Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

"Master...I..."

Euphemia's voice trembled as she tried to find the words to defend herself.

But before she could finish speaking, a sharp pain from the depths of her soul suddenly struck her.

That was a puncture at the level of consciousness.

It's as if countless fine needles are simultaneously piercing every node of the spiritual body, precise, continuous, and inescapable.

"what……"

Euphemia bit her lower lip, forcing herself not to make a sound.

However, the body's instinctive reactions cannot be suppressed.

My muscles began to spasm uncontrollably, and cold sweat seeped from my forehead and slid down my cheeks.

"Kekeke~~~"

Nari's joyful laughter echoed deep within her consciousness:
"Little mare, you're trying to act tough, aren't you? Too bad, Mom knows all your weaknesses perfectly well!"

The tentacles of the Chaos Apostle wandered through the conceptual layer, gently caressing the sensitive areas of Euphemia's spiritual body.

The feeling was extremely bizarre, both torturous and carrying a kind of twisted "care".

It's like saying: I'm punishing you, but this is also helping you grow.

"I'm spoiling you too much, baby~"

Nari's voice became stern:
Thirty years! A full thirty years!
Your mother gave you such great strength, yet you can't even protect your own territory!

"Those little bugs burrowed into your nest, and you didn't even notice a single one!"

"What is this if not incompetence?"

Every word was accompanied by an intensifying mental piercing.

Euphemia's body trembled violently, and she braced herself on the ground with her hands.

Her long hair fell in disarray, obscuring her face, which was contorted with pain.

"I...I was wrong..."

She managed to squeeze out those words.

"Wrong?"

Nari's tone was full of sarcasm:
Simply saying 'you were wrong' isn't enough!

"You need to show your baby your sincerity~"

"Read those three files aloud, word by word."

"Tell your master just how big a mistake you've made!"

The tentacles tightened suddenly, and Euphemia felt her consciousness being forcibly pulled, torn apart, and then reassembled in a twisted manner.

That feeling... was like having your soul placed on a chopping board, being cut inch by inch.

"explain!"

"I...I said..."

Euphemia picked up the first file with trembling hands.

The paper trembled in her hand, the words on it distorted and deformed through her tear-blurred vision.

“Ivan…”

Her voice was intermittent:
"Thirteen years ago, he appeared as a 'semi-mad patient'..."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a new round of piercings began.

This time it was deeper, more painful, and struck the most vulnerable core area of ​​her mind with precision.

“Aaaaaa——!”

Euphemia arched her body, pressing her hands tightly against her chest, as if trying to stop the pain that was erupting from within.

But that is torment on a spiritual level; physical actions are meaningless.

A strong feeling of pressure came from my abdomen.

The muscles spasm, relax, and spasm uncontrollably.

She tried desperately to maintain her last bit of control, but the force was too strong, and her body's reaction was so instinctive.
What I learned to control in infancy is now completely collapsing.

On the other side of the screen, Ron remained expressionless.

He neither spoke up to stop it nor showed any pity.

This is a necessary process.

Euphemia needs to be utterly destroyed before it can be rebuilt.

Pride, arrogance, and overconfidence in one's own abilities—these must be eradicated completely.

"continue."

His voice came through the connection, as if he were evaluating an experimental subject:
"Read those three files."

Not a single word is allowed to be omitted.

Euphemia trembled all over, but she dared not disobey.

She struggled to pick up the first file again, even though the paper was soaked with sweat and tears and the handwriting was blurred.

“Ivan…his symptoms…are extremely realistic…”

With each word spoken, the spiritual piercing deepens.

This time, however, Nari changed her strategy. Instead of offering pain, she began to provide a subtle form of "comfort."

It's like training an animal: you crack the whip, then you give it a treat.

Pain and pleasure intertwined, torment and reward mingled, utterly destroying Euphemia's self-perception.

She couldn't distinguish which feelings were real and which were imposed upon her.

"Intermittent berserk episodes... memory confusion... a morbid craving for blood..."

Euphemia's voice grew softer and softer, but she dared not stop.

Because with each pause, she faced even more severe punishment.

“I poured so much effort into him…”

"They even used precious chaotic energy... to 'heal'..."

Her fingernails dug deep into her palms, and blood dripped from between her fingers, spreading out in dark red patterns on the ground.

"After the treatment was 'successful'... he showed extreme gratitude and loyalty..."

"Actively request management of intelligence networks..."

"The reason is... 'I want to share the burden of my benefactor'..."

At this point, Euphemia's voice choked with emotion.

It wasn't just because of the loss of physical control, but also because she finally realized just how foolish she had been.

ten years.

For a full ten years, she handed over the core intelligence system of Twilight City to an enemy spy.

Those meticulously planned covert operations, those painstakingly cultivated informants, those supposedly secretive communication channels...

Everything is under the enemy's control.

She thought she was playing chess, but in reality, she had long since become a pawn on someone else's chessboard.

"In ten years... he established an intelligence system covering three regions..."

"But now that I think about it..."

Tears blurred my vision:
"The key elements of that system... are all in his hands..."

The first file has finally been read.

Euphemia collapsed to the ground, her chest heaving violently, like a drowning person finally surfacing.

"There are two more left~"

Nari urged cheerfully:
"Hurry up, little mare! Mommy's patience is running out!"

"Lord Nari, please spare me..."

Euphemia pleaded, her voice hoarse and almost inaudible:
"Let me rest for a bit... just for a moment..."

Her response was an even more ferocious mental assault.

This time, Nari didn't just pierce her; she began to distort her sensory system.

The pain was amplified tenfold.

Every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass.

Each heartbeat felt like being hit in the chest with a heavy hammer.

Even skin contact with air can cause a burning pain, like being on fire.

"Aaaaaaahh ...

Euphemia curled up on the ground, trying to escape the pain.

But she couldn't escape it, because the source of her suffering lay deep within her soul.

What's even more terrifying is that, under such extreme torture, the loss of control over the body reaches its peak.

A wave of shame overwhelmed Euphemia's consciousness.

She was once a proud vampire princess, a fearsome Moon-level wizard, and the ruler of Twilight City…

But now, she's just a useless piece of trash who can't even control her own body.

"Say~"

Nari's voice was like a nightmare:
"Just say it, and Mom will pause for a moment."

"I say! I say!"

Euphemia completely broke down.

She didn't care about dignity or image; she just wanted this torment to end as soon as possible.

"Serafina! Joined eleven years ago!"

"Her identity is that of a 'fleeing noble lady'!"

She claimed that her clan was wiped out in the civil war and that she was the only one who escaped!

The words poured out like a machine gun, each one filled with despair and humiliation:
"Proficient in internal affairs management and interpersonal coordination! You'll quickly become my 'housekeeper'!"

"She was in charge of resource allocation, personnel transfers, and even background checks on core members in Twilight City!"

"She wields too much power! So much power that she can easily place her own people in key positions!"

Nari then slightly reduced his strength.

The moment the pain subsided, Euphemia felt as if she had returned from hell to earth, collapsing to the ground and gasping for breath.

"Last one!"

The Chaos Apostle urged:
"Hurry up~ Your master is waiting~"

Euphemia picked up the last file with trembling hands.

This time she was smarter; rather than procrastinating and being tormented, she decided to finish reading quickly.

"Alyosha! Appeared nine years ago! His identity is 'reformist idealist'!"

"He always manages to persuade other smaller clans to join my alliance!"

"His speech was full of passion! His promises sounded wonderful!"

"Nine years! He 'persuaded' at least twelve small clans for me!"

"But I only realized it now..."

Euphemia's voice was filled with despair:
"Those clans he 'persuaded' are loyal to him, not me!"

"They are loyal to... the Heart Clan, the much more powerful backer behind Alyosha!"

The file has been read.

But Euphemia had completely lost the strength to stand up.

She lay there on the ground, with a puddle of water beneath her.

Her long hair was disheveled and stuck to her face, her eyes were unfocused, and drool was dripping from the corner of her mouth...

Embarrassed, humiliated, and desperate.

All the negative emotions combined completely crushed this once proud vampire witch.

Euphemia made a serious mistake—not just a lack of ability, but also an arrogant attitude.

She thought she could stand on her own and that she could build power by virtue of her bloodline and combat strength.

But she forgot that in the world of power struggles, strength is only the most basic form of capital.

What truly determines victory or defeat is the ability to understand people's hearts, assess the situation, and have a clear understanding of one's own position.

After a long silence, Ron finally spoke:
"Euphemisma, lift your head."

The vampire witch trembled as she struggled to raise her head.

That once beautiful face was now covered in tears and sweat, looking utterly disheveled.

"Remember how you felt today."

Ron said, word by word:
"This is the price of 'out of control'."

"You think you're in control, but you've actually been sidelined long ago."

"You think you're saving the vampires, but you're actually just doing the work for someone else."

"You thought you were being cautious, but you actually stepped into a trap from the very beginning."

Every word he said was like a knife, piercing Euphemia's heart with pinpoint accuracy.
"Thirty years, you wasted thirty years."

“It’s not just time, but also the trust I’ve placed in you, the transformation Nari has given you, and…”

Ron's tone grew even colder:
"Your own pride."

Euphemia lowered her head, tears silently streaming down her face.

She couldn't argue.

Because every word is a fact.

"but……"

Ron changed the subject:
"Now that the problem has been exposed, there is still a chance to remedy it."

“Next, I will deal with these traitors myself.”

"And you..."

He looked at the disheveled figure on the screen:
"Watch carefully and learn well."

"Learn what 'cleaning' means, what 'reconstruction' means, what it means..."

A cold glint flashed in Ron's eyes:
“True domination.”

Just as Euphemia was "confessing" to Ron.

Elsewhere in Twilight City, a secret meeting is underway.

Three figures sat around a round stone table. Ivan Valentine, viscount of the Heart Clan, was in charge of the clan's research department.

He looked to be in his early forties, dressed in an elegant suit, and always wore a gentle, scholarly expression.

But those eyes were extremely sharp, like a scalpel that could see through any disguise.

At that moment, he pushed aside a thick report, his tone filled with exhaustion and disappointment:
"Another failure. The eighty-seventh formula test still cannot overcome the side effect of 'power reduction'."

He rubbed his temples:
"It seems Euphemia has really reached a dead end."

She made no substantial progress in the past three years, locking herself in the lab like a desperate madwoman.

"I told you so."

A shrill female voice rang out.

Seraphina Valentine, one of the few countesses in the Heart Clan, is also the most powerful of the trio, known for her radicalism and cruelty.

She wore a dark red, form-fitting dress, her long hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, but her beautiful face was filled with coldness.
"This outsider has absolutely no chance of succeeding!"

"She doesn't understand the essence of bloodline—it's the 'glory' bestowed upon us by the King! How could it possibly be changed by those filthy chemical pollutants?"

"Using mundane means to attempt to interfere with the creation of the gods."

She sneered:
"That's ridiculous!"

"But she did manage to isolate herself partially."

A third voice rang out, deep and rational.

Alyosha Valentine, the military commander of the Heart Clan, was in charge of the clan's armed forces.

He was the oldest of the three, with neat short silver hair and a face full of scars left by time.

"Those lower-ranking vampires who received treatment, although their power decreased, at least retained their sanity."

Alyosha looked at the report:
"This is the closest we've come to a solution in hundreds of years."

"That's why we've waited thirteen years."

Ivan sighed:
“We’re betting—betting that she can develop a more perfect formula, one that can suppress the madness without significantly weakening the power.”

"After all, for us high-ranking vampires, power is everything."

He glanced at the experiment record marked "failure" on the table:
"Is a marquis who has lost his power still a marquis?"

"Can a grand duke who has lost his power still rule the clan?"

The answer is clearly no.

Serafina slammed her hand on the table and stood up abruptly:
"So what are we waiting for? Let's seize the formula and research it ourselves!"

"Or we could ask other wizards for help! There are so many great wizards in the main wizarding world, surely someone will be willing to take on this project!"

"You're too naive, Serafina."

Alyosha shook his head:
"Do you really think the other wizards will genuinely help us?"

“They will only use us as experimental subjects, like studying deep-sea creatures—dissecting, slicing, extracting, and then recording data.”

As for our life or death...

He sneered:
Who cares about the life or death of a bunch of 'wild vampires'?

"What should we do?"

Serafina was getting a little anxious:
"Are we just going to wait like this? Until everyone goes mad, until the clan completely collapses?"

"of course not."

Ivan raised his hand and switched the projection.

A new image emerged in the air—details of Ron Ralph.

"What's even more troublesome is her foreign aid."

He pointed to the photo in the document:
"Ron Ralph, a Dark Sun Wizard, the founder of Narrative Potions, and the King of the Absurd's... well, close junior."

“The ‘test subject’ we sent out was easily defeated by him.”

"Test sample?"

Serafina scoffed:
"What's so special about a mere viscount who's gone mad?"

"The key point isn't what he killed."

Ivan's expression turned serious:
"It's about 'how he was killed'."

He retrieved a blurry video recording.

Those were images captured intermittently by a surveillance camera hidden in the wilderness.

In the scene, a berserk vampire viscount is frantically attacking a "Wilderness Ranger".

The vampire had completely lost its mind, its limbs twisted into an inhuman shape, and it was letting out a beast-like roar.

His attacks were completely haphazard, purely instinctive acts of destruction, each claw strike leaving deep scratches on the metal shell.

Then, the car door opened.

A young man walked out calmly.

He just stood there, doing nothing.

There was no spellcasting, no defensive stance, and not even a fluctuation of magic power was released.

He was just standing there.

But the berserker viscount, when he was three meters away from him—

"boom!"

The entire vampire clan suddenly exploded from the inside!
Flesh and blood were torn apart by an invisible force, bones shattered into countless fragments, and even the soul was annihilated on the spot by some terrifying being.

The whole process took less than a second.

There was no roar, no light effects, only the young man standing calmly in the same spot, not a single drop of blood splattered on his clothes.

The secret room fell into a deathly silence.

The three traitors' faces turned extremely ugly.

"What kind of tactic is this?"

Serafina's voice was trembling:
"Domain suppression? Soul attack? Or some kind of forbidden spell?"

"neither."

Ivan shook his head, his eyes filled with apprehension:
"I consulted several of the most experienced elders in the clan, and their conclusion was..."

"The Wizard's Undead's 'Conceptual Strike'."

"What's the meaning?"

"Simply put..."

Ivan took a deep breath:
"He imposed a kind of 'inevitability' on that berserk vampire."

"Concepts such as 'you will inevitably self-destruct' or 'your existence is a mistake'."

"Then, reality was modified according to this 'concept'."

"then."

He looked at the cloud of blood mist on the screen:
"That vampire 'exploded' by himself."

"How can this be!"

Seraphina screams:
"This level of ability requires at least our Grand Duke."

"But he did it."

Alyosha interrupted in a deep voice:
"No matter what means he used, the fact is that he easily killed a deranged viscount, and in such an extremely bizarre way."

"so."

Ivan closed the document:
"That's why the Grand Duke is so cautious and specifically contacted Lord Gaetano to confirm the information."

"Because this person is far more dangerous than we imagined."

Just as the three were deep in thought, the communication crystal in the center of the secret room suddenly lit up.

A dark red light condensed in the air, eventually forming a majestic phantom.

"Grand Duke!"

The three traitors immediately knelt on one knee and lowered their heads.

"Get up."

The Grand Duke's voice was deep and powerful:
"I received some unsettling news from His Excellency Gaetano."

"Ron Ralph's background is much more complicated than we thought."

Ivan asked cautiously:
"Your Excellency, what do you mean?"

"He had connections with all three witch kings."

These words struck like a thunderclap in the sealed room.

Seraphim's face turned deathly pale instantly.
"The Witch King."

She knew, of course, what that meant.

That is a terrifying existence that can treat galaxies like a sandbox and easily annihilate marquises or even grand dukes as easily as crushing ants.

Before the Witch King, everything the vampires were proud of—power, bloodline, immortality—was nothing but a joke.

"So, my order is..."

Grand Duke, uttering each word with deliberation:
"We can take the formula, we can defeat him, but we absolutely cannot kill him!"

"Keep the conflict within the scope of 'struggle for interests,' and never let it escalate to 'life-or-death feuds'!"

"Do you understand?"

"clear!"

The three of them responded in unison.

"remember."

The Grand Duke's tone became more serious:
"His potential is astonishing, and he could very well become the next great wizard."

Making an enemy of him now would do no good for the Heart Clan.

"All we want is the recipe, not his life."

"Don't lose sight of the bigger picture for the sake of small gains."

The communication ended, and the crystal's brilliance dimmed.

But just as they were about to get up...

“I have heard the Grand Duke’s order.”

A deep, cold voice suddenly came from the shadows of the secret room.

The three of them suddenly turned their heads!
In the corner of the secret room, a figure shrouded in darkness slowly emerged.

He was draped in a black cloak, the hood obscuring his face, with only a pair of scarlet eyes gleaming in the darkness.

But those very eyes gave everyone present a suffocating sense of oppression.

That's the aura of a marquis!
"Lord Alex!"

Ivan bowed in fear:
When will you arrive?

“I’ve been here since your meeting started.”

Alex Valentine's voice was full of irony:
"You were just too focused on the discussion to notice."

He walked to the round table and sat down casually.

The movement seemed languid, but the aura emanating from him was like that of a beast about to awaken.

"Excuse my bluntness."

Alex looked up, his crimson eyes fixed on the direction where the communication crystal had disappeared:
"The Grand Duke's order is utterly foolish."

"Lord Alex!"

Ivan's expression changed drastically:
"This belongs to the Grand Duke."

"Order?"

Alex sneered:
"Of course I know this is an order."

"But the problem is..."

He suddenly stood up, unleashing his marquis-level aura without reservation!
The entire chamber trembled under this force, the moss on the walls fell off, and fine cracks appeared on the stone table.

"You want me to 'hold back' in matches against opponents of the same level?"

His voice was like the roar of a wild beast:
"Is the Grand Duke truly senile, or does he think I, Alex, am easy to bully?"

"You bunch of useless swindlers, do you even know what a real fight is?"

Alex grabbed the blood glass from the table and crushed it.

Blood trickled down between his fingers, dripping onto the ground with a "drip-drip" sound.

"In a duel between equals, there are only two outcomes—you die, or I die!"

"What do you mean by 'repel but not kill'? Do you think this is child's play?"

He walked up to Ivan, looking down at the viscount who wasn't much younger than himself:
"According to intelligence, Ron Ralph is experienced in combat and his methods are unpredictable. He can kill a berserk viscount in an instant, something even I cannot do."

"In this situation, if I were to 'hold back'..."

Alex showed a hint of madness:
"The one who died was me!"

Ivan's face was deathly pale, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.
"But the Grand Duke..."

"The Grand Duke will not go to the battlefield."

Alex's voice was as cold as ice in the dead of winter:
"He can speak with ease, sitting in the safety of his ancestral land, issuing orders from thousands of miles away."

“‘Repel but do not kill’—what a nice-sounding phrase.”

He turned around, his scarlet eyes fixed on Ivan:
"But tell me, when Ron Ralph went all out, when that bizarre power that could make vampires explode from the inside out enveloped them..."

How should I "hold back"?

"Should we ask him first, 'Could you go a little easier?', or should we suddenly stop while attacking with all our might and say, 'I'm sorry, our clan's Grand Duke said he can't kill you'?"

Alex's sarcasm caused the temperature in the entire secret room to drop several degrees.

Seraphina bit her lip, finally unable to hold back any longer and spoke:
"Lord Alex, what do you mean?"

"What I mean is simple."

Alex turned, his black cloak arcing through the air.
"Go and convey to the Grand Duke that if he is really worried about angering those witch kings, then he should not make me take action."

“Send other people, send diplomats who are good at negotiating, send politicians who are good at talking.”

"But since you've sent me, this 'warrior'..."

His voice grew deeper:
"Be prepared to bear all the consequences."

"include……"

Alex stopped in the shadows:
"The death of Ron Ralph."

As soon as he finished speaking, his figure disappeared completely into the darkness.

Only three traitors remained, staring at each other in bewilderment. (End of Chapter)