Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 237 Abyss Dwellers
Ron took the shimmering parchment and carefully unfolded it.

The paper is outlined with a complex topographical map in a semi-transparent ink, the lines sometimes clear and sometimes blurry, as if they could be reassembled at any moment due to changes in reality.

The edges of the map glowed faintly, a glow that did not come from the physical world, but rather was a trace left on the parchment by some profound magic.

"This is truly amazing."

Ron said softly, feeling a faint pulsation emanating from the map's surface with his fingertips, as if it were a living thing.

Some areas of the drawing still bear faded bloodstains—which are likely not ordinary ink, but the blood of the artist.

This is an ancient and stable method of marking, which remains clear even under the interference of abyssal energy.

Ron noticed that the bloodstains still retained a subtle life force, and even after many years, they had not completely disappeared.

“Using blood to mark is the oldest and most reliable way to map the abyss,” Mrs. Allen said with a touch of nostalgia.

She gently stroked the edge of the map, and tiny green lines instantly appeared on her skin before quickly disappearing.

"Ordinary ink will quickly fade and even become distorted under the corrosive influence of the abyss. But blood, especially the blood of a wizard, can resist this corrosive influence."

"This map is extremely valuable."

Ron spoke sincerely, his eyes filled with gratitude, his fingertips gently tracing the bloodstained areas, sensing a faint but clear remnant of life:

"Having such reference materials before the formal exploration would undoubtedly greatly increase my chances of survival."

Mrs. Allen shook her head gently, a self-deprecating glint in her dark green eyes.

Her finger traced a peculiar rune in the air, which glowed faintly before transforming into a wisp of silver mist that hovered between the two of them.

"Don't overestimate its value."

She projected a three-dimensional image of the map through the silver mist, and the distorted terrain of the abyss suddenly became visible in three dimensions:

"The abyss itself is a constantly writhing living thing, and many places marked on the map may have completely changed by the time you arrive."

With a light tap of her finger, the terrain in the projection began to distort and deform, mountains sank, rivers changed course, like a living painting constantly reshaping itself.

Ron was so engrossed in watching that he leaned forward slightly, trying to capture every detail.

Mrs. Allen walked to an old wooden chair and sat down, the chair legs scraping against the ground with a screeching sound, gesturing for Ron to sit down as well.

The sound broke Ron's reverie, and he came to his senses, realizing that he had been standing and staring at the projection for quite some time.

Upon seeing this, Lilia immediately brewed tea for the two of them, her movements fluid and inconspicuous, before quietly slipping away.

The aroma of tea slowly filled the air, adding a touch of tranquility to the conversation.

"If you really intend to explore the abyss."

Mrs. Allen took a sip of tea, her brow furrowing slightly at the bitterness of the tea.

She gently blew away the steam from the tea, and then the projection in front of her transformed into a scene of a small town built of gray stone bricks:
"We should go to Ashtown first. It's the largest outpost town near the entrance to the Abyss, and almost everyone who's planning to explore further will make their final preparations there."

Ron leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with a thirst for knowledge.

This was his instinctive reaction—when facing unknown dangers, intelligence is the most important weapon.

He leaned closer to the projection of the small town, observing the structure and layout of the gray buildings, trying to remember every detail.

"Ashtown is located at a safe distance of about a day's walk from the edge of the abyss."

Mrs. Allen flicked her finger, and the projection shifted to a massive, dark rift—the entrance to the abyss.
"Nevertheless, the town can still feel a faint presence from the abyss."

Her voice became low, almost a whisper:

"It's an unsettling sense of oppression, as if something is always watching you, observing your every move, waiting for the moment you make a mistake."

Mrs. Allen's eyes narrowed slightly, her black pupils shrinking into thin lines within her dark green eyes, as if she were recalling some unpleasant experience.

The projection darkened as her emotions fluctuated, and a thin layer of black mist appeared above the gray town, adding an eerie atmosphere to the whole scene.

"Many people who come to Ashtown for the first time have the same dream at night—that they fall into the dark depths of an abyss and are completely swallowed up."

She gently swirled the teacup, and the liquid formed a small vortex within, like an abyss swallowing life:
"For some weak-willed people, this dream alone is enough to make them leave immediately the next day."

She looked up and stared directly at Ron: "And most of those who stayed behind ended up as one-way travelers to the abyss."

Ron straightened his back instinctively; he could feel an invisible pressure emanating from Mrs. Allen's description.

Through her narration and magical projections alone, the oppressive feeling of the abyss had already formed a vague but unsettling image in his mind.

"Ashtown is a melting pot of all sorts of people,"

Mrs. Allen continued, as various figures began to appear on the projection screen:

Wizards in cloaks, fully armed mercenaries, explorers carrying huge backpacks, shrewd merchants, and even some strangely dressed madmen with wandering eyes.

"Wizards, adventurers, mercenaries, collectors, merchants." A barely perceptible sigh escaped her lips.
"—Even those madmen lured by the abyss. Some for wealth, some for power, some for knowledge, and some..."

Her voice lowered: "To escape the past."

Ron noticed a fleeting shadow of gloom in Mrs. Allen's eyes when she spoke of the last category of people.

"There are at least seven or eight well-known hotels in the town, each with its own unique characteristics."

Mrs. Allen waved her hand, changing the projection, and a bustling tavern appeared before the two of them.

The room was packed with all sorts of people, and the sounds of laughter and conversation seemed to really come from the projection.

"'Drunkard' is the favorite gathering place for adventurers. The drinks are cheap and information flows quickly, but the environment is noisy and dirty."

In the projection, a bartender is pouring drinks for a group of adventurers dressed in various styles, his face beaming but his eyes wary. The projection shifts again, revealing an elegant three-story building with uniformed waiters standing at the entrance, its interior lavishly decorated.

“'Silver Moon Inn' is the preferred choice for wealthy travelers. It is quiet, clean, and offers attentive service, but the price is more than three times that of a regular hotel.”

At this point, Mrs. Allen suddenly smiled, a smile as if recalling some interesting past event. Her eyes sparkled, and the wrinkles on her face smoothed out a little.

“I’ve stayed there a few times. Once, there was a guy in the next room who claimed to be a ‘descendant of the Balrog’ and spent all his time bragging about how he could control the flames of the abyss.”

A figure shrouded in a black robe appeared in the projection, with strange purple flames constantly shifting in its hands.

"Until one day, his room suddenly burst into an unquenchable purple flame, and two hours later, only a pile of ashes and a strange crystal remained."

In the projection, the entire room was engulfed by purple flames, leaving only a charred black area and a crystal shimmering with purple light.

“After that, Silvermoon Lodge established a rule—prohibiting the use of any items or spells related to the Abyss within the inn.”

A hint of sarcasm played at the corners of her lips.

Mrs. Allen paused, her fingers stopping for a moment as if she were thinking about something. The projection also stopped, forming a still image in the air.

There's also a place called 'Nightmare Hostel'.

Her tone became cautious, and a building with an ordinary appearance but a strong sense of unease appeared in the projection.

The windows were tightly shut, and a dilapidated sign that read "Nightmare Hostel" hung in front of the door.

"That place caters specifically to travelers who have already been contaminated by the abyss to some extent. The owner of the inn is said to be a Moon-level wizard who has found a way to slow the spread of the abyss's contamination. Of course, it comes at a high price."

The projection showed the interior of the hostel—a series of special rooms with walls covered in suppression runes.

Lying on the bed were passengers with ashen faces and vacant eyes, their skin covered with eerie black lines.

A complex emotion flashed in her eyes, and with a flick of her finger, the projection returned to the panoramic view of Ashtown:

“When I last left Ashtown more than a hundred years ago, it had been expanded three times, and the number of rooms was several times that of when I first saw it. You should be able to understand what that number means.”

Ron nodded thoughtfully, his fingers unconsciously tapping the rim of his teacup.

"It sounds like Ashtown itself is a place worth studying."

His mind raced, and he began to consider how to maximize his gains and safety in that environment.

"Indeed."

Mrs. Allen agreed, and the projection transformed into a group of residents of Ashtown. Their appearance was slightly different from that of ordinary humans—their skin was slightly grayish, and their eyes shone with an unusual light.

"Ashtown is an excellent place to study the effects of the Abyss. Its inhabitants have been living under the slight influence of the Abyss's aura for a long time, exhibiting some subtle but not negligible changes."

In the projection, a close-up of a resident shows the fine gray lines on his skin, and his eyes glow faintly in the dark.

"The skin was slightly dull, as if it were covered with a layer of dust that could not be washed off;

The eye has an exceptionally strong ability to adapt to darkness, allowing it to see in almost complete darkness;

Some people have even begun to develop unusual abilities, such as sensing fluctuations in abyssal energy or foreseeing impending danger.

Her tone suddenly turned warning, and the projection transformed into a bloody fight scene—two people were battling over a small crystal, and one of them ultimately pierced the other's chest:

"But don't be fooled by the apparent tranquility of Ashtown. The rules there are completely different from those in Black Mist Jungle; they are much bloodier and more direct. Under the influence of the Abyss, the darker side of human nature is often more readily revealed."

Mrs. Allen's voice became unusually serious, her eyes carrying a weariness born from witnessing too much darkness:
“I have seen a man plunge a knife into the chest of his longtime friend over a worthless piece of abyssal crystal; I have also seen a seemingly gentle businessman pour molten lead into the throat of a little boy who was trying to steal.”

The violent scenes were projected one by one. Although there was no sound, the visual impact was enough to make people feel nauseous.

A flicker of disgust and worry crossed Mrs. Allen's eyes:

"What's worse is that these things are no longer news in Ashtown. People talk about them as casually as if they were discussing the weather today."

Ron nodded, making sure to memorize the information.

He could feel the distorted atmosphere from the projection, and this real-life experience was far more valuable than any book record.

For a newly promoted official wizard, overconfidence is often the biggest weakness.

He needs these warnings to stay vigilant and avoid putting himself in unnecessary danger.

"Now, let's get to the core content, which concerns the shallowest edge of the abyss."

Mrs. Allen continued, her voice becoming more serious, her eyes flashing with vigilance.

"The curse effect is relatively weak, and most professionals with extraordinary powers can withstand it for a short period of time."

The mutants there are relatively weak, mostly being aberrations formed from lower organisms contaminated by abyssal energy—such as six-eyed worms, radiated toads, or bone-clawed rats.

Many schools of thought often send highly skilled apprentices to capture these mutants for experimentation and research.

The projection shows the images of these low-level mutants:

A giant worm covered in eyes, its body constantly oozing corrosive liquid;
A huge toad with several tumor-like sacs on its back that occasionally spray out poisonous gas;

There is also a group of bone-clawed rats whose claws are as sharp as knives and can easily cut through metal.

Mrs. Allen shook her head slightly, a sarcastic look on her face.

The creatures and human explorers in the projection intertwined, forming an eerie scene:

"Many people who explore the abyss for the first time tend to linger too long in the edge areas, feeling a false sense of security."

They didn't understand that this was merely a 'gentle trap' of the abyss—first acclimatizing you to weaker curses and dangers, then gradually luring you deeper until you can no longer escape.

(End of this chapter)