Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

The end of death does not require personal intervention.

That line was laid a long time ago.

The aura of the King of Absurdity leaves its mark on everyone deeply connected to Hector.

He carried with him that "ticket" and that "paradoxical die," both of which were ropes that could not be severed.

Every wisp of the aura that these things carry is an extension of Hector's authority.

Hector's authority, however, is absurd.

The essence of absurdity is randomness.

Anyone who tries to use randomness as a tool will eventually find that randomness is a knife that is sharpened from two directions at the same time.

They are fully aware of the end of death.

Therefore, He did not try to control the knife.

Only at the right moment did he subtly change the angle at which the knife was positioned.

It is a well-known fact that the King of Absurdity cannot be chosen, and it is the reason why the Joker has been able to live to this day.

However, the "aura" of the King of Absurdity is not entirely the same as the King of Absurdity himself.

The aura that lingers on those beings scattered throughout the world who are connected to Him.

They are all remnants of absurdity, extensions of authority, but lack the utter unpredictability of His true self.

They are afterimages, the lingering echoes of the song in the hall after the performance has ended.

The final act of death borrows only this lingering charm.

Trigger, but not actively drive.

Let randomness teleport someone who has briefly lost protection in the cracks of power.

The destination of the teleportation is also a result of that absurdity generating itself.

Once the teleportation occurs, Ron will be unable to return for a very long time, similar to Cassandra before him.

Death's End shifted its focus back to the other advancing storylines.

The change of eras is itself a stable, predictable sequence of events that proceeds according to existing patterns.

This time, however, too many things outside the pre-set framework have been mixed in.

It started with that young man who became a great wizard before he was a hundred years old;
That ancient alchemist held onto the Weaver Girl of Fate at the edge of death;

Then there's the coordinates of the nameless, and the ubiquitous yet troublesome grinning faces...

Each one, taken individually, is still within His control.

But if they come together, those scattered variables find each other;
If Ron and Chloe reunite, backed by the power of the Creator, and summon Apocalypse...

Therefore, from the moment Valdis failed;

When Hector's power appeared in that intervention, He was already putting the second line into practice.

Chloe cannot be dealt with so easily anymore, at least not in the short term.

But Hector intervened, and due to the restrictions imposed by the ruling wizard king, he could not intervene a second time in a short period of time.

In addition, there are various actions Ron takes on the small chessboard.

And in the process of helping Chloe maintain her condition, she became covered in a lot of spiritual energy.

The lingering absurdity and the aura of the spirit world coexist.

The end of death, in that instant, gave that lingering absurdity a very light touch.

He gently touched a die that was hovering at the critical point.

The dice rolled.

Given the strength of Ron's connection with the King of Absurdity, and using the aura of the spirit world as a guiding medium, the landing point will most likely be in the spirit world.

………………

The clear, ringing sound of thin ice breaking underfoot could be heard.

Ron looked down, and the spot where his right foot landed was no longer the stone brick floor of the Craftsman's Maze.

A dark, semi-transparent "lake" is spreading out at the exit of the entire passage.

Ripples spread outwards from the liquid surface, the edges of which swallowed the outline of the door frame that should have been there.

The liquid had already seeped half an inch into the sole of his boot, and it was climbing up the seam.

The temperature was extremely low, and it had a damp, musty smell that only comes from a cellar.

There was no time to retreat; he sank completely.

The process was surprisingly gentle.

There was no feeling of suffocation or the burning pain of water entering the nasal cavity, nor was there any instinctive resistance from the body to weightlessness.

Something caught him in a net as he fell, gently bringing him to safety.

But this was not a good thing; the net was carrying him deeper into the ocean at a constant rate.

Ron accomplished three things during the subsidence:

First, confirm that the illusory remains intact and that the three pillars of the [Dark Threshold] are functioning normally;

Second, identify the source of the guidance from the divination cards and the sense of crisis.

The exit itself had been tampered with; by the time he stepped out of the maze, the teleportation was already mostly complete, and the remaining steps were just a matter of inertia.
Third, check his storage space; he should still have most of the essentials on him.

"We've been set up."

He calmly came to a conclusion in his mind.

The meaning of the reversed Tower card on the divination cards is only now being fully revealed.

The disaster originated from within.

"Internal" refers to his connection with the King of Absurdity.

Those gifts from Hector that he carried with him for years, with their lingering absurdity, have become exploitable gaps in his life.

The Red Moon in its upright position indicates that an unseen force is at work.

Death's End did not personally intervene.

He simply moved a die that was already hovering on the edge at the right moment, and randomness did the rest of the work on its own.

Ron was not angry.

Anger has zero practical value in the current situation, and he never wastes energy on things that have zero value.

While I was thinking, the settling stopped, and my feet touched the solid surface.

He opened his eyes and saw a shifting city-state, half real and half illusory.

The spirit world didn't give him a welcome sign at the entrance; he recognized the place himself.

Barnabas's necronomical framework contains extremely detailed descriptions of the edge of the spirit world:
"Whenever a living person is brought into the spirit world, no matter which crack they fall from, the first thing they see is the same city."

The city's name, 'Ferry Crossing,' is derived from the final dock between life and death.

At this moment, he was standing on this dock.

The street was sometimes wide and sometimes narrow. Ten steps to the left was a towering pavilion, and ten steps to the right was only half a broken wall and an arcade shrouded in mist.

The building materials all have a sense of fluidity; the joints between the stones will slowly shift and then quickly recover, in a continuous cycle.

There was no sun in the sky; the light came from the paving stones on the ground.

The light spread upwards along the cracks in the stone, and above that was a deep gray curtain.

When he retrieved the Echo Tree seed before, he used a projection of his consciousness, dipping his hand into the water.

Remaining in a safe zone in the material world, one extends only a wisp of perception into the depths of the spiritual realm, completing the scanning, locking, translation, and withdrawal at an extremely high speed.

The spirit world I saw at that time was extremely deep, with all the details compressed and highly abstract.

Now, he landed completely in the spirit world, his entire body submerged in the water.

Ron stood on the street for a while, completing a preliminary scan of the surrounding environment.

He looked down at his hands; the back of his hands was steaming.

This is the aura of the living: vitality, body temperature, positive magical circulation, and the intricate resonant bond between the ethereal bodies...

All signals that mark oneself as a living being begin to leak out in the face of the underlying rules of the spirit world.

The speed isn't fast; the great wizard will have some time to spare after entering the spirit world.

The void itself is a semi-energetic structure.

When the soul breaks through, it also undergoes a deep fusion with the rules, which gives it a certain degree of resistance to assimilation into the spirit world.

However, this margin has boundaries.

If this time is exceeded, the foundation of the three pillars will begin to loosen.

The definition of being alive among the living souls will gradually be rewritten by the underlying rules of the spirit world, transforming them from "temporary visitors" to "deceased awaiting placement."

But there's a bright side too; Acelia's voice is now ringing out very lively:
"How did you end up in the spirit world again?!"

The dragon soul turned over in the depths of his spiritual sea:
"I can sense the spiritual particles in the air; the concentration is so high, it's practically enough to eat!"

Back in the material world, I lived off your scraps every day. Can you imagine the suffering a dragon endures eating scraps every day?

"Acelia!"

"What are you doing?!"

"We were transported to the spirit world."

Dragon Soul paused briefly for a beat: "...What do you mean?"

"The lingering influence of the King of Absurdity's authority within me triggered an irresistible teleportation."

The exit coordinates were rewritten, and the landing point is now the spirit world.

"The whole person? Not a projection of consciousness?"

"The whole person."

Aseria's excitement subsided considerably: "How do we get back?"

"Still looking."

Ron wasn't lying; he was indeed still looking.

The problem is that it's easy to get into the spirit world, but difficult to get out.

Its logic is the same as that of the stomach and intestines digesting food. Have you ever seen a steak that, after being eaten, can crawl back onto the plate on its own?
"So your current situation is..."

Aseria slowly concluded: "Being killed... well, the Demon God set it up."

They were thrown into the place He governs where the dead belong; they have a certain period of time to move around, but there is no clear plan for their escape yet.

"That's a very accurate summary."

Dragon Soul seemed even more anxious than him:
How can you be so calm?
If you can't go back, you'll be dead like me. Your wife is still waiting for you to come home in the Central Land!

"We're trying to figure out a way to get out, aren't we?"

Ron ended his conversation with Azalea and turned his attention back to the streets of Ferry Town.

People came and went in the ferry town, and all sorts of figures passed by on either side of him.

Some of them were beginning to take on human form, dressed in various kinds of clothing, with clear faces but empty eyes;
Some were left with only half a torso, their lower bodies turning into light mist, leaving long trails as they moved.

Some are so unrecognizable that they are no longer recognizable as their original species, appearing only as blurry patches of color.

But these passersby all had one thing in common: no one paid any attention to him, this living person who had unexpectedly wandered in.

As they passed Ron, they naturally avoided his location, as if avoiding an inconspicuous lamppost.

Occasionally, two or three wandering spirits would collide with each other, passing through each other's bodies without even stopping their footsteps.

"The living and the dead have no basis for interaction on the surface of the spirit world."

Ron quickly quoted the spiritual theories he had learned in his mind:

"Unless one party takes the initiative to establish a 'dialogue frequency,' the two sides will remain as if they are invisible to each other."

The fact that no one was watching him made him feel a little relaxed.

In a completely unfamiliar dimension filled with unknown rules, being unnoticed is actually an advantage.

He can use this neglected time to quickly assess available resources and plan his escape route...

Just as I was thinking this, a pedestrian stopped.

Ron's thoughts were interrupted at that moment.

The "person" turned from the intersection on the right and stopped three meters in front of him.

This guy is short, no taller than his waist.

He wore a gray uniform and a round hat on his head, the brim of which hung down so low that it almost covered half of his face.

He looked up, revealing a face that looked distinctly like a student's: "Alive?"

His words were full of resentment; Ron's presence had undoubtedly added unnecessary workload for him.

"Yes."

"Oh."

He opened the folder in his hand and scanned the dense text with his eyes.

He then took out a pencil from his hat and drew a checkmark on a certain line.

"Without proper documentation, this constitutes illegal entry."

The pencil tip touched the paper, and a note was added after "illegal entry".

"File the application, record it, and send it to the temporary detention area for further processing."

The moment the words were spoken, a sense of oppression surged in from all directions.

The wandering spirits that had previously ignored him on both sides of the street suddenly stopped moving.

All the drifting, passing through, and unconscious wandering froze at the same moment, as thousands of empty gazes turned towards us from all directions.

Ron felt the paving stones beneath his feet begin to heat up.

A blurry human-shaped silhouette rose from the ground.

They were all wearing the same style of gray uniform, but they were taller and stronger, and what they were holding were not folders, but shackles.

“A spirit patrol?” Ron quickly compared the description to Barnabas’s account in his mind.

The clerk closed the folder, took two steps back, and made room for the patrolmen who kept appearing.

"If I obtain a replacement certificate now, can I use the proper channels to export it?"

Ron tried to communicate with him.

He certainly didn't want to take action until the very last step; who knew what hidden rules the spirit world might have?

"The program has started."

The clerk added in a voice utterly exhausted:
“If you cooperate, the procedures will be quick; if you don’t cooperate…” He thought for a moment, “It’s not impossible, but it will create extra workload.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the patrolmen formed a fan shape and began to converge towards Ron.

The number of them was not small, and their formation was quite orderly, clearly indicating that they were already very adept at handling this situation.

Ron quickly scanned the encirclement, assessing the patrolmen's strength level.

The conclusion surprised him slightly; none of them were strong.

In terms of magical power alone, each patrolman is roughly equivalent to a Morning Star wizard in the material world.

Even if a dozen or so are added together, it's just a matter of blinking an eye for a great wizard.

But the problem lies in the environment.

He is now standing on the territory of the spirit world.

The rules here are unfavorable to the living; every time the power of the ethereal body is used, it accelerates the depletion of vital energy.

If large-scale battles begin on the surface of Ferry City, the remaining time will be significantly reduced.

Moreover, he was unsure what chain reaction killing the patrolmen would trigger.

Killing a law enforcement patrol officer could very well trigger an emergency response across the entire ferry town.

That would really stir up a hornet's nest.

Just then, Azalea's excited voice came: "Don't do anything yet, watch my performance."

The power of the dragon soul was fully unleashed in the spirit world.

In the material world, Azalea is limited to the form of existence of "a remnant soul residing in a living person".

There's only so much she can do; she can only transmit the dragon's power through bloodline resonance.
They can also provide tactical advice and historical insights, and occasionally help keep watch on the surroundings.

But in the spirit world, the soul is the true form.

A silver dragon shadow rose up from behind Ron.

At first, it was just a wisp of light, carrying the unique electric arcs of the silver dragon.

The light fog began to expand, condense, and solidify, growing larger and more solid.

Until those golden vertical pupils opened, the scattered and exploding lightning extinguished all the paving stones on the ground.

The patrolmen simultaneously stopped gathering their weapons, gripping their shackles tightly as if facing a formidable enemy.

The short figure dropped the pencil in his hand and looked at the silver dragon that took up half the street.

"........."

He squatted down and picked up the pencil:
"Add one more: illegal entry, and carrying an undeclared large spiritual entity."

"Also, what is your death certificate number?"

The silver dragon looked down at the little creature, somewhat annoyed: "You want me to give you a death certificate?"

"When that guy killed me, she didn't give me any receipts."

The short figure clipped the pencil to the brim of his hat and opened another part of the folder.

“Unnatural death without proof... falls under the category of ‘replacement for lost documents’.”

"A death certificate, a remnant identification report, and a signed confirmation from the perpetrator are required..."

"Signature of the perpetrator confirming?"

Acelia's voice suddenly rose eight octaves:

"You want Pandora to sign a statement saying 'I did kill this dragon'?"

Ron let out a very soft laugh: "Acelia."

"……What."

The dragon soul's voice was muffled, and its golden vertical pupils were still fixed on the short figure.

There's no need to get impatient with these clerks.

The silver dragon spewed hot air from its nostrils, forming a small thundercloud in the air.

The short figure raised his hand and pressed down his round hat:

"The waiting time has expired, and we are now officially entering the 'refusal to cooperate' process."

"Further explanation: Given that illegal immigrants are carrying large, spiritual entities, the security level has been raised two levels, from routine patrols to..."

He turned a page: "Domain-level blockade."

The ground in Ferry Town began to shake, and all the paving stones on the entire street turned a glaring orange-red at the same time.

It moved incredibly fast, covering the entire area within Ron's field of vision in just two breaths.

More gray figures rose from beneath the ground, fifty, eighty... and the number continued to increase.

Their size was also changing, with the patrolmen rising from the back row being noticeably taller.

A rumbling sound came from afar, and several pavilions that were originally half-illusory began to solidify rapidly, forming an impenetrable blockade.

One of the largest law enforcement officers walked at the front.

He was holding up a glowing sign with standard Mandarin on it:
[Those who gave birth illegally, please stop moving and cooperate with the extradition process]

Acelia looked at the sign for two seconds, then turned to Ron and asked:
"They said you're an illegal immigrant."

"Well, I see it."

Do you think the words on this sign make sense?

“I am certainly a legal living person, but my entry procedures were indeed not very proper.”

"Oh, I understand now."

She turned her head back and winked at the sign:

“We’re facing the entire spirit world system, so there’s no need to waste time with these small fry… So what do we do now?”

Ron has already made his judgment.

We can't afford to fight.

Staying where you are and waiting for things to be dealt with is not an option either.

He had no idea what would happen if he were sent to the temporary detention area, but it would most likely further reduce his already limited time.

The only option was to leave.

"Let's get out of here first, and look for an exit as we run."

Azalea seemed to have been waiting for him to say that.

The silver dragon slashed down with its claw, firmly gripping Ron's lower back and lifting him up onto its back.

The dragon scales feel cool and dry to the touch, with sharp edges, but they curl up slightly for the rider they have chosen, forming a natural locking mechanism.

Ron steadied himself and gripped the bone spurs on either side of his neck with both hands.

Azalea's wings were fully extended.

The wing membrane vibrated violently within the spiritual particles, and with each flap of the wings, the surrounding area was vaporized into a vacuum by the electric arc.

She looked up at the army of gray patrolmen surging in from all sides.

Dozens of spiritual chains shot from different directions, targeting her limbs and wing roots.

The patrolmen's strategy was clear: first restrict mobility, then carry out containment.

The silver dragon leaned back slightly, its roar gathering power deep within its chest.

"ROTH'GAR THEK!" (Bowing down!)

The chains that were flying towards them all exploded, turning into a pile of fragments.

The twenty patrolmen in the front row retreated simultaneously, and countless cracks appeared on their spiritual bodies.

The stronger patrolmen in the back row withstood the impact, but were visibly stunned for two or three seconds.

That's just the right amount of force.

Azalea's wings flapped suddenly.

The paving stones on the street were shattered by the airflow and deliberately propelled outwards.

It hit the surrounding patrolmen, causing additional chaos.

The silver dragon rose from the ground, and Ron's hair was completely blown back by the wind pressure.

In the field of vision, the streets of Ferry Town rapidly transformed from a flat view to an aerial view.

In the blink of an eye, they had flown above the Ferry City complex.

The gray sky loomed overhead, but there was still enough space to fly.

Aseria sped through the gap between the building's top and the sky, her silver-white body tracing dazzling arcs.

Below, the patrolmen of Ferry City began their pursuit.

The figures in gray uniforms took off from the ground and formed several pursuit squads.

Their flight speed is far slower than that of the dragons, but they have the advantage of large numbers and are extremely familiar with the spatial structure of Ferry City.

Several formations chose to take shortcuts, emerging from gaps in the buildings in an attempt to form an interception network ahead.

Which direction?

As Acelia asked as she flew.

The patrolmen who got too close were paralyzed by the electric arcs created by its flight and slowed down to avoid it.

Ron activated his spiritual senses on her back.

The entire cityscape of Ferry Town quickly unfolded in his perception.

This is a vast, gray city without clear boundaries, built from countless dead souls.

The density is highest in the city center, becoming sparser towards the outer edges, until it transitions into the deeper, desolate wasteland of the spirit realm.

"outward."

He made a judgment.

"Once they leave the area of ​​Ferry Town, the patrolmen's jurisdiction should come to an end."

The administrative system of the spirit world is the same as that of the material world; it operates on a territorial basis, and once an enemy leaves its territory, it has no authority to pursue them.

Aseria's dragon head turned toward the outer perimeter of Ferry City, and the frequency of her wing flapping increased once again.

She was perfectly at home in the spirit world.

Every breath it takes absorbs spiritual particles, and each flap of its wings is more powerful than the last.

That sense of freedom, which has been suppressed in the material world for so long, is returning piece by piece, spreading from the tip of the tail all the way to the head of the dragon.

"After being dead for so long, I can finally stretch."

At this point, the entire silver dragon performed a dizzying rolling flip in the air.

Ron felt like a piece of clothing being tossed around in a washing machine.

"Acelia!"

"what happened?"

"Could you please give us advance notice before you start flipping through it?!"

"Oh, so are you ready?"

"You've finished reading."

"I know, that's why I'm asking you if you're ready for the next one."

"Huh? Next one..."

Before he could finish speaking, the second roller appeared.

The gray skyline of Ferry City rotated 360 degrees in the field of vision, and the patrol squad below was left even further behind by this sudden change of direction.

The aesthetics of dragon flight and the comfort standards of riders have never intersected.

"Hold on tight, we're about to leave."

Acelia chuckled softly.

The edge of Ferry Town had come into view.

The building density dropped sharply, and the fluorescent paving became increasingly dim, quickly transforming into an endless, gray-white wasteland.

The last patrol team stopped at the edge of the city.

They hovered on the dividing line, their bodies beginning to blur at the edge, chains hanging down beside them.

Ron glanced back.

As expected, it is under local jurisdiction.

Once outside the territory of Ferry City, the patrolmen's forms become unstable, and they are unable to leave their assigned domain.

On the edge of the city, the short clerk was also in the queue.

Even from this distance, Ron could still see him open the folder and write something on it.

It's probably "escape".

After crossing the dividing line, Azalea gradually slowed down, and her wings switched from full-speed mode to gliding.

Ron released his grip on the bone spur.

"Are you alright?" Acelia asked.

"Alive."

"That's good."

"I almost got left behind by you."

"You're a great wizard, you won't die from a fall."

"Not dying from a fall and being comfortable are two different concepts."

Acelia snorted, flapped her wings again, and gained a slight altitude:
"On my back, you have to adapt to my flying style."

"You call this a 'mode of flight'?"

"This was the most advanced aerial combat maneuver in the young Dragons back then. Even the Dragon King praised my quick stops and rolls for being fast and stable."

"The Dragon King is also a dragon. Dragons praise each other's flying skills, but they don't actually ride in them."

"Humph!"

The silver dragon's tail tip lashed at Ron, but not with much force.

The gray wasteland unfolds beneath my feet, stretching to the horizon where it disappears into nothingness.

They are safe, temporarily. (End of Chapter)