Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

The Rubik's Cube made a very soft sound as it was turned one last time in Ron's hands.

But after that moment, the air in the room underwent a qualitative change.

The tension that had been building throughout the space finally dissipated at that moment.

Ron placed the Rubik's Cube on the table and watched the geometric shape reset.

This arrangement should be the true "complete state" of the Rubik's Cube.

The biological computer structure left by Alexander also quietly disappeared after the last set of solutions was completed, leaving no trace.

The Rubik's Cube no longer rotates or rearranges itself; it lies there quietly, no different from an ordinary toy.

He stood up and looked at the entrance leading into the depths.

The entrance had been opened silently.

Ron didn't go over immediately.

He stood there for a moment, then reached into his spatial bag and took out a new deck of divination cards.

After Chloe became a high wizard, she gave him all the divination cards she frequently used, saying they would be "better than ordinary cards."

After the two major cleansings, he paused and began to ask himself questions.

The first question – was anything missing on this trip?

Draw one out and turn it over.

The Tower (Reversed)

The image depicts a tower struck by lightning, with bricks and stones flying from its top in all directions.

Reversed, it means that disaster is inevitable.

However, a crucial detail has been reversed: the source is not external, but internal.

Ron stared at the card for a long time.

The Tower card is an old friend of mine; it is a symbol of stability and a concrete representation of power and order.

The reversed Tower, in this place, at this moment...

He kept the card to himself without strategizing, and drew the second card first.

The second question – is the way out of the inner room unobstructed?
Red Moon (Upright)

The Weaver Girl was used reversed in the last divination, but is upright now.

The red moon, illusion and deception, are the forces that flow beneath the surface and are not directly seen.

An upright red moon signifies that this power is in effect.

Something is influencing the situation, but you can't see it; it's somewhere between you and your destination.

Ron's finger paused on the edge of the card.

He spent even longer considering the wording of the third question.

Ultimately, he asked—who is hiding behind the scenes?
When the third card was turned over, the light in the room flickered very slightly, as if a candle had been blown by the wind.

[Judgment - Right Position]

As the horn sounded, the dead rose from their coffins, responding to the light and sound descending from above.

This card represents "summoning" and "response," indicating that a powerful force is actively sending signals and waiting for a system response.

It could also be that a mechanism has been pre-set and is waiting for the triggering conditions to arrive.

Ron placed the three cards side by side in front of him.

The Tower (reversed), The Red Moon (upright), The Judgment (upright).

The omission stems from a kind of inversion, originating from within rather than from the outside;
There will be unseen forces at work along the way;

There are also preset mechanisms that wait for them to be triggered automatically.

These three cards together don't say that someone is going to attack him, but rather that something has been prepared long ago, just waiting for him to take that step.

He put the cards away, but the sense of crisis didn't disappear; instead, it became clearer.

With that in mind, he added a fourth card.

The Hanged Man (Upright)

Although the person in the painting is hanging upside down, their expression is calm, even somewhat leisurely.

The Hanged Man card signifies rebirth after destruction; one will be reborn after a crisis.

A slight throbbing of the spirit is a signal that sensory overload is about to occur.

He put the deck away and looked again at the entrance leading to the depths of the inner room.

There's something behind that door.

The sense of crisis sends a neutral signal in that direction, falling into a gray area between "caution is needed" and "it is permissible to move forward".

The problem lies elsewhere.

Ron stood there for a moment, trying to extend his senses in all directions to investigate every possible source.

Got nothing.

The sense of threat couldn't be found at all.

This is precisely why the delicate string in his heart began to tighten.

Dangers whose source can be identified are dangers that can be dealt with.
The kind of danger whose source cannot be found is the kind that truly needs to be guarded against.

He paused on this judgment for about three deep breaths before taking a step.

We can't just stand here and not move forward. Let's go over and see what it is.

At the edge of the doorway, after he stepped in, a very faint ray of light seeped out from the frame and then disappeared.

Maybe it's just my imagination, or maybe it isn't.

He continued walking inside.

The place where the Creator sleeps is in stark contrast to the rest of the Craftsman's Labyrinth.

The outer corridor showcases quantity, layering, and the terrifying scale accumulated over a long period of time.

But there's nothing here.

The stone chamber was not large, about the size of an ordinary study.

The stone wall has no carvings, and the joints have been polished away, leaving each side as a continuous and uniform dark gray.

The ground was also stone, untouched, but extremely flat, so flat that no tiny particles were present.

There was nothing here except for one thing.

A book was placed on the floor in the very center of the stone chamber.

It was much thinner than he had expected, and looked to be no more than two hundred pages long.

There is no title, no author information, and no decoration whatsoever.

But the moment Ron stepped into the stone chamber, his senses were bombarded with dense waveforms.

It is called a book because it adopts the form of a book and the characteristics of a book that can be carried and read.

However, the information contained within it is on a completely different level from the information density that any book can hold.

The Creator's entire understanding of the act of creation is thus condensed into a volume of less than two hundred pages.

All the detours, and everything discovered along the way;
All the invaluable lessons extracted from failures, all the mystical paths leading to the highest truth... are here.

Waiting for some ancient alchemist to walk in, see it, and then decide for himself how much he can read.

Ron crouched down next to the book and held his palm about three inches above the cover.

Perception begins to be significantly eroded at this distance, and spirituality is continuously depleted.

He made a rough estimate in his mind:

Based on his current level of perception, if he continues reading, he will reach the damage threshold in about three hours, after which it will be a true permanent drain.

Therefore, what is being tested here is not greed, or rather, greed is only on the surface.

The deeper test is self-awareness.

You know what you need, and you know when to stop after you've gotten enough.

He turned to the first page of the book.

The first chapter deals with the essence of the membrane between the spirit world and the material world.

The collection of occupational information was launched simultaneously, silently incorporating every piece of content that could be compressed into an information cell into the archive.

The advancement information for "Spirit Realm Ruler" appeared, like a marble being inserted into a module input port, stuck in, locked, and marked green.

Then there are "Mystic", "Radiant Monarch", "Time Guardian", "History Parasite"...

Information on several four-star or four-and-a-half-star professions was archived one after another.

The whole process went surprisingly smoothly, as if someone had already prepared the index in the book and was waiting for him to match it up.

The spiritual depletion reached a considerable level during this period.

Ron pulled his senses back a bit and quickly flipped to the last few pages.

Those pages have a distinctly different feel from the earlier content.

The preceding text is neat and systematic, carrying a sense of composure that has been refined and revised repeatedly before it was finalized.

The handwriting on these last few pages started to become somewhat messy.

That's the job information for [Creator (Five Stars)].

The path to becoming the pinnacle of the Creation system is listed at the end of this book.

When the data collection module received this information, there was a pause of less than half a second.

Then, the confirmation marker lit up, turning a deeper gold than ever before.

Ron removed his hand from the book and slowly stood up.

He felt slightly dizzy, a warning sign that his spiritual energy was about to reach a critical point, letting him know that he should stop.

"Thank you."

I don't know if it's addressed to the Creator or to the book.

Or perhaps, they are actually the same thing.

The book remained unchanged, completely indifferent to everything.

………………

Salcardo's quill pen never stopped working during this time.

This is not unusual.

The King of Records' pen has been running without ceasing for an entire era, and He has never failed to record any major event in the known history of any wizarding civilization.

But this time, the rhythm of the pen changed.

It was no longer that steady, solemn stroke with the self-possessed air of a historian.

It jumps between documents at an almost frenzied frequency.

Every five minutes, the entire recording system completes a full-area scan.

Precisely mark the location, remaining magic power, current threat level to existing defenses, and distribution of available combat forces within a nearby radius of all escaped prisoners.

These records are automatically pushed to an archive node called "Public Filing Channel".

From a technical standpoint, this channel has been almost never used by anyone since it was created.

It's just an ordinary program exit point in the King of Records document system.

According to regulations, anyone with formal wizard qualifications has the right to access this information.

The problem is that no one would have thought of coming here to look for maps during wartime.

Eve, alerted by the King of Absurdity, was the first to log in.

After figuring out how to find the channel entry, she embedded it into the auxiliary interface of the communication channel.

The real-time prisoner coordinate stream thus became her battlefield perception layer.

Those bouncing markers refreshed every five minutes in the channel, with a precision that sent chills down Trevel's spine.

Where did this come from?

“The public files from the King of Records,” Eve replied, flipping through another communication.

"Go read the access control instructions. In theory, everyone can see it, it's just that people haven't thought of doing so before."

Without saying anything more, Trevely fixed the interface to his communication node and immediately began to readjust the interception deployment on the southern line based on the new data.

The channel then picked up sounds from other people:
The anvil sent over the connection confirmation;

The coordinator in the sea area asked about the refresh interval, and after receiving a reply, there was no further explanation.
Even some old wizards who rarely speak up completed the connection within minutes.

The entire system quietly completed a spontaneous integration in the gaps of the battle.

The river found the lowest crevice, and no one needed to dig it; the weight of the water itself was enough.

Afterwards, a high priest specifically asked Salcardo about the "purpose" behind this large-scale real-time push notification.

The King of Records put down his quill. "I am merely fulfilling my duty of recording. If this record happens to have practical value for someone, that is an inherent property of the record itself, and has nothing to do with my subjective intentions."

The great wizard wisely refrained from pressing the matter further.

Some answers only become more ambiguous the more you ask for them.

On the outskirts of the Craftsman's Labyrinth, the King of Perfection did not leave.

He squatted in front of the flowerbed, took the restored plants out of the soaking solution, and carefully wiped the remaining moisture from the roots.

The soil moisture in cell number 37 is too high; we need to wait a while before planting.

He waited like that, and after that reminder, he neither looked at the inner chambers of the maze nor paid attention to any movement from the direction of the main world.

However, the spatial stability system surrounding the Craftsman's Labyrinth quietly underwent a parameter adjustment during this period.

Several spacetime paths that originally led to the edge of the central land have become folded loops.

From a spatial perception perspective, it is no different from a normal passage.

The road is straight, the direction is right, and there are no obstructions to the view ahead.

But after every hundred steps, you return to the starting point.

The three escaped prisoners stumbled into that loop and spent more than twice the time they had planned before realizing they hadn't gone anywhere.

They wandered around there for a long time, like ants trapped on a Möbius strip, anxious and confused.

These three were later kept on the periphery and never entered the core area of ​​the main battlefield.

The King of Perfection has not made any statement regarding the origin of this spatial loop.

When questioned indirectly later, He simply lowered His head and continued gardening.
"What's so special about keeping track of things to prevent them from messing up my flowerbed?"

The skyline of the Central City was briefly punctuated by something that shouldn't have been there.

It was several times larger than any known wizarding avatar.

It hangs above the core area of ​​the floating city, a bottomless vortex with inward-curving, swallowing arcs at its edges.

Those who witnessed Cassandra's full power, as well as those who had only read about her, all experienced a similar reaction at the same moment.

Gluttonous Vortex, the archmage of the Fourth Age who holds the record for the highest number of battles fought on the front lines.

It is currently in full operation, suspended above the city.

But Cassandra herself was very puzzled.

She was standing in the corridor of the core area at this moment, without unfolding any of her ethereal forms.

The real vortex of gluttony is right where it belongs, motionless.

Upon seeing the even more imposing and terrifying demise than before, the Star Domain Lord was alarmed and halted his ongoing formatting process.

His sensory system began to scan and assess the reality of the vortex.

This needs time to prove, and that's exactly the time Eve needs.

On the other side of the corridor, she was already moving.

The King of Absurdity's second card activates seven seconds after it determines the reality of the illusion.

"Everything is absurd"—the area where the spells failed has expanded over a wide area.

The invisible barrier was fully formed, as if a naughty child had dripped ink into a water tank.

The ink spread from the center, staining the entire waters of the central core area with an irreversible ambiguity.

At that moment, the Star Domain Lord realized that his methods had lost their footing.

The first card fell immediately afterward—"Who is lying?"

The Lord of the Star Realm never lies; He detests lies.

But He never admits what He is doing; silence, or tacit approval, is sometimes very close to a lie.

When the "who is lying" field effect is activated, it becomes a reflection pointing towards itself.

Eve didn't bother to examine what was reflected in the shimmering light; it was beyond her current capabilities.

All she needs to know is that she has succeeded.

In areas where the color was fading, the color is slowly returning.

At the same time, the End of Death also updated the game record.

Each stroke, devoid of any emotional coloring, is comparable to that of the king of records.

He began to accelerate.

The activation of the epochal change mechanism requires a series of interdependent key nodes.

…………

On the other side of the artisan's labyrinth stone chamber, something begins to stir.

Before Ron could even confirm the source, the ball of light had already taken shape within his perception range.

He could feel his ethereal body spontaneously entering a defensive stance.

A voice echoed in his mind: "What are you doing here?"

"The outside is about to collapse."

Ron revealed his prepared statement:

"The end of death is to drive the change of eras, and He wants to take advantage of this to restart the editing rules."

The tranquil light did not react immediately after he finished speaking:
"That's not enough."

The tone was completely flat:

“Every time an era changes, someone comes to wake me up, with similar reasons and similar words.”

"But the change of eras is normal; it should happen, and it has always been happening."

It happened while I was awake, and it happened while I was asleep; I never had to stop it.

“I know,” Ron said.

These two short words shut down any potential persuasive approaches.

The light, which had been languidly focused its attention, now became concentrated.

"You expected this answer."

"Yes."

"I've come to ask you something."

The light remained still for a moment.

"explain."

"How long has that first creation been by your side?"

The light slowly came to a stop:

“It has been there ever since I received the title of ‘Creator’.”

Ron thought of that book:

“I tried reading it in the inner room.”

The ball of light shifted slightly in his direction.

"I didn't take anything with me, I just wanted to see what it saw."

“I saw all the detours you took, every moment you felt like you had failed, and the reasons why you chose to continue after each failure.”

"What are you trying to say?" The orb of light trembled slightly.

Ron continued as if in casual conversation:

“What I want to say is that you have been able to honestly record all the failures and keep them with you all this time.”

The ball of light hovered in the air once more.

"What does this have to do with you waking me up?"

"Yes, there is a connection."

Ron emphasized those two words very clearly:
"Because there is no such thing at the end of death."

“What He wants is to rewrite, to clear, and to start afresh from a point that He deems more advantageous.”

"You keep these failures because you know that failure itself cannot be erased; you can only choose to turn it into something else."

The Creator remained unmoved: "That is my judgment, not yours."

"But it's mine too."

Ron was almost saying this to himself.

"I created a civilization on your little chessboard."

"It was born, struggled, and developed religion, philosophy, and intellectual debates within the framework it built itself."

Later, amidst internal strife, he met his end in a way he chose to.

"I neither made it immortal nor held it back."

"Go on."

"In that civilization, some people learned that they had been designed."

There was no breakdown or anger, nor did they kneel before the designer seeking refuge.

He chose to continue living in his own way, until the very end, walking into the fire he himself had chosen.

The subtle background noise that had been present in the stone chamber disappeared.

"Does he know that you are the designer?" the Creator asked, confirming.

"I don't know. He only knows that there is a designer. This has nothing to do with how he is going to live."

That tranquil light began to change.

"That's your question," said the Creator. "Or is it a question you want to ask me?"

Ron replied, "Both."

The Creator remained silent for a long time, then replied abruptly:
"The outside world has indeed changed a lot."

"Yes."

"I need some time."

The awakening of this second demon god was not spectacular.

That tranquil light slowly began to awaken slightly.

Like someone who has been asleep for a long time, rubbing their eyes.

At the entrance to the Craftsman's Labyrinth, the King of Perfection is sticking his shovel back into the ground.

The ball of light floated out of the passage and paused briefly as it passed by its students.

There was no exchange of words between them; in that brief pause, everything that needed to be said had already been said.

The Creator continued to drift forward and disappeared into the depths of the dimension.

Hephaestus pulled the shovel out again and turned to Ron in the hallway:

"Well done."

“I also thank Your Majesty for the reminder and help,” Ron replied.

"Ah."

"Then I must take my leave. The situation outside is a bit tense, and I need to return to the Central Lands as soon as possible."

"Go."

The amount of time he spent in the inner room, I don't know, is equivalent to how much in the main world.

But time on the battlefield is always compressed, and every minute is more precious than usual.

Ron first sent a communication signal to Chloe and the others, informing them that his mission was complete.

Salamanda's response came almost instantly:

"We've been waiting for you in the main world for a long time."

There was a slight delay in the signal on Chloe's end, a little later.
"Everyone is on the battlefield."

Ron quickened his pace.

The sense of crisis remained, like a needle stuck in the air, neither moving nor disappearing.

The source still cannot be found.

He placed this signal at the forefront of his consciousness and headed towards the exit.

At the end of the passage, the light from the exit was normal, with nothing unusual about it.

He lifted his foot and stepped over.

Just as his right foot landed on the side facing the exit, the needle that had been suspended in mid-air pierced through. (End of Chapter)