed important, and I won't blame them for it."

Upon hearing this, Salamanda's shoulders visibly relaxed a bit.

Ron was still somewhat disappointed.

What he needs has never been simply "combat power".

With his current strength, plus Euphemia's years of workings in the Blood World, his direct combat power is already sufficient.

What he really lacks is "functional" talent.

Patricia's bird-like bloodline grants her exceptional reconnaissance abilities, allowing her to act as "eyes" and detect danger in advance.

Laku's terrain modification skills can create favorable terrain at critical moments and even build temporary defensive fortifications, which is extremely important in exploring other worlds.
And Edwin...

Ron sighed inwardly.

Edwin is indeed quite powerful; his lava bloodline grants him terrifying destructive power.

But he is essentially just a "tough guy," skilled at head-on confrontations and destroying the enemy with overwhelming firepower.

This kind of role is indispensable in a team.

However, for Ron's current plans... his purpose in going to the Chaotic Blood World is to "research" and "correct the wrongs," and he needs to avoid large-scale direct conflict as much as possible.

What he needs are scouts who can help him "see the situation clearly" and engineers who can help him "gain a foothold," not simply "saboteurs."

But he absolutely could not say these words to Salamander's face.

They have shown enough sincerity by being willing to lend him their precious student, Edwin.

If he still shows "disdain" at this point, it would not only be ungrateful, but also an insult to Salamander.

"What about Edwin..."

Ron brought it up himself, his tone carrying just the right amount of expectation:
"He should be fine, right?"

"Of course!"

Salamanda immediately perked up, her whole demeanor brightening:

"That kid Edwin's magic compression rate is now close to eight times, which makes him a solid late-stage Moon-level cultivator."

"Moreover, he has made great progress in practical experience and tactical skills over the years by following me."

The Flame Giant became more and more excited as he spoke, and even stood up:
"His mastery of lava tectonics is already very high. He can adjust the degree of lavaization of his body in real time during battle, ensuring both defense and mobility."

"During the last exploration of the 'World of Primordial Flame,' he single-handedly withstood the attack of three Moon-level 'behemoths' and even killed two of them!"

"I guarantee you, lending him to me will not let you down!"

Ron quickly showed his "delight":
"That's great! With Edwin joining, my team's strength will be greatly enhanced."

"Hahaha! Then it's settled!"

Salamanda burst into laughter, her laughter like thunder:
“I’ll inform Edwin as soon as I get back and tell him to be prepared.”

When do you plan to leave? That way I can arrange my time accordingly.

"perhaps……"

Ron pondered for a moment:

"About a week later, I still have some preparations to complete."

"no problem!"

The fire giant patted his chest, making a dull thud.

“A week later, I will personally deliver Edwin to the location you specify.”

The atmosphere became more relaxed at that moment.

Just when Ron thought the conversation was about to end, Salamander suddenly sat down again.

His expression turned serious, his lava-like eyes fixed on Ron:

"Oh, right, there's one more thing I need to remind you of."

"About the world of chaotic blood."

Ron's heart tightened.

He could sense that what followed might not be too optimistic.

"Something's not right over there lately."

Salamanda said slowly:

"Our explorers in the chaotic world have been reporting a number of strange phenomena."

He raised his hand, and magic gathered in his palm, forming a miniature model of the starry sky.

Two scarlet "satellites" rotate slowly in the model, their trajectories perfectly synchronized, like a pair of twins dancing together.

"Blood Moon."

Salamanda's voice was deep:
"You should know that there are two blood moons in the Chaotic Blood World."

"Normally, the trajectories of these two blood moons are staggered."

As one rises in the east, another sets in the west.

"But just a year ago..."

With a gentle flick of his finger, the two "blood moons" suddenly began to move in sync, as if drawn by invisible threads:
"They've started to synchronize."

"It runs at the same speed and trajectory, and also in cycles."

"This phenomenon has only occurred three times in the historical records of the Chaotic Blood World."

Salamander looked up and stared directly at Ron:

"Each time, it is accompanied by a major catastrophe."

"The first was the war that established the 'Thirteen Clans,' a war that lasted for a full three hundred years."

"The second was the ascension ceremony of Aiden, the 'Blood King.' The aftermath of that failed ceremony wiped out a third of the world's life."

"the third time……"

He clenched his fist:
"It's now."

Ron stared at the two blood moons rotating in sync, his brow furrowed.

"What did the astrologer say?"

"This is very bad."

Salamanda shook her head:
"The astrologers of the 'Hall of Stars' made a joint prediction, and everyone saw the same scene..."

"A blood-red ocean, and eternal night descends."

They named this phenomenon "Blood Moon Night" and believed it to be a harbinger of some kind of disaster.

"They cannot give a precise answer as to what exactly will happen."

"But one thing is certain..."

The fire giant's voice turned solemn:

"Those vampires are becoming increasingly unstable."

"The remaining explorers over there report that the civil war among the vampires is escalating, and even some nobles who still retain their rationality are beginning to show signs of losing control."

“What’s even stranger is…”

Salamanda lowered her voice:

"Some people claim that on nights when two moons shone together, they heard some kind of 'calling'."

“An irresistible ‘calling’ from the depths of one’s blood.”

"Even our vampire hybrid explorers stationed there are starting to be affected."

"Two guys have been urgently recalled because their bloodline has begun to 'mutate,' exhibiting strong aggressive tendencies and bloodthirsty impulses."

As Ron listened to this information, his mind raced.

Blood Moon Synchronization, Vampire Mutation, Mysterious Summoning...

These phenomena clearly point to one possibility:
Aiden.

That mad Blood King is likely planning something big.

Or perhaps, his "madness" is spreading outwards in some way, affecting the entire vampire community through blood ties.

"I understand."

Ron nodded:
"Thank you for reminding me, Dean Salamander."

"I will be extra careful."

"Being careful isn't enough."

The fire giant stood up and looked down at Ron:

"My advice is—if it's not absolutely necessary to go, it's best to postpone your plans."

"We'll consider entering that world once the signs of the 'Blood Moon Night' have subsided and the situation has stabilized somewhat."

"otherwise……"

He shook his head:

"You may get caught up in a crisis that is far beyond what you expected."

Ron was silent for a moment, then raised his head, his eyes resolute:

"Thank you for your concern, Dean."

"But I have to go on this mission."

"Moreover, the more chaotic the situation, the more likely it is to hide opportunities."

"The 'Blood Moon Night' may be a crisis, but for me..."

A slight smile appeared at the corner of his mouth:

"It could also be an opportunity to break the deadlock."

Salamanda stared at him and sighed:

"Fine, since you've already made up your mind, I won't try to persuade you any further."

"Just remember..."

He reached out his rough hand and patted Ron heavily on the shoulder:
"Although Edwin is my student, now that I've lent him to you, his life is in your hands."

"If you encounter a crisis that you cannot handle, don't try to be brave."

"Staying alive is the most important thing."

Ron nodded solemnly:
"I will."

Salamander turned to leave, her massive form pausing briefly at the doorway:
"By the way, Patricia and Laku said they want to call you."

"They want to apologize to you in person and also want you to see their children."

"I've sent you their contact information. You can decide what to do next."

After saying that, the Flame Giant pushed open the door and went out.

The meeting room returned to silence.

Ron leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath.

Patricia and Lako's departure, though unexpected, is actually quite reasonable upon reflection.

Power, responsibility, bonds... every choice comes with its own price.

And he himself...

Ron opened his eyes, his gaze becoming even more profound.

His choice was to pursue higher power and explore deeper truths.

Having come this far, there's no turning back now.

"Let's go back to our accommodation and tidy up first."

He watched Salamander leave, and only after her enormous figure disappeared into the spatial rift did he turn back to his residence at the observation station.

The room's bookshelves were neatly arranged with various classic books, and the laboratory table was filled with carefully categorized material containers. The clock on the wall ticked regularly.

Everything here remains exactly as it was before he left—a result of the years of maintenance that Ailan and Dyer have helped him maintain.

"Master, do you need me to help you pack your luggage?"

Ailan's voice came from the doorway.

The tree spirit remained the same, with green hair cascading down to her waist, and eyes filled only with tenderness and trust.

The only change was the faint magical fluctuation emanating from her—the aura of the Morning Star.

"Thanks a lot."

Ron nodded and began taking out the items he had accumulated over the years from his storage space.

Potion ingredients, lab notes, alchemical semi-finished products...

The items are laid out on the table one by one, and need to be sorted and organized to decide which ones to take and which ones to leave here.

"Wow..."

A slightly worn wooden box slipped from the depths of the storage bag and fell to the floor with a dull thud.

The clasp on the box came undone, and the contents rolled out.

It was a finely crafted violin, its surface gleaming with a warm, woody sheen, and the strings reflecting a pale gold hue under the light.

Ron was stunned.

He bent down to pick up the violin, his fingers gently tracing its surface.

The touch was familiar yet strange, like a memory sealed away by time. It should have been vivid, but now only a blurry outline remains.

"This is……"

His brows gradually furrowed.

There are signs of use on the instrument.

Although minor, the wear on the fingerboard and the tiny dents at the strings tell the story of how this instrument was once played with care.

It is not a decoration, but a real musical instrument that has been used.

However, that's where the problem lies.

Ron clearly remembered that he hadn't touched any musical instruments since arriving in the Central Lands.

Research, practice, and exploration have already consumed all of his time and energy.

Therefore, the wear and tear on this instrument must have come from an earlier period—the apprenticeship period in the Black Mist Forest.

but……

Ron tried hard to recall that time.

He remembered clearly everyone who had given him gifts: his father, his brother, Andrei…

But the giver had no idea what to do with this violin, this valuable gift that was clearly carefully chosen and even came with a music theory tutorial.

It's as if... someone's image has been erased from memory.

They left only the items they had given them as the sole evidence that the person had ever existed.

"Owner?"

Ailan noticed Ron's unusual behavior and asked with concern:

"What's wrong with you?"

"This instrument."

Ron looked up at the tree spirit:

Do you remember who sent it to you?

Ailan tilted her head, her eyes filled with confusion:

"Well... I'm not quite sure either."

I remember it always being in your private collection, but who exactly gave it to me...?

She tried hard to recall, her brows furrowing deeper and deeper:
"It's strange, I feel like I should remember, but I just can't recall it."

It's like... like something's blocking the gap between memory and consciousness, the more you think about it, the blurrier it becomes.

A chill ran down Ron’s spine.

This isn't right.

As a tree spirit with a long lifespan, Ailan's memory is one of her strengths, so it's impossible for her to be in a situation where she "should remember but can't recall".

Unless some force actively interferes with memory.

"Dale!"

Ron raised his voice and shouted into the next room.

"Here I am, here I am, Master!"

Light footsteps sounded, and a figure peeked in from outside the door.

The Siren Girl's transformation was far greater than Ailan's.

Twenty years ago, Dyer was a slightly naive young girl.

Although she already displayed the unique charm of the siren race, her overall demeanor still carried a touch of naivety.

But now... she has completely transformed.

Her slender figure had perfect curves, and her silver hair undulated behind her like ocean waves, each strand shimmering with tiny specks of light, as if it had blended into real seawater.

Her skin still has that healthy glow and whiteness, but compared to her teenage years, she now has a unique charm that comes with maturity.

What's most striking is her eyes; you can really see the ocean waves surging deep within her pupils.

This is a sign that the siren is approaching maturity, meaning that her bloodline power is awakening to a new stage.

"Master, did you call me?"

Dyer entered the room.

Ron handed her the violin:
Do you remember who gave you this?

The siren took the harp and examined it carefully for a moment.

Then, her expression became confused.

"This one……"

Dyer's brows furrowed, and her voice held an unusual hint of confusion:
"It's strange, Master. I feel like I should know, but I just can't remember."

"and……"

Her fingers lightly touched the strings, producing a soft tremor:
“I can feel that this instrument retains the ‘aura’ of its owner.”

"But Master, you clearly rarely play musical instruments..."

The reactions of the two attendants confirmed Ron's suspicions.

The instrument and the person who gave it to them were clearly erased from their memories by some force.

In some ways, it's more like it's been "covered up".

You know what should be there, but you just can't see it or remember it.

The Forgotten Land.

The answer came to Ron's mind.

That terrifying area, capable of erasing all traces of existence, once devoured many people.

Now, this violin has become the only evidence.

"I remember her name was... Trish? What was her last name again? Link, Hawke, Connor, Leonard?"

Fragments of memory are being pieced together.

That calm and rational brown-haired girl, the leopard-woman attendant Tanuki, and the violin and music theory tutorial she gave me...

But these memories are like a fog, becoming more and more blurry and unreal the more you think about them.

"Owner?"

Ailan and Dyer exchanged a glance, both seeing the worry in each other's eyes.

"fine."

Ron took a deep breath and carefully placed the violin back into its wooden case.

"I was just thinking about some... things from the past."

He turned to look at his two loyal followers:

"Alright, let's continue packing. We still have a lot to do."

Ailan nodded and continued arranging the books on the bookshelf.

Dale then began to examine the potion ingredients, reclassifying them according to category and expiration date.

With their help, Ron quickly finished taking inventory of the items in the room.

He became extra careful as he took out an old, small box from deep within the storage space.

The box was covered with runes of solidified magic, but after decades of erosion, those runes had become dull and could become completely ineffective at any time.

"Click..."

Gently open the box lid, and inside are several strands of hair neatly arranged.

Gold, brown, gray... each strand was tied with a ribbon, with a small label underneath.

【Father】

[Eldest brother Edmund]

Second brother...

[Andrei]

……

Ron's fingers gently stroked the hair, feeling its fragility.

Even with the protection of solidification magic, the power of time is still slowly eroding these proofs that once lived.

Just like the owner of that hair.

They, too, are growing old, fading away, and approaching the end of their lives. (End of Chapter)