Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 222 The Seed of the Throne
"You need not blame yourself, Holy Disc."

Her voice was like the song of a lark, so beautiful that it could make one forget all pain: "The real game has only just begun."

Mr. Saint Pan looked at the three Supreme Apostles with confusion, not understanding their true intention in summoning him at this moment.

Nass's nebula-like body slowly floated forward, its central heart pounding violently a few times.

"The timeline has been revealed, and the pivotal moment of destiny is approaching."

His voice, like a hard object colliding, pierced Mr. Saint Pan's eardrums:

"That human named Ron Ralph possesses unimaginable potential in his soul."

Just then, the Void Spider's silk threads suddenly extended forward, weaving into a complex rune in mid-air.

The runes spun and twisted, eventually extracting a fist-sized, blood-red bead.

The blood droplet slowly floated to Mr. Saint Disc, radiating a chilling energy fluctuation.

“This is the seed for the throne,” Magus announced calmly.
"I personally infused a trace of Apostle-level power into you. Once activated, it will temporarily enhance your abilities, giving you destructive power close to that of a Dark Sun-level wizard for a short period of time."

Mr. Shengpan stared in shock at the floating beads before him, unable to believe his ears.

Throne Seeds – these are the most precious gifts, usually bestowed only upon those considered potential throne holders.

"I...I'm not worthy," he stammered, his deformed half of his face twitching violently.

"You think this is for a lowly reptile like you?"

Isabella said sarcastically, a hint of disdain appearing on one side of her beautiful face:
“You are just a tool, a messenger. The real target of the seed is Ron Ralph.”

Nas's heart rate quickened, and the surrounding starlight began to twinkle.

“Give the seeds to Ron Ralph,” he commanded.
“If the opportunity arises, guide him to undergo the awakening ritual. But do not force it; the seed has its own guiding power.”

Mr. Saint Pan trembled as he reached out and took the blood-red bead.

The surface of the sphere was as warm as blood, and countless tiny lives seemed to be swimming inside. The sensation was both nauseating and fascinating.

“I understand, Your Majesties,” he said softly. “I will do my utmost to complete the mission.”

The nine eyes on Magus's mask blinked simultaneously, and the spreading threads began to retract back around the mask.

"Now, accept my blessing."

His voice echoed in Mr. Holy Disc's mind: "This will give you enough power to cross the dimensional barrier and return to the surface world."

The thin, black thread separated from Magus's body and pierced Mr. Holy Disc's chest like lightning.

An indescribable energy immediately surged into his entire body, igniting every cell, every nerve, and every inch of his soul.

Mr. Saint Pan let out a piercing scream and fell to his knees.

His body began to swell and twist, the deformed parts growing wildly and soon covering most of his body.

The bone blades that originally only existed on the right side pierced out from all over his body, and the black runes under his skin came to life, swimming around his body like countless tiny snakes.

What's most terrifying is his face.

The left half of the face, which had originally maintained a human form, began to melt, turning into a writhing mass of flesh covered with all sorts of sensory organs.

The mouth is split into three parts, each of which is covered with sharp teeth;

The nose disappeared, replaced by rows of tiny breathing holes;

The eyes changed from one to seven, varying in size and arranged randomly.

The pain lasted for about a minute, and when the energy injection was complete, Mr. Holy Disc had completely transformed into a monster.

He stood up, his height at least doubled, and he exuded a suffocating aura of power.

Despite his completely deformed appearance, his consciousness is clearer than before.

The power, like a raging torrent, surged within him, almost suffocating him.

"This is the power of the Apostles."

His voice became hoarse and distorted, each syllable carrying a distinct echo: "Too powerful."

The nine eyes on Magus's mask blinked in turn, seemingly checking on Mr. Sacred Disc's condition.

"The power is only temporary; it will only take effect when you activate it."

A cold glint emanated from beneath his spider mask:
"And even with this power, you will still be defeated by a true Dark Sun Wizard."

Even if the battle drags on, you'll find it difficult to defeat even a peak Moon-level opponent.

A cold smile also appeared on Isabella's half-beautiful face.

"Do not let power cloud your judgment, Holy Disc," she warned softly.

"At your current level, you are still like an ant in the face of a true powerhouse. Remain cautious and complete your mission."

Nass's nebulous form began to expand, gradually enveloping the entire space.

"The time has come, the fate is sealed." His voice came from all directions:

"Go, Holy Disc, fulfill your mission and become the stepping stone to the throne."

Mr. Holy Disc bowed his head deeply, signifying his submission.

He carefully stored the throne seed in a special pouch within his body, then stood up and awaited instructions to leave.

Magus's thread extended again, cutting a rift in the air.

A faint light flickered from the crack; it was a passage to the surface world.

“Go,” Magus commanded curtly.

Without the slightest hesitation, Mr. Holy Disc stepped into the crevice and disappeared into the darkness.

After the rift closed, the three Supreme Apostles remained in place, as if they were contemplating something important.

A hint of doubt appeared on Isabella's half-beautiful face.

“Mages’s sending the Holy Disk to bestow the seed of the throne was a complete waste of effort.”

Her tone clearly conveyed dissatisfaction:
"The throne seed that you extracted from there by expending your own power, plus the seeds generated by the other apostles expending a great deal of power."

Over thousands of years, hundreds have been scattered, but very few have even become ordinary apostles, let alone those of higher rank who can become our companions.

Nass's nebula body rippled slightly, and the eyes around his heart shimmered with complex light.

“I agree with Isabella’s point of view.”

His voice was extremely hoarse and unpleasant, interspersed with crackling sounds of electricity.
"The timeline shows that the probability of success is still extremely low. Why invest so much energy in this human?"

Magus paused for a moment, and the black threads that made up his body trembled slightly.

"You're right," he finally spoke, his voice as indifferent as ever.

“But this time is different. I injected a large portion of pure energy to bring out this seed. It’s not just a casual attempt; I have high hopes for that Ron.”

The nine eyes on the mask flickered simultaneously, emitting a profound light.

"After all, even when I use my core abilities, I can't observe Ron's fate at all."

This sentence was like a bomb, exploding in space.

Isabella and Nas were both visibly surprised. The former lost her usual composure on one half of her face, while the latter's nebula-like body fluctuated violently, almost disintegrating.

"How...how is this possible?" Isabella asked in astonishment.
"Your 'threads' can see into the past and future, and can even observe the trajectory of beings at the level of a Witch King. How could you not see the fate of an ordinary human being?"

Nass's heart rate suddenly increased, and the eyes around him darted around frantically, as if calculating every possibility.

"There are only two explanations." His voice held a rare shock:
"Either this person has a powerful entity behind them capable of interfering with or even blocking your abilities."

"Either he possesses some special talent that transcends conventional understanding."

Magus picked up the conversation, his nine eyes on his mask flashing in turn: "Or perhaps both."

Silence enveloped the entire space.

The Supreme Apostles rarely had such moments of surprise, after all, over the long years they had witnessed almost every possible miracle and anomaly.

"If...if he really has that potential," Isabella's voice held a hint of barely perceptible expectation:

"Perhaps we can finally find the successor to the Fourteenth Throne?"

Magus's silken body expanded slightly, and the nine eyes on his mask lit up simultaneously, emitting a dazzling light. "That's why I'm willing to put in so much effort."

His voice remained calm, but the power it contained shook the entire space.
"Since the end of the Third Age when all thirteen of us were formed, the fourteenth throne has been vacant."

Perhaps, the long-awaited successor has finally appeared.

Nass's nebula-like body began to slowly rotate, and his heart, filled with eyes, pounded violently.

Isabella gently stroked her half of her flawless face, her fingertips tracing an almost imperceptible line.

"I remember how I became like this."

Her voice carried a hint of nostalgia, yet also an undisguised resentment:

"Originally, I was just a Morning Star Wizard with decent talent. I explored the Abyss in search of a higher realm, and was eventually lured by the seed, choosing the path of awakening."

Magus didn't say much; his silken body rippled slightly, as if he were sighing.

"That's why we need more of our kind."

There was no remorse or regret in his voice:

“Each of us was once a genius in the surface world, and we all have the potential to become Dark Sun Wizards or even higher.”

But we have all been lured here, and are now trapped in this abyss's prison.

Nass's nebulous form expanded outwards, enveloping the surrounding space.

Nas's nebula-like body trembled violently, and the eyes around his heart darted around uneasily.

"It is awakening."

Nass said in a low voice, his tone filled with extreme fear:

“I can feel it, not just us, but all the apostles can feel it—the Great Abyss itself is awakening.”

“Every new apostle is a new cell, a new anchor point, in the vast organism of the Abyss.”

His voice came from all directions:
"The constraints we feel are actually its control and absorption over us. The more it awakens, the more restricted we become."

"And what we can do is create more of our kind."

Magus added that there was an indescribable, twisted pleasure in his voice:

"Those geniuses who have the potential to become great wizards or even wizard kings, those potential enemies who may threaten it..."

One by one, they were lured here, becoming its nourishment and servants.

Isabella let out a sharp laugh, her half-perfect face contorting into a horrifying expression.

"How ironic that those who were most likely to challenge it ended up becoming its most loyal servants."

She spoke softly, her silver eyes flashing with a mad light:
"And we, these so-called Supreme Apostles, are nothing more than higher-level cage keepers."

Magus did not refute, and the nine eyes on his mask flickered in turn, as if he was thinking about something.

"But... the fourteenth throne."

He finally said, with a barely perceptible glimmer of hope in his voice, "Perhaps this is the key to breaking the deadlock."

Isabella and Nas fell silent, clearly shocked by the idea.

"You mean this time we're not creating a new prisoner, but..."

Isabella's voice trembled, and her scale-covered body glowed faintly: "A breaker?"

Magus's silken body expanded, and the nine eyes on his mask lit up simultaneously, dazzlingly bright.

"I don't know," he said honestly, his voice containing both reason and madness.

"But the fact that Ron Ralph's fate line is completely invisible to me is itself an unprecedented miracle."

Perhaps he will become the fourteenth High Apostle, perhaps.”

He didn't finish speaking, but the other two apostles clearly understood what he meant.

"Throughout history, all seeds of the throne have been lured into the abyss by geniuses,"

Nass's nebula-like body reassembled, and the eyes around his heart gleamed with an inexplicable light.
"But this time, perhaps we can try something different."

Silence once again enveloped the entire space, as the three Supreme Apostles were each immersed in their own thoughts.

At that moment, they seemed to have returned to their state before becoming apostles—rational, calm, and full of thirst for knowledge.

"In short, that sacred plate is irrelevant."

Isabella finally spoke, breaking the silence:
"He was merely a tool for transmission; although he was given temporary power, he was ultimately just a pawn."

Magus nodded slightly, and the eyes on his mask flashed in turn.

"But the real game has only just begun."

He spoke softly, his voice carrying an ancient expectation:

"Let's wait and see what surprises this human named Ron Ralph will bring us."

As his words fell, the figures of the three Supreme Apostles finally disappeared completely into the darkness of the Labyrinth Domain.

Only a silent space remains, and the words still lingering in the air:
"The fourteenth throne, the long-awaited heir."

………………

The seventh level of the abyss, the "Abyss of Souls".

Unlike the maze structure of the sixth floor, this place is more like an endless gray wasteland.

The grayness does not come from the ground or the sky, but from the ubiquitous fragments of the soul.

Countless lives that had entered this place but were assimilated had their remaining consciousness transformed into tiny gray specks of light, slowly floating in the air.

In a certain area of ​​this wasteland, there stood thirteen enormous thrones.

Each one is at least tens of meters high, made of different materials, and exudes a breathtaking majesty.

The thrones are not arranged in a straight line, but rather form a strange geometric shape.

From above, its shape resembles a distorted eye.

In the center of the throne, a huge gray vortex floated, constantly rotating and emitting a deep rumbling sound.

"The restlessness is starting again."

A deep voice came from the third throne.

It was a humanoid creature covered in dark red scales, with a dragon-like head and eyes that gleamed with golden light.

"It's not just here, the entire abyss is awakening."

Another voice responded, from the seventh throne.

A being composed entirely of liquid metal sat atop it, its body constantly shifting between human and beast forms, its outline always blurred and indistinct.

Why is Magus so obsessed with the Fourteenth Throne?

The being on the tenth throne spoke, its voice like shattering glass.

Its form is more abstract, like a sculpture made of countless broken bones pieced together, constantly twisting and deforming.

"Perhaps it's because the seeds are different this time."

On the fifth throne, a woman whose body was bound in chains answered.

Her skin was deathly pale, but her eyes were unfathomably black, and a faint smile played on her lips.
"Or perhaps he has grown tired of this eternal imprisonment and wants to seek change."

As soon as these words were spoken, the gray vortex began to fluctuate violently again, emitting a terrifying sound as if millions of creatures were screaming simultaneously.

The apostles on the throne simultaneously ceased their conversation and gazed at the ever-expanding vortex.

His eyes held both fear and an undisguised anticipation.

In this long imprisonment, any change, even destruction, is more delightful than eternal stillness.

At this very moment, change is quietly taking place.

(End of this chapter)