Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 587 The Prisoners of Paradise
In the meditation room on the top floor of the Emerald Mansion, moonlight poured down like water.

Eve sat cross-legged in the center of the magic circle, purple magic slowly swirling around her like a hesitant tide.

She has been in this position for three hours.

"Or not……"

She opened her eyes, her voice filled with deep weariness:
“I can understand ‘absurdity,’ accept ‘nihilism,’ and even experience those trials in the sand table…”

"But when I actually tried to resonate with the core of 'Absurd Tales'..."

She clenched her fist, her nails digging into her palm:

"There's always something stopping me, like an insurmountable wall."

A soft knock came from outside the door.

"Come in, mentor."

Eve gave a wry smile: "I know you've been out all this time."

Ron pushed open the door and entered, carrying two cups of hot tea.

He handed one of the glasses to Eve and sat down at the edge of the magic circle:

"It's been three hours, and your mental energy is greatly depleted."

"But I can't give up..."

Eve took the teacup, but didn't drink it:
"The promotion ceremony is tomorrow."

If I can't even achieve resonance with the core principles of meditation, how can I possibly advance to the next level?

Ron didn't answer immediately.

He simply gazed quietly at the night sky outside the window, where the moon was slowly being obscured by dark clouds.

After a long while, he finally spoke:
"Tell me, when you went through those trials in the sandbox, what was it that finally gave you an epiphany?"

"Yes……"

Eve recalled that experience:

"It was when I accepted the fact that there is no ultimate answer."

Knowing it's all in vain, yet still choosing to give meaning to one's existence...

"very good."

Ron nodded:

"Now, I'll ask you another question."

He turned around and looked directly at Eve:

"What are you thinking when you try to resonate with 'Absurd Tales'?"

Eve was stunned.

She opened her mouth, but found herself unable to speak.

Because the answer lies on the other side of that "wall".

"You're thinking..."

Ron said it for her:
"If I truly accept the meaninglessness of the world, then can I still care about my mentor?"
Can he still care about his mother, Grandpa Yutel, and other important people?

"If I became like my ancestors, able to laugh at everything, would I also laugh at those I cherish?"

Every word was like a sharp blade, precisely piercing the softest part of Eve's heart.

Her body began to tremble:
"I...I really..."

"This is the truth about that wall."

Ron's voice softened:
"You are afraid, afraid that in the process of understanding absurdity, you will lose the ability to love."

"But……"

Eve's eyes began to redden:
"Isn't the core idea of ​​The King of Absurdity to ridicule everything, including emotions themselves?"

"He can view everything with indifference, and can treat the most tragic things as a joke..."

"If I can't do this, does it mean that I'm not worthy of studying 'Absurd Tales' at all?"

"wrong."

Ron shook his head, but his tone became more serious than ever before:
"Your understanding of the King of Absurdity is too superficial."

These words made Eve suddenly raise her head.

"He mocks everything, but he never mocks 'choice itself'."

Ron stood up and walked to the window:

"He believes the world is meaningless, but that is precisely why every act of giving meaning to something is so precious."

"You think He is cold and ruthless? In fact, on the contrary, He is the being that most respects individual will."

"Because in an absurd world, we must stick to our choices."

Even if this choice seems foolish, futile, and doomed to failure... this in itself is the greatest rebellion against absurdity.

The moonlight shone down again, illuminating the young man's profile:
Ron turned around: "Do you know the difference between absurdism and nihilism?"

Eve shook her head.

Nihilism says: The world has no meaning, so everything is in vain and nothing is worth doing.

Ron's voice deepened:
“Absurdism, however, says: The world has no inherent meaning, so I choose to create meaning, even if that meaning will eventually disappear.”

"You love your mother, you love Professor Utter, you love all the important people in your life."

On a cosmic scale, these emotions have no 'objective value'.

"But it is precisely because you chose to love, to care, to build connections in the void..."

The courage to do this is the true essence of absurdism.

He walked back to Eve and gently placed his hand on her shoulder:

"The king of absurdity never asks you to give up love."

Instead, He wants you to love with clarity, with the clarity that 'knowing all of this will eventually fade away,' yet still choose to give it your all.

"This is the most absurd, and also the bravest."

Eve's tears finally welled up and spilled over.

This time, however, there was no confusion in the tears, only relief.

The wall collapsed with a crash.

She finally understood.

The king of absurdity mocks not emotions themselves.

He mocks those who think they have found the "ultimate meaning".

They are those who believe they have grasped the "absolute truth".

They are those who use "necessity" to restrict the free will of others.

But He never mocked:
Those who, knowing it's all meaningless, still choose to create meaning.

Those who know they will fail, but still choose to try.

Those who, knowing it's absurd, still choose to live life earnestly.

"I understand……"

Eve wiped away her tears:

"I can be an absurdist, and at the same time a gentle healer."

"I can see the emptiness of the world, yet I still choose to give warmth to others."

"I can laugh at those hypocritical 'meanings,' but I will still take the 'meaning' I choose seriously."

"These two are by no means contradictory."

"These are precisely the two sides of absurdity."

Ron nodded with satisfaction:
“Very good, you have found your own ‘way of absurdity’.”

"I will assist you throughout tomorrow's promotion ceremony."

"Get some sleep, recharge, and prepare for the real test."

Eve stood up, but did not leave immediately.

She walked up to Ron and solemnly performed a wizard's salute:

"Thank you, mentor."

"It wasn't as a teacher that I learned knowledge."

"Moreover, because of you as a 'human being,' you have taught me how to stay true to myself in this crazy world."

Ron smiled:
"Go and rest. Tomorrow, you will see a place that even I have only read about in ancient books."

"That's a secret place that the King of Absurdity has never opened to outsiders since he came to power..."

"Paradise" prison.

………………

The next morning.

Preparations for the promotion ceremony were proceeding smoothly in the underground chamber of the Emerald Pavilion.

Ron stood at the edge of the magic circle, holding a crystal that emitted a purple light in his hand.

Those were the "anchor coordinates" he had prepared in advance.

It is used to forcibly guide Eve's consciousness to a specific location during the promotion process.

Normally, the connection between the ascendant and the object of meditation is random, especially for an object like the King of Absurdity.

You might be linking to the “mocking” side of the King of Absurdity;
It may also link to the "deconstruction" aspect;
It might even link to a more abstract concept.

This randomness presents both opportunities and risks.

Good connections can make promotions more efficient.
Poor linking points can lead to permanent mental disorientation for those who are promoted.

But now, Ron wants to break this randomness.

“Eve.” He looked at the girl who had already changed into a ceremonial robe:
"When your consciousness starts to drift later, do not resist my guidance."

"I will help you anchor a special link point."

"That's the job of the King of Absurdity as the 'Ruling Wizard King'—guardian of the 'Paradise' prison."

Eve nodded solemnly: "I trust my mentor."

Ron took a deep breath and activated the crystal in his hand.

Purple light filled the entire secret chamber, illuminating the patterns of the magic array one by one.

Eve sat cross-legged in the center of the magic circle and began chanting incantations.

As the incantation progressed, her body began to become translucent.

The soul is gradually breaking free from the constraints of the body.

"It's now!"

Ron seized the opportunity and hurled the crystal in his hand into the center of the magic circle.

The crystal shattered in mid-air, turning into countless purple specks of light that swirled around Eve like fireflies.

These dots of light are "coordinate information" that Ron had pre-coded.

They will forcibly lock the direction of the link when the soul is most vulnerable and most easily misled.

Eve's consciousness began to fall along the path guided by these points of light towards a distant dimension...

………………

dark.

The boundless darkness.

Eve felt as if she had been thrown into the deepest abyss, where she could see and hear nothing around her.

The only thing that could be perceived was those purple dots of light, flashing ahead like road signs.

Following the guidance of the light, she continued to fall.

Time seemed to have stood still for an unknown period of time; here, time itself lost its meaning...

Finally, light appeared ahead.

It was a huge door.

The doors are made of pure white marble, with exquisite relief carvings on the surface:
Birds sing in the clouds, flowers bloom on the grass, and children play in the sunshine...

All the patterns convey the themes of "beauty," "peace," and "eternal happiness."

Above the door, a word is engraved in cursive script:

Paradeisos (Paradise)

Eve was stunned.

This door looks so pure, so sacred.

It doesn't look like the entrance to a "prison" at all.

It's more like the gateway to an ideal world in a fairy tale.

But just as she hesitated...

The door opened by itself.

There was no sound, no warning.

The doors opened silently to both sides, revealing the scene behind them.

At that moment, Eve's breath caught in her throat.

Behind the door was a long corridor.

On both sides of the corridor were individual prison cells.

Each cell door is made of transparent crystal, allowing a clear view inside.

Strangely, the interior decorations of each cell were completely different.

Some are magnificent palaces, resplendent in gold and jade;
Some are cozy little houses with warm fireplaces;
Some areas are vast grasslands, bathed in bright sunshine;
Some are even vast starry skies, with countless stars twinkling...

Each room is like a "dream" meticulously tailored for someone.

At the same time, Eve could sense that those "prisoners" were experiencing indescribable pain in their respective dreams.

"Welcome to 'Paradise', my child."

A voice echoed from the depths of the corridor.

The voice carried a mix of mockery, pity, and a deep weariness.

Eve looked in the direction of the sound.

At the end of the corridor, a figure was sitting on a dilapidated wooden chair.

He was dressed in a strange outfit that was half gorgeous robes and half tattered rags.

His face was painted with paint that showed half a smile and half a cry.

Saint Hector, the king of absurdity.

"Ancestors..."

Eve instinctively tried to bow, but was stopped by the other party waving her hand.

“Here, I have only one identity.”

Hector stood up, his bells jingling: "The keeper of 'Paradise'."

"This is a responsibility that every ruling wizard king must assume since the Second Age."

"Watching over these prisoners who were once glorious but are now insane."

His gaze swept across the cells on either side of the corridor, a rare hint of melancholy in his eyes:

"Did you know? The people imprisoned here are all wizards of the Dark Sun level or above."

“There are quite a few great wizards, and top-tier great wizards, even…”

He sighed:

"There was one who was once only half a step away from becoming the 'Witch King'."

Eve felt a chill creep up her spine.

Wizards of the Dark Sun level and above are already the absolute superiors in the outside world.

But here, they all became prisoners.

Hector's voice deepened:

"Many of them were connected to terrifying beings beyond the realm through meditation, and their souls were corrupted by indescribable things."

Some, however, were exposed to chaotic radiation for too long while exploring below the ninth level of the abyss, and their sanity gradually collapsed.

Others, in their pursuit of power, used forbidden techniques, the price of which was the dissipation of their own essence…

"Regardless of the reason, the result is the same."

“They’re crazy.”

Eve felt a tightness in her throat: "Insanity...is this their crime?"

"'Sin'?" Hector let out a mocking laugh. "Child, you are still too naive."

He turned around, his weary eyes looking directly at Eve:

“One-third of the prisoners here have indeed gone mad due to mental pollution; it's incurable, and the threat is too great, so they must be sealed away.” “But the other two-thirds…”

His voice became as if it were being squeezed out from the depths of his throat:
"Their 'crime' is that they learned secrets they shouldn't have known, questioned truths they shouldn't have questioned, or hindered the 'big picture' they shouldn't have hindered."

Eve's eyes widened: "You mean..."

"I mean, some people are locked up here not because they're crazy."

Hector's voice was as cold as ice: "It's because someone needs to make them look crazy."

"In this world, it is far easier to turn a sane person into a madman than to cure a madman."

"Especially when the person giving the order is at the very top of power."

He walked deeper into the corridor, gesturing for Eve to follow:

Do you know why the four demon gods never heal these prisoners?

Why do they allow these former geniuses to decay here, when they clearly possess the power to reshape the universe?

“Because…” Eve said tentatively:
"Does healing them mean admitting that you were wrong in the first place?"

“Clever.” Hector gave a sarcastic smile.

"Look, even a newly promoted girl like you can understand this principle, how could those 'gods' who have lived for countless epochs not understand it?"

But they chose to remain silent.

"Because the cost of admitting a mistake is far greater than the cost of maintaining a lie."

The cells on both sides of the corridor stretched out around them.

Each room tells a broken story, a buried piece of history.

“And your test…” Hector stopped in front of the first cell:

"It's about stepping into these 'dreams' and trying to have a dialogue with them."

“I’m not asking you to cure them—that’s almost impossible.”

"I only ask that you understand their situation without being assimilated by their madness or despair."

"Then……"

His voice became extremely tired:

"In your own way, offer them even if it's just a moment of genuine comfort."

Even this solace will eventually become part of the lie.

The crystal door slowly opened.

Eve took a deep breath and stepped toward the open door. Before crossing the threshold, she glanced back.

Hector remained standing in the corridor, his weary eyes fixed on her.

Behind Him, Ron's figure appeared and disappeared, a wisp of consciousness projected by His mentor, secretly protecting Him.

"Knowing it's all in vain, yet still dancing."

Eve silently recited the words in her heart and stepped into the dream of the first prisoner.

Inside the prison cell was an astonishingly large library.

The bookshelves stacked upon each other, extending upwards to the horizon and outwards to immeasurable distances.

Each bookshelf was filled with "books" of various shapes and sizes:
Scrolls of parchment, metal inscriptions, crystal records, and even some strange items made of unknown materials.

A figure sat at a reading table in the center of the library.

He was a man who looked to be around fifty years old.

He was dressed in a simple scholar's robe and wearing round-framed glasses, intently flipping through the book in his hands.

Hearing the footsteps, he raised his head with a gentle smile on his face:

"Oh, another visitor. Welcome, young lady."

His tone was polite and rational, and his eyes were clear, showing absolutely no signs of "madness".

“I am Norman Davenport, the administrator of this temple of knowledge.”

He closed the book, took off his glasses, and wiped them.
"I'm glad someone was willing to come here."

The last visitor... well, that was 237 years ago.

Eve approached cautiously: "Mr. Norman, do you... know where you are?"

“Of course I know,” Norman said, putting his glasses back on and chuckling to himself.

“I am in my library—to be precise, in cell number seventeen of the ‘Paradise’ prison, in a false dream disguised as a library.”

This answer stunned Eve.

"You...you know these are all fake?"

“Fake?” Norman chuckled. “Define the word ‘fake,’ young man.”

He stood up and reached out to brush his hand across the nearest row of bookshelves:
“These books are not made of real matter; they are illusions woven together by my mental power and the maintenance system of this cell.”

“But…” he turned around:
"When I open them, I can read the contents."

When I study them, I gain knowledge, and they function perfectly within my understanding.

"Then tell me, for me, who is permanently imprisoned here, what is the difference between them and 'real' books?"

Eve was stumped by the question.

Norman walked back to the reading table and sat down gracefully.
"Let me guess, you're here to 'heal' me?"
A kind-hearted young girl, deliberately placed here, wants to use gentle words to bring this poor, insane man back to his senses?

His tone carried a hint of sarcasm, but no malice; it was more like a helpless self-deprecation.

“I…” Eve didn’t know how to answer.

"Don't be nervous, I won't hurt you." Norman sighed.
"I just want to tell you a fact—I'm not crazy. Never have been."

“But…” Eve looked around, “People outside say you’re suffering from mental pollution…”

“Mental pollution?” Norman interrupted her, his voice carrying a distinct emotion for the first time:
"That's a convenient excuse, isn't it?"

He stood up and began pacing around the library:

Let me tell you a story.

Eight hundred and twenty-three years ago, I was the chief scholar of the Central Land History Research Association.

My expertise lies in studying the patterns of power transitions across different eras.

"One day, I discovered something... that wasn't right."

He stopped and looked at Eve:

"do you know?
The historical record system we use today was established at the end of the Second Age by Saint Salcardo, the King of Records.

In theory, it should be able to preserve all history completely and objectively.

"But I discovered that at certain key historical junctures, there are... gaps in the records."

"It wasn't lost or damaged, but rather deliberately and precisely deleted."

Eve felt a chill run down her spine: "What did you find?"

"I have discovered that every epochal change is accompanied by a large-scale rewriting of history."

Norman's voice deepened:
“Those voices that question the new order, and those documents that record the truth of ‘discord,’ will disappear in a short time.”

"Then, a new 'standard history' will be written into everyone's memory."

"And those who refuse to accept the new history..."

He smiled wryly and pointed around:
“They will be sent here, diagnosed with ‘mental pollution,’ and imprisoned in a ‘paradise’ designed specifically for them.”

"I questioned the system."

I wrote a paper detailing the contradictions I discovered.

Norman sat down again:

"As a result, three days later, the Historical Research Association sent someone to 'check' my mental state."

“They said that I had come into contact with too many chaotic fragments of history during my research, which led to mental pollution and required ‘treatment’.”

"Then, I was sent here."

"The 'treatment' here is very simple—they built me ​​a perfect library with all the knowledge I wanted."

His voice turned sarcastic:

"However, this knowledge has been 'corrected,' all contradictions have been smoothed out, and all disharmony has been deleted."

“They wanted me to accept this ‘perfect’ history and abandon those ‘dangerous’ questions.”

“But…” Norman took off his glasses, revealing a tired look in his eyes: “I refused.”

"So for over eight hundred years, I have been here, reading these false books and maintaining this absurd game."

"Because I know that once I accept this 'paradise,' once I admit that I am indeed crazy, then I have truly lost."

Eve felt a tightness in her throat and could barely speak.

“Mr. Norman…” she began with difficulty:
"Isn't there any way...?"

"A solution?" Norman put his glasses back on, a hint of sadness flashing in his eyes.

"The solution is to admit that I was wrong, to admit that those contradictions were my illusions, and to admit that the historical record system is perfect."

“As long as I do this, they will ‘cure’ me and then let me out.”

"But if that's the case..."

His voice became firm:

"I've really gone crazy."

Because I will lose the ability to distinguish truth from falsehood, become part of this system, and spend the rest of my life spreading those distorted 'truths'.

"So I chose to stay here."

"At least in this fake library, I can still remember what's real."

A long silence fell over the room.

Eve felt a deep sense of powerlessness.

She came here wanting to "cure" him, but now she realizes that it's not Norman who really needs healing, but the entire system.

But what can she do?

She was just a formally appointed wizard, but she was facing a power structure that had lasted for countless years.

“Mr. Norman…” she finally began:
"I can't change this system, I don't even know what to say..."

“You don’t need to say anything.” Norman’s tone returned to its usual calm.

"You just need to remember, remember there's a man here named Norman Davenport. He's not crazy, he just refuses to forget."

“Perhaps…” he looked at the fake books:
"Perhaps in an absurd world, persisting in a useless truth is itself the greatest form of resistance."

Eve suddenly understood.

She walked up to Norman and solemnly performed a wizard's salute:

“Mr. Norman Davenport, I will remember your name and your story.”

"I can't promise to change anything, but I can promise..."

"At least one person will know that you are not crazy."

Norman's eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

"Thank you, child." His voice trembled.
"You have no idea how important those words are to me."

"In this perfectly designed cage, the most terrifying thing is not falsehood, but that no one believes you are telling the truth."

"Now, at least one person believes it."

"This is enough."

Eve felt a warmth in her chest.

She did not "cure" Norman, nor did she alleviate his suffering.

But she did something even more important—she witnessed his truth.

Before turning to leave, she looked back one last time.

Norman sat back down at the reading table and opened a fake book.

But this time, his silhouette no longer seemed so lonely.

Because at least one person will remember the truth about him.

The crystal door slowly closed behind them.

When Eve walked out of the first cell, she found her legs trembling slightly.

The feeling was as if I had just experienced a battle on a spiritual level.

You must fully immerse yourself in the task, to understand and empathize, while simultaneously maintaining a clear head.

Hector remained seated in the wooden chair, the bells jingling softly.
"The first one is Norman Davenport."

Once hailed as the 'Crown of Knowledge,' a peak Dark Sun-level wizard in the early Fourth Era, he was only one step away from becoming a Grand Wizard.

"In his pursuit of 'truth,' he connected with a consciousness outside the realm that called itself the 'Akasha Record.'"

His voice suddenly turned cold:

"At least, that's what the official records say."

"Actually?"

Hector stood up, and the bells rang shrilly.

"He was a student of a top wizard, and while assisting his teacher in compiling the 'true history of the Second Age,' he discovered some things that he shouldn't have discovered."

His voice was laced with sarcasm:

"'Akasha records pollution' is just a clever excuse."

"In fact, it was his teacher who personally implanted 'compulsive cognitive confusion' into his soul."

"To ensure that he can never distinguish between truth and falsehood, and can never convey any effective information to the outside world."

"Then, they threw him into 'paradise,' under the guise of 'protecting him.'"

These words were like a bucket of ice water poured over Eve's head.

Her body froze.

"You mean..."

Her voice trembled:

"Mr. Norman, he doesn't have any symptoms related to 'contamination' at all?"

"No, he was indeed contaminated, he went mad."

Hector's smile twisted:

"But he was driven mad."

Do you know the difference between going crazy and "accidentally"?

"The former can be cured."

"The latter can never be restored."

"His teacher, however, chose the latter."

Eve felt nauseous.

She remembered Norman's eyes, filled with confusion and pain, just now.

This scholar, who insists on the truth of history, can only spend the rest of his life amidst endless confusion between truth and falsehood.

"Why……"

She clenched her fists: "Why not just kill him?"

"Because we cannot kill them."

Hector's voice turned mocking:

"He is the personal disciple of that top wizard, and countless people have witnessed this relationship."

"If he suddenly dies, it will raise questions."

"But if he goes 'crazy,' he'll be sent to 'Paradise' for protection..."

"That's a teacher's compassion for their students, isn't it?"

He sat back down on the wooden chair:

"This is the true meaning of the existence of 'paradise'."

"It's not about protecting the world from madmen."

"Instead, it's about ensuring that those who 'know too much' are never able to speak."

"At the same time, it can maintain the illusion of 'benevolence'."

"What a perfect design, isn't it?"

Eve's worldview began to crumble at this moment.

She remembered what Professor Utter had once said:
"This world is far more complex and more... cruel than you can imagine."

She didn't understand then. Now she does.

"The second one."

Hector pointed to another door, his voice devoid of any warmth:
"Go ahead. This time, you'll see something even more 'wonderful'."

(End of this chapter)