Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

The Wilderness Ranger traveled for a full six hours, enduring a bumpy ride.

When a hazy, grayish-white outline finally appeared on the horizon, old Tom breathed a sigh of relief.

"Have you wizards seen this?"

He pointed ahead:
"That's Gear City, the most prosperous place on this continent. Once I get here, my guide mission is complete."

"If you wish to travel to Twilight City, taking the steam train from here is the fastest and safest mode of transportation."

Ron looked out the car window.

In the distance, a vast city was emerging from the mist of eternal twilight.

The first thing that catches the eye is the towering chimney.

Countless chimneys stood densely packed like a steel forest, each spewing thick, grayish-white smoke into the sky.

The smoke mixed with the blood-red mist in the air, forming an eerie pinkish-gray hue that shrouded the entire city like a morbid veil.

As the distance closes, the city's outline becomes increasingly clear.

This is an extremely contradictory city.

Ancient spires stand side by side with modern industrial buildings;

Beside the stone castle covered in vines stands a steel factory emitting steam.
Beneath the church spire adorned with gargoyles is a mechanical tower equipped with gears...

Steam and blood, runes and gears, coexist here in a twisted yet harmonious way.

The texture of the air is also changing.

As the vehicle drove into the outskirts of the city, Ron could clearly sense that the pure stench of blood was being diluted by other scents:
The acrid, bitter taste of industrial coal smoke;

The pungent smell of lubricating oil;

The smell of sulfur emitted during metal smelting;
There's also a unique "ionization" sensation characteristic of certain magical fluctuations, as if the air itself is being continuously heated, cooled, and reshaped by countless runes...

"You can cover your nose first."

Old Tom reminded him, having already pulled a cloth soaked in peppermint oil from under his seat and expertly covered his mouth and nose:

"People who come to Gear City for the first time can't stand the smell."

Some have described the air here as "rusty nails boiled in blood soup."

His metaphors are crude yet precise.

"The environmental pollution here is even more severe than in the industrial areas of the main world."

Silas pushed up his rune glasses, revealing a dense array of data displayed on the lenses:

"The concentration of particulate matter in the air exceeds the standard by at least five times, and the magical pollution from blood residue reaches the 'moderate danger' level."

"Ordinary people who live in this environment for a long time will have their lifespan shortened by more than one-third."

"So they need more 'technology' to prolong their lives."

Miller looked out the window at the factories:

"Steam purifier, rune air filter, blood crystal shield..."

The direction of industrial development in this world has always been to 'combat the environment' rather than 'transform the environment.'

"They are using more pollution to offset the existing pollution."

This observation is very insightful.

Ron nodded, his gaze sweeping over the "citizens" working outside the car window.

Those people were wearing uniform gray overalls and various protective masks on their faces.

Some were simple cloth masks, some were sophisticated rune filters, and some were simply full-body helmet-style airtight devices.

Everyone was walking hurriedly, their shoulders hunched, their steps heavy, as if carrying an invisible burden.

The vehicle drove over an overpass that spanned the road.

The scene along the streets became even more complex and chaotic.

Ron saw a newsboy in a tattered cloak standing on a street corner, holding up a newly printed newspaper and hawking it in a childish but hoarse voice:

"Daily Herald! Breaking news!"

"Another vampire attack has occurred in the Gear City Industrial Zone! Thirty-seven workers have died!"

"The Church has announced a curfew in all dioceses! The archbishop warns citizens to stay away from suspicious vampires!"

"The Industrial Alliance issued a statement condemning the atrocities committed by radical vampires! It called for the establishment of a stricter identity verification system!"

The newspaper in his hand was quickly snapped up by passersby.

Some people paid with copper coins, while others simply snatched them and ran away.

The little boy didn't chase after them; he simply retreated to the street corner, cautiously counting his earnings for the day.

The vehicle continued onward, passing through several narrow streets, before the view suddenly opened up.

An airport came into view beside the road.

Amidst the piercing sound of a whistle, a magnificently designed spaceship is slowly descending.

The spaceship was far larger than the surrounding cargo ships, its hull painted a deep red and inlaid with countless gem-like rune crystals.

The bow is decorated with a coat of arms—a bat with outstretched wings, clutching a broken chain in its claws, symbolizing "freedom from bondage".

“That’s the mark of the ‘reformers’.”

Old Tom lowered his voice:
"As human power gradually increased, the vampire clan split into two factions."

One faction supported maintaining the traditional order and was known as the 'royalists';
Another faction advocated embracing the Industrial Revolution and cooperating with humanity; they were known as the 'Innovators'.

After the spaceship landed, the hatch opened, and several vampires dressed in modern clothing stepped out.

Instead of wearing traditional aristocratic attire, they were dressed in suits and ties, carrying briefcases—looking more like businessmen than vampires.

The vehicle did not stay at the dock for long.

Old Tom drove the Wilderness Ranger deeper into the city along the main road.

The sounds of conversation, hawking, machine roars, and steam billowing along the way blend together to create a unique "urban symphony" in Gear City.

This is a living city, a city that struggles amidst contradictions yet still tenaciously survives.

"arrive."

Old Tom stopped his car on a relatively quiet street:

"The Scarlet Rose Bar is a place where you, sirs, can stay overnight or gather intelligence."

Everyone got out of the car.

The architectural style of this three-story building is quite interesting.

The first floor is a traditional stone structure with iron bars on the windows, giving it the rugged feel of a medieval tavern.
The second floor incorporates Victorian decorative elements, with potted plants on the windowsill and silk curtains.

The third floor is entirely modern in style, with large glass windows that allow you to see the interior lights...

"This is a 'no man's land'."

Old Tom explained:

"When vampires come, nobody cares; when humans come, nobody cares; when wizards come, nobody dares to care."

"John welcomes you as long as you don't cause trouble here and are willing to pay for drinks."

"John?"

"The bar owner is also the most well-informed informant in the area."

Old Tom lowered his voice:
"There's nothing in the entire Gear City that he doesn't know. Of course, that's assuming you can afford the price."

Ron nodded, took a bag of magic stones from his pocket, and handed it to old Tom:
"This is your payment, plus an extra one hundred magic stone fragments as a tip."

"That's generous enough, sir!"

Old Tom took the money bag with a broad smile, weighed it in his hand, and his eyes crinkled into crescent moons with laughter.

"If you need a guide later, you can always come to the dock area to find me."

"Old Tom's shop is still quite well-known in this area!"

After saying that, he jumped into the driver's seat and drove the Wilderness Ranger away at the end of the street.

Ron turned and looked at the entrance of the Scarlet Rose Bar.

The heavy oak door was half-open, and dim light and noisy voices shone through the crack.

The air was filled with the mixed scents of alcohol, tobacco, and perfume, along with a faint, sweet, bloody aroma—traces left by vampires.

"Let's go."

He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The door hinges emitted a low groan, like the complaint of a long-dormant creature being awakened.

Ron's gaze swept quickly across the entire space.

The bar was much larger than it appeared, and all sorts of customers sat at the tables.

Of course, at this point in time, apart from those "reformist" outcasts, there wouldn't be any vampires here. On the contrary, he saw several wizard apprentices.

What caught his eye most were the several yellowed wanted posters hanging on the wall.

Half of the portrait on it had been torn off, leaving only the amount of the bounty clearly visible.

Ron was interested in these wanted posters because he found Euphemia's headshot on them, with an astonishing bounty of "five thousand magic stones, dead or alive."

Behind the bar, a middle-aged man was wiping wine glasses.

He was dressed in a standard bartender uniform: a white shirt, a black vest, and sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing skin covered in scars.

The scars included knife wounds, burns, and even visible teeth marks.

This man's experiences are clearly far richer than they appear on the surface.

The man looked up as Ron approached the bar.

His gaze lingered on Ron for less than two seconds before naturally shifting to the team members following behind.

Miller, Silas, Edwin, and those young students.

The entire "scan" process was silent, but Ron could clearly sense that the man had completed his "assessment" of them.

Assess their strength, the threat, and their purpose, and then conclude that this group is not here to cause trouble.

"welcome."

The man put down his wine glass:

"Is this your first time at Scarlet Rose?"

"Yes."

Ron sat down at the bar, and the others followed suit.

"Let me introduce myself first."

The man extended his right hand, revealing a professional smile:
“John Jefferly, the owner of this shop, and your best friend in Gear City—provided you’re willing to pay.”

"Ron Ralph."

“Ralph…”

John repeated the surname, then nodded:
“You seem to hold a very high position in the wizarding world; even I, a bartender in this remote area, have been hearing about you lately.”

"That's it."

Ron neither denied it nor provided a detailed explanation.

"That'll be easy."

John turned and took a bottle of wine from the shelf:

"Wizards usually come to Gear City for only three purposes: to do research, to do business, or... to find someone."

He poured out several glasses of amber-colored liquid and pushed them in front of everyone:
"This is our signature 'Twilight Whisky,' brewed with barley grown under the blood moon, and with a touch of... a special recipe."

"It's important to maintain a balance between staying alert and relaxing after drinking it—in a city where anything can happen at any time."

Ron picked up his glass and took a small sip.

As the wine glides across the tongue, the first sensation is the richness of oak barrel aging, followed by the coolness of a certain herbal plant, and finally, a burst of warmth erupts deep in the throat.

This wine does indeed contain some kind of "special formula".

After being exposed to alcohol, it felt like my brain was being gently wiped clean, the fatigue was stripped away, and only pure clarity remained.

"Not bad wine." He put down his glass.

"Thanks for the compliment."

John's smile became a little more genuine:

"It is an honor for this bottle of wine to receive the approval of the wizard."

He picked up the rag again and continued wiping the wine glasses, his tone becoming more casual:
"But if I may be so bold, Lord Ralph, you and your team... don't seem like you're here to do business."

"How to say?"

"Business people constantly observe their surroundings and assess every possible 'opportunity' or 'threat'."

John's gaze swept over Miller, Silas, and the others:

“But your eyes… seem to be ‘searching’ for something, and with a very clear target.”

"So I guessed you're here to find someone?"

This observation is very insightful.

Ron didn't answer immediately: "It seems you're quite good at reading people."

"Anyone in this line of work who can't understand people would be dead long ago."

John shrugged:

"In Gear City, intelligence is currency."

Knowing what to say, what not to say, what to listen to, and what to forget... these are all survival skills.

"What if I want to buy some intelligence?"

Ron got to the point.

"That depends on what level of intelligence you want to buy."

John put down the rag:

"Ordinary gossip from the streets, the price of a glass of wine;"

"Power distribution in a certain area, ten gold pounds;"

"For inside information involving vampire nobles or wizarding academies, you'll need magic stones."

"As for those truly 'valuable' secrets..."

He paused:

"That depends on how much you can afford to pay."

Upon hearing this, Ron took a money pouch from his pocket and placed it on the bar.

The purse wasn't large, but when it touched the wooden tabletop, the "thud" it made was unusually heavy.

Name your price.

He said succinctly:
"I want to know the latest situation about Twilight City, especially its leader... a vampire sorceress named Euphemia."

John's eyes lit up, and he cautiously counted out ten magic stones and put them into his pocket:

"That's enough."

Then he continued:

"Twilight City...that's the place that's been in the eye of the storm lately."

"Appreciate further details."

"Please wait."

John turned and walked to the end of the bar, pulled down a wooden sign that read "Temporarily Closed" and hung it on the door.

Then he went back to the bar, took out a thick black velvet cloth from under the counter, and carefully covered the bar with it.

This is a signal to the other customers in the store: the boss is talking about "private matters," and those who know what's good for them should stay out of the way.

Those regular customers clearly knew the rules.

The group of people in the corner finished the last drop of wine in their glasses, got up, paid the bill, and left.

Two apprentices arguing about blood energy circuits continued their discussion, but their voices were kept extremely low, clearly trying to avoid affecting the "business" on this side.

"Alright, now you can speak freely."

John sat back down on the bar stool and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"The story of Twilight City is a long one."

He took a sip of his drink, organizing his thoughts:

"First, you need to understand the unique characteristics of this city."

"Twilight City was originally a traditional vampire settlement, jointly managed by several medium-sized clans."

About thirty years ago, a civil war broke out there—a conflict between the royalists and the reformists.

"That conflict lasted for five years and killed countless people."

A look of pain crossed John's eyes; the memory was clearly unpleasant.
"I once passed through Twilight City on my business trip and witnessed the cruelty of that war firsthand."

The streets were littered with corpses, and the air was always thick with the stench of blood…

In the end, the "reformers" won.

"But the victory was hard-won, with several major clans suffering heavy losses."

Just then, a foreign vampire sorceress named Euphemia appeared.

"No one knows where she came from, nor does anyone know her real age or lineage."

She seemed to have suddenly sprung from a crack in the rock, bringing with her a group of loyal followers, as well as abundant resources and technology.

John's tone became respectful:
"She integrated all the remaining forces in Twilight City in less than three years."

"The method is simple—provide 'treatment' to those who are willing to follow her."

"treat?"

Silas interrupted and asked.

"Yes, treatment for frenzy."

John nodded:

"As you know, the greatest curse of the vampires in this world is 'madness'."

As that 'King' grew increasingly mad, all vampires were affected.

"At best, they lose their minds; at worst, they turn into beasts."

"But Ms. Euphemia has developed a certain... method."

He lowered his voice:
"She was able to slow down, and even to some extent 'reverse' the process of mania."

"For vampires, this is nothing short of a savior."

"So in just a few years, she became the de facto ruler of Twilight City."

Now there are a dozen small clans loyal to her, along with thousands of blood slaves and tens of thousands of humans.

"The city's underground network is said to have penetrated into three surrounding areas, and its influence is growing."

John finished his drink:
"pity……"

"What's a pity?"

Ron astutely caught the turning point.

"Unfortunately, there are problems within Twilight City."

John's expression turned serious:
"Ms. Euphemia's 'treatment' seems to have some side effects."

"Although vampires who have received treatment will not go berserk, their power will be weakened."

"From viscount to baron, from baron to ordinary vampire."

This loss of power has caused panic among many vampire nobles.

"Some vampires believe that living is more important than anything else, and they would rather lose their power than lose their sanity;
Others believe that vampires without power are unworthy of being called nobles, and would rather risk madness to maintain their strength.

"The conflict there is very deep right now, and it is said that a civil war could break out at any time."

John paused:
"And Ms. Euphemia herself... has become very mysterious during this period."

"She has locked herself in an underground laboratory and hasn't shown her face for several years."

"Rumors suggest that she is conducting further in-depth experiments in an attempt to completely resolve the problem of berserk behavior."

"But some people say that she has actually lost control and is turning into the next madwoman..."

This intelligence report contains a great deal of information.

Ron remained silent for a moment, processing what he had to say.

Euphemia's "treatment method" is clearly the result of her thirty years of research—intervening in the bloodstream with chemical pollutants and the power of chaos.

That "side effect" was a problem they had anticipated:

The high concentration of pollutants, while capable of isolating Aiden's mad signals, would also impair the vampires' extraordinary characteristics.

As for the so-called "deep experiment," that's actually why Euphemia asked him for help.

However, Ron frowned slightly.

He already knows all this information.
Through his contact with Euphemia, this "public" intelligence was of no value to him.

Ten magic stones are nothing to me right now, but I'm not going to use them to buy this kind of common information.

He didn't speak, but simply tapped his fingers lightly on the bar.

But this simple action made John immediately realize something.

"Cough cough..."

Fine beads of sweat appeared on the bartender's forehead, and he subconsciously glanced at Edwin sitting in the corner.

The burly man with bronze skin was looking at him with a terrifying gaze.

John could clearly feel the surrounding temperature slowly rising.

It was a feeling of oppression, like being slowly roasted over a fire.

It's like standing on the edge of a volcano, feeling the turbulence of the magma beneath the earth, but unable to see any trace of the flames.

"Etc., etc!"

John quickly raised his hands, forcing a fawning smile:

"Respected wizards, please be patient, I haven't finished speaking yet!"

"What we just heard was... well, an 'appetizer'! The real valuable information is yet to come!"

He quickly pulled a cold, damp towel from under the bar and roughly wiped his face with it.

"I have an informant among the vampires, a very high-ranking one, whose information is absolutely reliable!"

"According to his intelligence, the oldest and most powerful of the thirteen vampire clans, the 'Heart' clan, has long coveted the technology in Ms. Euphemia's possession!"

John spoke faster and faster, as if afraid the other person would lose patience:

"They have already been secretly plotting and have launched a series of schemes against Twilight City."

My informant says that the 'Heart' clan has infiltrated the core of Twilight City and is attempting to undermine Lady Euphemia's power.

This information softened Ron's expression slightly.

In his secret communications with Euphemia, she did mention that there were internal problems and that someone was secretly plotting against him.

It now appears that the mastermind behind this is the "Heart" clan.

This also explains why Euphemia didn't send someone directly to the teleportation point at the border fortress to pick him up.

The vampire witch needs to slow down the rate at which the information leaks, making the arrival of this powerful ally an opportunity to purge the traitors from within.

"continue."

Ron said calmly.

"besides!"

John breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the other person had calmed down.
"The most important intelligence is that the 'Heart' clan has dispatched an extremely terrifying being to ensure the success of this operation!"

He lowered his voice even further, almost speaking close to the bar:

"That was an extremely powerful vampire even among marquises, whose combat strength was almost second only to those grand dukes!"

"This intelligence..."

John looked at Ron cautiously:

“Even Ms. Euphemia probably doesn’t know yet.” Ron nodded in satisfaction.

This intelligence is indeed valuable; knowing the enemy's specific combat strength configuration allows us to prepare in advance.

"very good."

He pushed the money bag:

"This intelligence is indeed worthy of these ten magic stones."

"Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!"

John breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him repeatedly.

The surrounding temperature returned to normal, and Edwin picked up his glass again, as if the oppressive feeling from before had never existed.

John skillfully stored the magic stone in a hidden compartment beneath the counter:
"If you need any further assistance, feel free to contact me anytime."

“In Gear City, there’s nothing John can’t do—as long as the price is right.”

Just then, the bar door was suddenly pushed open roughly.

The heavy oak door slammed against the wall with a loud bang, shaking the "souvenirs" hanging on the wall.

A gust of cold wind swept in, bringing with it the hustle and bustle of the outside streets and... the smell of blood.

Ron turned his head.

A tall, burly man wearing black leather armor stood at the entrance, with a blood-stained cloak draped over his shoulders.

He had various weapons hanging at his waist—a silver dagger, a holy water bottle, a crossbow, and a necklace that looked like it was made of the teeth of some kind of creature.

He wore a silver badge on his chest, engraved with a burning cross and a sword.

That was the symbol of the church's "hunters".

The man's face was covered in scars, with a horrible wound extending from his forehead to his chin near his right eye.

That eye was already blind; all that remained in the eye socket was a grayish-white murky mass.

But his left eye was unusually bright, and he was staring intently in a certain direction inside the bar—the stairwell.

A vampire was slowly walking down from the second floor.

The atmosphere solidified instantly.

John's face changed, and he immediately shouted:
"Hey! Hunter! This is the neutral zone! You know the rules!"

But the hunter completely ignored his warning.

He walked step by step toward the stairs, his right hand already gripping the hilt of the silver sword at his waist.

With his left hand, he took out a glass bottle containing a transparent liquid that shimmered with a holy glow under the candlelight.

"Kaleb Dela".

The hunter's voice was deep and resonant, like the roar of a wild beast:

"The vampire baron, a member of the 'Midnight Clan,' massacred thirty-seven innocent workers in the Gear City industrial zone three days ago."

"The church has issued an arrest warrant for you—dead or alive, with a bounty of one hundred magic stones."

The vampire on the stairs stopped in his tracks.

He slowly turned around, a polite smile still gracing his pale face.
"Mr. Hunter, I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

“My name is Kellerb, that’s true, but I’ve never been to the industrial zone, much less slaughtered innocent people.”

“I have a valid hunting license and a ‘good citizen certificate’ issued by the Industrial Federation.”

He took out two documents from his pocket and showed them to everyone:
"Look, this is stamped with the official seal of the Gear City Government."

“All my activities here are legal. I only take blood from contracted blood servants and pay them the full amount each time.”

"You have blatantly entered the neutral zone and accused a law-abiding citizen..."

The vampire's tone hardened:

"Is this all the church rules are supposed to be?"

"rule?"

The hunter let out a mocking sneer:

"You blood-sucking monsters, do you even dare to talk about rules?"

"Three days ago, I saw you jump out of the factory window with my own eyes, with workers' blood still on your lips!"

"You think you can fool me by changing your clothes and forging a few documents?"

He drew his silver sword, the blade tracing a sharp arc in the air:

"I've been a hunter for twenty years, and I've killed at least eight hundred, if not a thousand, vampires!"

“You filthy nocturnal creatures, every one of you should be nailed to a cross and burned to ashes with the holy fire!”

"Sooner or later, all of you vampires will disappear from this world!"

The vampire's expression changed.

The smile gradually froze, replaced by a suppressed anger.
"hunter……"

His voice began to tremble, whether from fear or anger, it was hard to tell:
"Are you really going to make a move here?"

"This is a neutral zone! Anyone who violates the rules will be expelled by all factions!"

"Does your church want to be enemies with the Industrial Alliance, the Wizarding Academy, and all the vampire clans?"

"If we're enemies, then we're enemies!"

The hunter strode forward, his silver sword pointed directly at the vampire:
"From the very first day of its founding, the Church has been established to fight against evil beings like you!"

"I'd rather be expelled than not kill you here and avenge the dead workers!"

He rushed towards the stairs with lightning speed, like an arrow released from a bow.

The silver sword flashed through the air, leaving a blinding white trail.

That was the exorcism runes engraved on the sword being activated, releasing holy power against vampires.

The vampires reacted extremely quickly.

He abandoned all pretense, his figure blurred, and he retreated as a blood-red afterimage.

The speed was so fast that it exceeded the visual capture limit of ordinary people, and the whole person seemed to be suddenly "pulled out" of reality and traveled through the folds of space.

"boom!"

The silver sword struck the stair railing, and the sturdy oak railing snapped in two.

The vampire had retreated to the center of the hall, his face now contorted with a ferocious, beast-like expression.

"You forced me!"

He opened his mouth, revealing two sharp fangs.

The fangs were elongated, growing from normal canines to a full five centimeters long, and their surfaces were oozing a dark red liquid.

Ten fingernails grew, twisted, and hardened simultaneously, eventually turning into ten sharp black blades.

"A Baron-level vampire transformation!"

Seeing this, the hunter dared not be careless.

He took the bottle of holy water from his waist, bit off the stopper with his teeth, and then poured the entire liquid onto the silver sword.

When the holy water came into contact with the sword, the runes on the sword immediately lit up.

The light was as dazzling as the sun, and even Ron, who was far away, could feel a scorching "repulsive force" rushing towards him.

"Die, monster!"

The hunters charged again.

This time his movements were even more ferocious, each sword strike aimed directly at vital points, with clear objectives: severing arms, decapitating, or piercing the heart.

The vampires dared not confront them directly.

His attacks could withstand several hits from his opponent's exorcism armor, and might even burn his minions.

However, if he were stabbed even once by that blessed silver sword, it would be a serious injury that would be difficult to heal.

The speed advantage couldn't be utilized in the cramped bar, and the bat wings couldn't be fully extended, so they could only rely on low-altitude gliding to constantly dodge.

The two fought like a storm, exchanging more than a dozen blows in the blink of an eye.

The tables and chairs in the bar were knocked over by their shockwave, "souvenirs" on the walls fell down, and glass bottles shattered all over the floor.

"enough!"

A loud shout suddenly sounded.

John's face turned ashen as he pressed a hidden button.

"Boom..."

The floor cracked open, and a three-meter-tall humanoid golem rose from the ground.

The golem was cast from some kind of black metal, its surface was engraved with defensive runes, and a fist-sized magic crystal was embedded in its chest, emanating magic fluctuations of the Morning Star level.

However, the golem needs time to activate—the crystal needs to be charged.

John's face turned ashen:
"This is the neutral zone! To make a move here is to provoke all the rules!"

The hunters and vampires completely ignored this threat.

Their fight grew increasingly intense, moving from the lobby to the bar, and then from the bar to the stairwell.

Holy light and blood mist intertwined, and silver swords clashed with sharp claws, producing a piercing metallic scraping sound.

"Damn it!"

John was going crazy as he watched his bar being destroyed.

"You two bastards! If you keep fighting, my shop will collapse!"

But nobody paid him any attention.

At this moment, a voice sounded:
“Silas”.

"clear."

The enchanter, sitting in the corner, pushed up his glasses and lightly tapped with his right index finger.

An invisible wave of magical energy spread out.

Both the hunter and the vampire discovered that their bodies had suddenly lost control!

They maintained their attack stance, yet could not advance an inch further, like two puppets whose pause button had been pressed, frozen in mid-air.

"This level of object manipulation is at least at the peak of the Morning Star level!"

John gasped.

Silas stood up and flicked his finger lightly.

The hunter and the vampire were thrown uncontrollably through the air, like two rag dolls being tossed out of the bar.

"Bang! Bang!"

The two fell heavily onto the street outside the door, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The bar returned to silence.

Those guests who had been huddled in the corners trembling with fear now looked at Ron and his group with awe, or even fear.

The hunter outside the door was panting heavily, the veins on his hand gripping his sword bulging.

He stared intently at the vampire, his eyes burning with a tangible hatred.

But in the end, he slowly put down the silver sword.

“I’ll remember you, Caleb Dela.”

He spoke word by word:
"One day, I will find you outside the neutral zone, and then..."

"we'll talk about it then."

The vampire also sheathed its fangs and claws, reverting to its usual gentle and refined appearance.

But the coldness in his eyes did not diminish in the slightest:

“Mr. Hunter, I’ll remember you too. If there’s a chance…”

"enough."

John interrupted their standoff:

"Hunter, it's time for you to leave."

The vampire guest's room fee has been paid until noon tomorrow; until then, he has the right to stay here.

"And you, Mr. Kellerb."

He turned to the vampires:
"I suggest you leave Gear City first thing tomorrow morning."

The fact that this hunter has his eye on you means the church already has enough evidence.

"Your 'good citizen certificate' might fool the city hall bureaucrats, but it won't fool the hunters who are actually working on the front lines."

The vampire's expression changed slightly, but he still nodded:
"Thank you for your advice, Mr. John."

He turned and went upstairs, his back view still looking composed.

Ron noticed that the knuckles of the hand gripping the stair railing had turned white from the force.

The hunter spat fiercely, turned around, and disappeared into the night.

"Thank you... thank you for your help, sir!"

John walked over and bowed to Ron and his group:
"If it weren't for you, even if I could make those two guys pay the price, my shop would still be ruined today."

Silas waved his hand dismissively:

"Easy to do."

"No, no, no, this is not a simple matter!"

John wiped the cold sweat from his forehead:

"As a token of my gratitude... I would like to give you all some information as a thank you gift."

He turned to Ron:
"Information about that 'Blood King'."

While not entirely confidential, it should give you a deeper understanding of the global situation.

Ron nodded:

"Appreciate further details."

John turned and took a wooden box from under the bar.

The wooden box is very old-fashioned, with protective runes engraved all over its surface, and looks to be at least a hundred years old.

He carefully opened the box and took out a roll of yellowed parchment:
"This is a memento left to me by an old friend."

He was once a history lecturer at Grey Tower College, and spent his life studying the world's past.

John slowly unfolded the parchment:
"Before he died, he told me one thing—'The history of this world is a huge lie.'"

The parchment was covered with writing, some in common languages, and some in ancient scripts that even Ron couldn't recognize.

There may be a picture at the very top of the paper.

That was a throne.

A throne built from countless bones.

A blurry figure sat on the throne, his features indistinct, only a pair of...blood-red eyes visible.

Even though those eyes were just drawn on paper, they still exuded a suffocating madness.

"'The Blood King' Aiden".

John's voice lowered:
"The creator of the vampires, and also... the destroyer."

"According to this document, Aiden is not a native life form of this world."

"He comes from... the main world of your wizarding civilization."

No one knows why He came, nor does anyone know His true purpose.

"He conquered all the races in the world in just one hundred years."

"Then, the original 'vampires' were modified."

John's fingers slid lightly across the parchment:

"Initially, this transformation was seen as a 'blessing'."

"The vampires who were transformed by Him seem to be even stronger."

"But the price... is that I will be forever bound by my 'bloodline'."

"No vampire, no matter how powerful, can defy Aiden's will."

"He is like a 'root server' that governs all vampires."

"As long as He lives, all vampires are His puppets."

John paused:
"But the problem is... Aiden has gone mad."

“About a thousand years ago, He began to become increasingly abnormal.”

“Sometimes He will fall into a deep sleep that lasts for decades, and sometimes He will suddenly go berserk and slaughter the people He created.”

"His consciousness began to split and distort, turning into countless 'selves' vying for dominance."

"And this madness was passed down to all vampires through their bloodline."

"And so, 'berst' occurred."

John lowered his voice even further:
"Initially, only a few low-ranking vampires would occasionally lose control, but as time went on, the symptoms became more and more severe."

"Now, even barons and viscounts among the vampires are not immune."

"It is said that... even those marquises and dukes are desperately suppressing their inner madness."

"The entire vampire civilization is heading towards collapse."

"And humanity... saw an opportunity."

He pointed to another part of the parchment:

"The Industrial Revolution began about three hundred years ago."

"Humans have discovered that through the power of technology, they can resist the rule of the vampires."

"Steam engines, rune weapons, blood crystal engines... the emergence of these technologies gave humanity the means to contend with vampires for the first time."

"And so, war broke out."

"The 'war of liberation' that lasted for a full fifty years."

"Countless cities were destroyed, countless lives were lost..."

"In the end, both sides were exhausted and had no choice but to sit down and negotiate."

"That's how we came to have the current 'coexistence system'."

John closed the parchment:
"The vampires retain some territory and privileges, while humans gain most of the industrial zones and autonomy."

"The Church is responsible for overseeing the vampires to ensure they don't get out of control; the Industrial Alliance provides technology and weapons to maintain humanity's defenses."

"On the surface... it seems peaceful, right?"

He gave a sarcastic smile:

"But in reality, this is just the calm before the storm."

"Everyone knows that as Aiden goes mad, more and more vampires will go berserk."

"One day, the entire vampire clan will completely lose control and become a pack of beasts that only know how to kill."

"Until then……"

"Either humanity will completely exterminate the vampires, or the vampires will destroy all other life on the world."

There is no third possibility.

Silence fell over the bar.

Silas adjusted his glasses:

"So, this world is like a giant...time bomb?"

"To be precise, he is a patient who is slowly dying."

Ron corrected:
"Aiden is the 'focal point,' the vampires are the 'infected tissue,' and the whole world... is being dragged into the abyss by this focal point."

He looked at John:
"So, has anyone tried... treatment?"

"Of course."

John nodded:

“Countless wizards, scholars, and even vampire nobles themselves are searching for a solution.”

"Someone tried to 'awaken' Aiden and restore his sanity;

Some tried to 'seal' Aiden, severing his connection with the vampires; others... tried to 'kill' Aiden.

"But what's the result?"

He spread his hands:

"Failure, complete failure."

“Aiden’s power is so great that even your great wizard would be automatically expelled by Him as soon as he arrives.”

“What’s even more terrifying is that… He seems to have become one with this world.”

"Killing Him might be tantamount to destroying the world."

John picked up the bottle again and poured himself a third glass:
"So now, everyone is waiting."

"We'll see if Aiden goes completely insane first, or if someone can find a way to save the world."

"And that lady from Twilight City... Euphemia."

He looked at Ron:
"She is one of the few people who are 'still trying'."

"It is said that she is researching a technology that can 'sever blood ties'."

"If successful, the vampires will be able to break free from Aiden's control and no longer be affected by the berserk state."

"But the problem is..."

John's expression became complicated:
"This also means that vampires will lose most of their supernatural abilities."

"They will become... a 'new species' somewhere between humans and vampires."

"For those proud vampire nobles, this is worse than death."

He finished the drink in his glass:
"And you... Lord Ralph, are now heading to the heart of this conflict."

Ron remained silent for a long time.

His fingers unconsciously caressed the ring as he quickly processed all the information he had just received.

Aiden, vampires, berserk states, Euphemia's research...

"Thank you for your information, John."

He stood up:

"This information is very valuable."

"I'm glad I could help you."

John also stood up:
"However, Lord Ralph, here is one last piece of advice."

"Please say."

"If you really intend to go to Twilight City, be very careful."

John's expression was unusually serious:
"Don't forget, Euphemia is also a vampire."

"And all vampires may one day... suddenly go mad."

"By then, no matter how rational she is now, she will become the most terrifying monster."

"I will remember."

Ron nodded, then turned to the team:

"Rest now. Tomorrow morning, we'll take the train to Twilight City."

Everyone got up and followed John upstairs to the prepared guest rooms.

Only Ron remained standing by the window, gazing at the city under the night sky.

On the streets, blood energy lights began to light up one by one.

The dim, yellowish light appeared particularly hazy in the fog, enveloping the entire city in an apocalyptic atmosphere.

A train whistle sounded in the distance; it was the sound of a night train starting up. (End of Chapter)