Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

At that very moment, an extremely distant echo came from the direction of the main world.

Something has decisively shattered.

It's like standing outside and suddenly hearing something heavy fall inside.

Those beings in the main world whose strength reached the level of a Grand Wizard all seemed to sense something at this moment.

Some were worried, some were indifferent, and some... were overjoyed.

The paradise finally collapsed, with the last pillar of the earth's veins collapsing.

The collapse of the entire sealing structure was different from the noisy and booming form of an avalanche.

It's more like an overstretched net, where, unnoticed at one of its nodes, the last thread quietly snapped.

After it was broken, everything followed in quick succession.

The prison that had existed in the dimensional interlayer for nearly two eras began to vomit its contents outward.

Forgotten taboo knowledge needs no carrier; it is information in itself, overflowing outward in the form of concepts, like a drop of ink in water, spreading to the largest radius in the shortest time.

When certain concepts are unintentionally touched upon by a person's consciousness, they leave a gap in that person's thought framework.

The gap is painless and doesn't bleed, but the boundary begins to quietly collapse inward from there.

In the central land's guard channel, the first batch of warning signals began to flood in in a very chaotic manner before the alarm system even had a chance to be triggered.

"On Floating Island No. 9 in the sea area, the upper-level residents are experiencing a collective memory replacement, with some claiming that their name is that of a certain ancient great wizard who has long since died..."

"Southeast Sea Area No. 14, a partial gravity reversal occurred, lasting for two minutes and forty seconds, currently being verified..."

"The outer communication station has lost contact. The last communication showed that everyone inside the station simultaneously began whispering in an unknown language, the content of which was unreadable..."

These signals piled up, and the first group of official wizards on duty instinctively felt that this was not a situation they could handle.

Strictly speaking, this falls under the category of an erosion effect.

When a place with high magic concentration connects with other areas, the things that leak out naturally become corrosive, just like those places at the boundary of the Great Abyss.

The flames initially reversed direction and burned for less than four seconds before returning to their original position as if nothing had happened.

But in those four seconds, the patrolman standing next to the fire was licked by the downward-burning flames, and the wound was completely different from a normal burn.

That wound was later recorded in the emergency file:

"I was burned by 'reverse heat,' and my whole body felt the pain was reversed. I don't know how to explain it, it's just not right."

The word "no" appeared in countless descriptions in various forms over the next few hours.

On the remote continent, what is perceived is only the edge.

But the edge itself is enough to plunge mortals who have never seen the power of the great, never experienced dimensional rifts, and do not know what "paradise" is into a fear that is completely indigestible.

The waterline of the Endless Sea experienced an abnormal low tide in the middle of the night.

Fishermen from a small coastal town stand in front of a large, dried-up rocky area.

He watched as the strange creatures exposed by the receding tide died in the air, not knowing what this meant.

Looking out into the depths of the sea, he saw the horizon.

The horizon at night has the blue-white light of distant lightning on a cloudy day, flashing irregularly with unpredictable intervals.

He stood there for a long time, then turned back and woke his wife, asking her to light all the candles in the house.

The fisherman couldn't explain why, but he felt more at ease doing that than doing nothing.

Similar scenes unfolded along the coastlines of countless remote continents that night.

Some people said they saw a crack in the sky in the distance, with light leaking out from it. They couldn't find the words to describe it, so they said the light didn't seem alive.

Some people say they heard something crying in the sea, a low and drawn-out sound.

There are also those who are naturally insensitive, who see nothing and hear nothing.

He went into the room and found his child crying.

His child said I dreamt of many faces, but I didn't recognize any of them, yet they all seemed to know me.

These descriptions were later compiled by scholars into a thick archive with a simple title: "Records of Ordinary People on a Remote Continent".

One of the recorders wrote in the preface:
"These people don't know what happened, and they don't have the power to deal with anything."

They lit candles, watched over their child, and gave a name to something they couldn't understand, even if that name wasn't entirely accurate.

"This is perhaps one of the closest things I've seen to 'rationality' during the entire collapse."

Soon, the prisoners who were high-ranking wizards began to escape.

The first recorded location was on an uninhabited island in the eastern waters of the Central Lands.

The island itself is not large and was once an abandoned observation station.

Because of a pollution incident that went out of control at the station, no one has returned since.

The prisoner landed there, and the automatic monitoring device on the watchtower detected it.

In the footage that followed, a blurry human figure was standing on the top floor of the abandoned platform.

He had his back to the camera, facing the distant sea, maintaining an extremely quiet posture.

It was so quiet that one might mistake it for a statue, or the lingering echo of a soul.

Seemingly noticing someone spying on it, the humanoid figure turned its head and shifted its gaze to the surveillance camera.

"Oh!"

In an instant, the head of the monitoring wizard on the other end of the camera exploded into a mangled mess, and blood splattered all over the monitoring room.

The second prisoner's location was confirmed on the bottom support of a floating city.

He hung there, doing nothing.

But all the magical beings began to gather on the roof of the building directly below him at the same time.

They all lay down, remaining in a deathly stillness.

Sober, half-mad, and those driven only by impulse and devoid of reason.

They had no communication or agreement, yet they all made the same choice in a very short time: to head towards a place with higher magic concentration, towards the central land.

Once those escapees at the level of great wizards begin to move, all the emergency network in the main world can do is track and report them.

And by scattering markers along their route, they postponed rather than actually blocked any direct contact as much as possible.

Each direct confrontation could come at the cost of several official wizards being killed or injured.

Morning Star and Moon Star classes can only provide remote support; daring to get close will result in being killed with a single glance.

However, the resources that emergency networks can mobilize are limited.

That night, in a silent and cruel way, everyone involved in the response became aware of this fact.

The arrival of the Star Lord was unexpected by no one, including the great wizards who had already sensed the collapse of Paradise.

When the crack quietly tore open from the interlayer, the first person to notice it was a charterer living in a small port on the outskirts of the Central Land.

He was revising the nautical chart in the early hours of the morning.

An inexplicable, weak magnetic anomaly caused his directional magic tool, passed down from his grandfather, to exhibit an unprecedented reading deviation.

He stared at the discrepancy for a long time, comparing it with his own experience point by point, and finally could only write one sentence on the draft paper:

“From diagonally above, but not diagonally above this world.”

This statement was not given any warning because the surveyor was not a wizard and there was no way to report it.

He tucked the draft paper into the last page of the nautical atlas and continued working.

It wasn't until he heard a strange noise outside the window that he took out the paper again, looked at the sentence on it, and felt that his premonition had been completely fulfilled.

The Star Domain Lord silently began its actions, a fact already proven in its confrontation with Cassandra.

It doesn't announce its existence; it simply begins to work.

The small wizarding town on the outskirts of the Central Lands is called Moonrock.

The town is built on two small, interconnected floating islands, one on the north and one on the south, connected by three suspension bridges.

It is home to about four hundred wizards of different ranks and their families, most of whom are wizards engaged in auxiliary professions or apprentices who come and go from the port.

The Moon Rock Collection was first dealt with late at night.

The first to notice was a Moon-level witch living on the edge of the North Island, who initially thought she was experiencing visual disturbances due to excessive fatigue before bed.

A tree outside the window began to turn transparent.

The tree's own color began to fade, like paint being slowly wiped away by an unseen hand.

First it was green, then the trunk turned brown, and then the outline of the trunk remained. The shape of the tree was still there, but almost gone.

Finally, even the trace of that shape disappeared.

The whole process was very quiet, even strangely orderly.

Ordinary destruction leaves behind debris and traces, but the empty spaces left by the Star Lord are clean, and clues are also scarce.

The four hundred residents of Moon Rock Village were completely dealt with within the next two hours.

The place name Moon Rock Village still exists, and the geographical location information of the two floating islands is archived independently, not stored in any local memory or building.

But anyone who has ever had contact with the residents of Moon Rock Village finds their memories of the place to be very strange.

They knew the place existed, and they knew they had been there, but the faces and voices in their specific memories had become very blurry outlines.

Eve received a full warning an hour after the Moon Rocks incident.

She was in the study at the ancestral home of the Wangguan clan, with several intelligence reports from different sources laid out before her.

The moment the warning signal flooded in from the communication network, the magic lamp in the room suddenly dimmed by one notch without anyone operating it.

Eve ignored the lamp.

She quickly scanned the warning messages, pausing only once, when she saw the one about Moon Rock Collection.

The pause lasted less than three seconds before she resumed reading the rest of the content.

Cassandra is not in the study.

Since she was able to move around outside the crystal coffin, she chose a living room further inside.

She usually goes out during the day and occasionally sits in her study, but this late night, she is in her own room.

After reading the warning, Eve opened the study window.

The night breeze lifted the curtains, carrying a slight dampness.

Looking out the window, the protective barrier surrounding the ancestral land glowed faintly in the night.

She stood by the window for a while before returning to her desk, opening the emergency communication channel, and sending instructions to the academic alliance.

The channel was already quite noisy, with various warnings, requests, inquiries, and disputes piling up.

Some people were reporting on the situation in their areas, some were calling for reinforcements, and some were questioning the reliability of the information sources.

Some are still debating whether this was an organized invasion or a systemic natural collapse.

Eve didn't wait for the sounds to quiet down.

She sent the signal directly, suppressing other messages for a moment.

"The defensive boundary of the Central Land has shrunk to the core area of ​​the floating city."

"Concentrate your efforts on this line, don't scatter them."

"Evacuate those areas that can be evacuated; for those that cannot, use blockade instead of defense to delay rather than stop them."

There was a brief silence on the channel.

Soon, just as she had anticipated, someone raised an objection.

The voice belonged to a high-ranking wizard she didn't know:
"Your Highness, there are still more than a hundred formal wizards and their apprentices in Sea Area Twelve."

They are dealing with a group of escaped prisoners, and if we shrink the borders now, it's equivalent to…

"It's like telling them to either solve it themselves or retreat."

Eve interrupted him:

"Defending a border that you can't hold will only waste your energy in the wrong places."

"What we need now is not heroes, but time."

She did not explain what she intended to do with that time.

The channel was silent for a few seconds.

The first to respond was a witch whose tone always carried a hint of smokiness; she was Cassandra's former subordinate.
"Understood. I'll handle the coordination in the South District, and I'll arrange the evacuation route for Sea District 12."

Other voices followed suit, each brief and focused on action.

Eve turned off most of the side channels on the channel, keeping only a few that she really needed to listen to.

Then she touched her hair tie, where a clown hair accessory on a unicycle was hanging.

The King of Absurdity's response came without any delay.

The sound leaked out from the communication hair accessory, with a cheerful quality completely out of place with the situation.

"My dear little Eve~"

Hector drawled out the signature sound:
“Grandpa knew you were coming to call me tonight, so he left a light on and waited for you.”

“Ancestors,” Eve said without mincing words, “I need something that I can use.”

"Oh, I know, I know."

The bell stopped ringing for a half-beat:
"Considering that the old acquaintances who came this time are really not easy to deal with, your great-grandfather will generously lend you some little trinkets."

"Remember, a tool is only a tool if you know how to use it; otherwise, it's just decoration."

He thought for a moment, then casually mentioned someone:

"Oh, by the way, like I said before, your mother's situation... you'll have to figure it out yourself."

Eve didn't respond to that sentence, waiting for what followed.

Three sealed cards soon appeared on her desk.

It has the kind of shape that you might mistake for an ornament at first glance: it is thick, with smooth edges, and the surface runes are so fine that you almost need a magnifying glass to read them clearly.

Eve picked them up one by one and examined them one by one.

The first rune has an extremely restrained and exquisite feel. The craftsman simplified everything that could be simplified to the extreme, leaving only the essential strokes that were necessary.

Automatic information display – Power Card: “Who is lying?”

Once activated, all ongoing deception activities within a wide area will be temporarily interrupted.

Eve turned it over to look at the back, which had Hector's habit of leaving marks on his items—distorted, random, yet highly recognizable.

The second one has a much higher rune density, the Power Card—"Everything is absurd."

Once activated, any attempt to cast spells in this area will fail.

This one was probably prepared specifically to fight against the Star Domain Lord. Eve lingered on this card longer than she did with the first one.

Judging from the surveyor's description and the results of the Moon Rock Collection, the Star Domain Lord's actions were a "operation" with systematic logic.

It determined that something in those places needed to be cleared, so it did.

If we categorize the underlying mechanism of that kind of "operation" as a type of magic...

So the rule Hector gave to this card was to deprive the Star Lord of its primary means of dealing with things within a localized area.

She didn't think for long, put the two coins aside, and picked up the third one.

Blank.

A clean blank space, without runes or any prior information to be perceived.

It didn't even have that usual stamp; it was just an ordinary card.

The back is also blank.

The only words on the card were in the bottom right corner: "Write it down yourself when you've figured it out."

Eve sighed, put all three cards into her inner pocket, patted them to make sure they were all there.

She got up and went into the hallway; the light was still on in Cassandra's room.

The black-haired princess had just stood at the door when a voice came from inside: "Come in."

Eve pushed open the door and saw her mother sitting in a chair by the window.

"You came to see me so late because of the amusement park, right?"

She didn't say anything and sat down in another chair.

There was a small tea table between the two of them, on which was a cup of tea that had gone cold.

“My ancestors gave me three cards.” Eve showed the three power cards: “The last one is blank.”

Cassandra placed her hand on the armrest of the chair and gently rubbed it:

"He can generally distinguish between what is important and what is urgent."

Giving it a blank space at this point is probably not a joke; it's likely meant to let you fill in the content yourself according to your needs.

Eve didn't speak, waiting for her to continue.

“Perhaps…” Cassandra touched her smooth chin:
"He himself hasn't decided what to write yet, so he's leaving the decision to you."

“Your condition…” Eve looked her mother over, “Is it suitable for the front lines?”

Cassandra picked up the glass of iced tea beside her and gently swirled it.

The tea swirled around at the bottom of the cup before settling back down.

"No problem in the short term."

She put down her teacup, somewhat helplessly.

"But if you expect me to fight for days and nights like I used to, and still get more and more energetic as the fight goes on... that won't work."

"Do you know what we used to rely on for magic replenishment during wars?"

Eve knew, of course.

"Swallow," Cassandra said frankly, without any attempt to hide anything.
"I can use the magic of my opponents, the remnants of the skirmishers, and anything floating on the battlefield."

In that state of ethereal decay, anything could be digested, and he actually grew fatter the more he fought.

She laughed self-deprecatingly: "Things are different now."

"The Void Remains have finally become a little purer, and this progress has taken decades."

"If I swallow anything else now... my old injuries will flare up, and all the good parts will be ruined again."

Eve nodded; she had already considered this point:
"Actually, I never intended for you to go to the front lines."

Cassandra looked up at her.

"Go to the most central location in the Central Lands and take charge. You don't need to do anything; just stand there."

Cassandra understood what she meant: "You want to use me as a deterrent."

"It's not that it was, it was always like that."

Eve placed her hands on her knees.
"After all these years, in the Central Plains, there must be many people who actually witnessed your prime still alive, right?"

Cassandra remembered the old wizard named Wayne; this question didn't need an answer.

"The Witch King doesn't concern himself with worldly affairs. In the past, during the Great Expeditions, you were always the one who fought the battles against foreign enemies."

Those great wizards, the formal wizards, they don't remember which wizard king, they remember you.

"So," Eve concluded.

"Your most powerful alchemical explosive doesn't need to detonate; just hanging there is a deterrent in itself."

Cassandra stared at her for a moment.

The gleam in those eyes was no longer as breathtaking as it had been in its prime, but their habit of scrutinizing people remained unchanged.

"Did he learn that from that kid again?"

“Good things are worth learning.” Eve repeated what she had said before, a smile appearing in her eyes.

Cassandra didn't say anything more: "Okay."

Eve got up and started getting ready, first going to the wardrobe:

"Change your clothes and take out the set you have on hand."

This outfit was recently delivered by Vivian, and it's almost identical to Cassandra's memories of her heyday.

He wore a purple robe with a silver scepter buckle and a band of extremely fine embroidery on his shoulder, using patterns popular among high wizards of that era.

Cassandra took it and glanced down at it.

"That's quite thoughtful."

"Of course, I am your daughter. In the words of my mentor, a daughter is like a warm cotton-padded jacket."

"Little cotton-padded jacket..." she looked at the daughter who was helping her put on her outer robe, her words always revolving around her husband.

This little cotton-padded jacket is a bit drafty.

After helping his mother get dressed, the internal communication channel had been noisy for a long time.

Eve sat back down at her desk and tuned the channel to a relatively wideband level.

Several voices from different directions poured in at the same time, all waiting for someone to make the final decision.

"Our defenses are in dire straits. Will reinforcements even arrive...?"

"Any updates on the situation at Sea Area Nine? I can't get their signal..."

"Your Highness, can you give a clear answer regarding the attitudes of the Crown Clan and the Crystal Spire?"

The middle-aged male voice that spoke last was that of a senior Dark Sun-level member of the School Alliance.

Eve knew him; he was a reliable person.

He wasn't looking for trouble; he genuinely needed instructions to make the next decision.

"The various parties are still making arrangements, but I think everyone knows the current situation better than I do, so I don't need to describe it again."

She said, then paused for a moment:
"However, there are now people more suitable than me to coordinate all parties."

There was a moment of silence in the channel, then a voice appeared without warning.

That voice hadn't been heard on any communication channel for decades.

"Gentlemen, it's been a long time."

The moment that familiar, cold voice entered the channel, everyone else instinctively stopped.

An incredulous voice rang out: "Tower Master?"

These were Cassandra's former subordinates.

“Anvil,” Cassandra replied.

An atmosphere that is hard to describe filled the channel.

There was no commotion or cheers; it was more like everyone had been hit on the head at the same time.

They all froze on the spot, unsure whether they could trust their ears.

A moment later, a slightly dissatisfied voice was the first to emerge.

The speaker was a great wizard with a slightly hoarse voice and a fast speaking pace.

The other party is always straightforward, even when speaking to the Witch King, they don't mince words.

“Your Highness,” Trevel said without beating around the bush, “at this point, let’s not bother with all this stuff.”

"What, this set?"

"That historical projection stuff." Trevely spoke even faster:

"Professor Ralph is not here, everyone knows that."

Now is not the time to use the methods he left behind to create a spectacle through projection. Such tricks won't last long, and if they don't hold up, they'll only look worse.

She thought for a moment, then added:
"I don't mean anything by it, it's just that now is really not the time to play these kinds of tricks."

Upon hearing this, Cassandra spoke up.

"Travel".

"..."

"What kind of magic did your apprentice use to leave that scar during the last battle against Vital?"

After a very brief silence, Travel's voice changed.

"Are you referring to the one on the left, or the one on the right?"

"right."

"That's not a scar, it's..."

Travel stopped.

It was obvious that she herself realized something.

The traces left by her apprentice in the battle in the Vital direction occurred after Cassandra "disappeared".

The information that a historical projection can access is limited to the content contained in the material on which the projection is based.

There's no reason for that trace to appear in any surviving historical materials.

A silence descended on the channel, a silence so profound that even the background noise had vanished.

"I am not a projection."

Cassandra said:
"Otherwise, how would I know where the one on the right of your apprentice came from?"

Travel did not reply immediately, but waited a few seconds before letting out a sound:
"...You bastard, are you really alive?"

Cassandra found it somewhat amusing:

"nonsense."

I don't know who was the first to laugh; it was all mixed up in the subsequent cacophony of noise, and I couldn't tell.

The anvil's voice squeezed out from the chaos, filled with an excitement beyond his years:

"They're alive... Why did it take so long to tell us this..."

"Deployment by all parties."

Cassandra interrupted him before he could finish, her tone turning somber.

The channel automatically went silent, just like before.

"Southern Front, Trevely, you'll take charge."

"……clear."

Travis responded decisively, having completely suppressed his earlier emotions.

"Anvil, hold the East District, the supply line must not be cut off."

"receive."

"We cannot contact Haiqu No. 9. Treat it as out of contact for now. Remember to clean up and resupply."

Several "I understand"s followed one after another, brief, neat, and without any unnecessary words.

Those veteran wizards who were originally acting independently and talking all at once in the channel had their anxieties firmly held in place by one hand.

As it relaxed, it actually returned to the correct position.

During a break from receiving deployment requests, Trevel rested his hand on his communication stone and asked his assistant to leave for a moment.

She leaned back in her chair, listening to the voice on the channel continue issuing the next instruction.

She's still alive? Cassandra is incredibly lucky.

How exactly he survived is not the time to ask.

Whether the sound is complete or just an empty shell is not something we should delve into now.

What's most scarce right now is actually the person who can make the final decision.

Princess Eve is too young; a Dark Sun-class is already quite remarkable under normal circumstances.

But when her husband isn't here, those old bones that have also lived for hundreds or thousands of years may not really take her words seriously.

Cassandra is different.

It's hard to say whether it's fear or respect, probably both. In short, things built up over decades or even centuries don't need to be supported by seniority.

A new instruction came through the channel, concerning the configuration of the southern node under Travel's responsibility.

She put her thoughts aside, focused her attention back on the channel, and began taking notes.

I haven't felt this way in a long time.

You don't need to make all the judgments yourself, stopping at every fork in the road to weigh the pros and cons.

All you need to do is clearly see your part of the road and do things well.

This is definitely much smoother than the feeling of having to hold on before.

Eve fiddled with the three cards in her hand at her desk, feeling rather sentimental.

It's definitely more comfortable to let others do the work while you watch from the sidelines.

The mother's voice continued to unfold on the communication channel, clear and articulate, with not a single word wasted.

The voice that had vanished for decades returned to where it belonged. (End of Chapter)