Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 596 I existed, I fought, I loved...

Ron’s “premonition of crisis” was issued again, but this time, the warning was just as distorted, broken, and upside down.

He could "see" his head being pierced by claws, feel the excruciating pain that was yet to come, and even foresee the blood splattering when his body fell to the ground after he died.

But are these "predictions" the real future, or just illusions woven by the vortex region?
"Stop thinking."

He told himself that.

In the face of chaos, logic is a shackle, and rationality is poison.

Those who try to understand chaos through order will ultimately be strangled by the causal chains they themselves construct.

He activated the Chaos Adaptation trait he had acquired from Nari.

In an instant, the chaotic energy that had been causing dizziness around them began to feel...friendly.

Just as parched land meets sweet rain, withered plants feel the spring breeze.

Those distorted spacetime vortices are no longer a threat, but rather a kind of "language" that can be interpreted.

He stopped trying to predict when the attack would come and began to let his body adapt to the chaotic rhythm.

The mutant's claws missed their mark.

To be precise, it hit the spot where Ron's "past" was.

In this space of disordered time, the boundary between "past" and "present" is as blurred as fog.

When the claws actually landed, Ron was already standing at the coordinates three seconds later.

"This is a sight never before seen by the outside world..."

Ron's pupils reflected the rotting corpse of the mutant.

Just a few meters away, the body still lay on the ground, blood gushing out; death had already arrived.

The creature attacking him now is the same one, only it belongs to the timeline where he is "not yet dead".

Both states exist simultaneously.

Death and life, end and beginning, intertwine in the vortex, like the two sides of a Möbius strip.

"This is the truth of the seventh level..."

Ron suddenly understood the deeper meaning behind the assistant examiner's warning.

Here, time is not a river; it does not flow from the past to the future.

Time is more like a crumpled piece of paper, with all moments squeezed together, overlapping, penetrating, and entangled with each other.

What he needs to do now is not to simply "predict" the future, but rather to "observe" the results that have already occurred.

This is Hector, the king of absurdity, who once inspired his "reverse thinking" in the treasure vault:
When cause and effect are reversed, when the chain of logic is broken, only absurdity itself is the key to the truth.

Ron closed his eyes.

He is using "chaotic adaptation" to sense the traces left by all the "already happened" events in this space.

Those traces, like invisible threads, weave a vast net in space.

Each thread represents a certain "result," and by tracing back along these threads, one can find the "cause" that led to them.

He "saw" it.

About two kilometers to the northeast, a dimensional beacon is quietly suspended.

The spacetime around it is extremely chaotic, with countless timelines converging and intertwining there, forming a miniature vortex of cause and effect.

In addition, he also "saw" another scene:
I will successfully obtain the beacon within a day.

That image was so clear:

The moment he reached out and touched the beacon, the chaotic energy around him suddenly subsided, and the teleportation array activated, taking him away from this deadly vortex area.

"Now that I've already seen the 'result'..."

Ron opened his eyes, already confident:
"What I need to do now is to follow this predetermined path and head towards that inevitable destination."

This is "reverse prediction," which involves observing the future as it has already happened and then having your present self "reenact" that history.

He stepped forward.

The mutant pounced again, this time with even greater ferocity, its claws creating three intersecting wind blades that traced patterns in the air.

Ron didn't even look at it; he simply moved his feet precisely according to the scene he "saw."

Three steps, five steps, seven steps...

Every step was on a chaotic rhythm, and every dodge was just enough to avoid a fatal attack.

His movements were so fluid that they didn't seem like he was fighting; they were more like he was performing a pre-choreographed dance.

The mutant's claws missed again.

This time it roared angrily, its muscles began to swell, and countless sharp spines pierced out from its body, like a furious hedgehog.

Those spikes gleamed with a poisonous sheen; even a slight scratch would likely render someone incapable of fighting.

But Ron didn't even adjust his route for it.

Because in the future he "saw" that had "already happened," this mutant did not appear in his path at all.

It will suddenly disappear at some point, just as inexplicably as it suddenly appeared.

as predicted.

When Ron was less than three meters away from the mutant, the surrounding space suddenly distorted.

The enormous monster, along with all the spikes it had shot out, vanished into thin air as if it had never existed.

Instead, there was an eerily quiet emptiness.

Ron continued on his way.

Along the way, he encountered even more absurd sights:
A building rose up before his eyes and then quickly collapsed into ruins in less than three seconds.
A ball of flame burns in mid-air, but it has no fuel and doesn't even release heat;
There was also a winding crack from which black mist surged forth. The mist condensed into a human figure, making a painful, struggling gesture, before dissipating back into mist...

All of these are products of spacetime chaos.

They are neither illusions nor real; they are merely "possibilities" that lie between existence and non-existence.

In this vortex region, all possible events will manifest in some incomplete form.

Ron ignored all of this.

He focused solely on the path leading to the "known outcome," following that unseen thread, approaching his goal step by step.

When he finally arrived at that coordinate, the scene before him made him pause for a moment.

The dimension beacon is indeed here.

But below the beacon, there was another person lying down.

To be precise, it was a corpse.

It was the remains of a wizard; his robes were long since decayed and tattered, revealing the pale bones beneath.

He remained in the position of reaching out to touch the beacon, his fingers less than ten centimeters from the crystal, yet he could never reach it.

Judging from the degree of decay, the body has been here for at least several decades.

"He failed."

Ron immediately understood the story of the corpse:

The wizard also found the beacon's location, but when he tried to take it, he got trapped in a time loop.

He kept repeating the action of "reaching out to touch" day after day, year after year, until his life was exhausted and he turned into bones.

"trap……"

Ron scanned his surroundings warily but found no obvious threat.

The beacon still hovered silently, emitting an alluring light, as if saying:
"Come on, take me away."

But he cannot act rashly.

"Acelia, what do you think?"

He asked the Dragon Soul in his consciousness.

"Tsk, be careful."

Azalea's tone was unusually serious:
"The spatial fluctuations here are very strange."

There is a hidden time anchor point around the corpse.

Anyone who touches that area will be locked in place at a specific moment, unable to move forward or backward.

"Time anchor point, this is what's called the highest level of difficulty..."

Ron frowned in thought.

This trap is extremely dangerous because it won't kill you immediately, it just puts you "on hold".

In this region of chaotic timelines, "stagnation" itself means death.

Time continues to flow around you, but you are stuck in one place, only able to watch helplessly as your body decays with the passage of time.

"But in the future I 'saw,' I successfully obtained the beacon..."

Ron muttered to himself:
"This means there must be some way to bypass this trap."

He closed his eyes and reactivated [Chaos Adaptation] to perceive how he had managed to do it in that "already happened" future.

Those distorted threads of spacetime became clear in his perception.

He "saw" it.

In that future scene, he didn't obtain the beacon by simply reaching out and grabbing it...

"I see."

Ron opened his eyes, as if he had realized something.

He didn't move any closer to the beacon; instead, he took a few steps back.

Then, he took out a small bottle of "soothing incense" that Nari had given him from his bosom. (See Chapter 497)
The pale gold powder shimmered slightly in the crystal bottle, emitting a gentle glow.

Ron opened the bottle and sprinkled a little powder into the air.

The powder did not fall to the ground; it hovered in mid-air, drifting slowly until it finally came to rest in a specific location.

That is precisely the boundary of the time anchor point.

"really……"

He looked at the outline drawn by the powder, an irregular spherical area that enveloped the corpse and the beacon.

Once you step into this area, you will be captured by the time anchor.

Ron took a deep breath and began constructing the spell circuit.

——Zero Ring·Mage's Hand

This is the most basic object manipulation spell, and it is distorted in this context as well.

He raised his right hand and aimed it at the gap at the top of the spherical area.

Magic power surges.

The next moment, his right arm suddenly disappeared, as if it had been swallowed up by some invisible force.

In reality, the arm had already passed through the spatial folds and extended into the interior of the time anchor point through that tiny gap.

He could sense the beacon's presence; the crystal was just a short distance from his fingertips.

A little further ahead...

Ron's fingers finally touched that cold, smooth surface.

The next moment, the dimensional beacon burst into a dazzling light!

The surrounding spacetime vortex seemed to be stunned by the light, and briefly calmed down.

Countless runes emerged from the sky, swirling and intertwining around him, eventually forming a dazzling cocoon of light that enveloped his entire body.

"Phase one, completed."

Before his consciousness was completely swallowed up by the teleportation array, Ron glanced at the corpse.

Under the dazzling light, the skeleton slowly turned into dust and drifted away with the wind.

Perhaps, this corpse never existed in the first place; it was merely a warning of the terrible consequences of failure...

………………

After an unknown amount of time, Ron's feet touched solid ground once again.

He opened his eyes and found himself in a very strange place.

Here... there is no sky.

Or rather, there is a sky, but that "sky" presents an eerie, pale white color.

Like a bleached canvas, there are no clouds, no sun, no stars, only that eternal, dazzling, and unsettling white.

Ron looked around and found himself standing on a vast, boundless wasteland.

He looked at the familiar scene and felt slightly displeased.

The King of Absurdity is indeed a despicable guy who always likes to find fault with others.

The setting of this scene is clearly inspired by a farewell in the snowy plains that I have always felt guilty about.

However, compared to the gray, white wilderness that made me shiver with cold at the time...
In the center of the wasteland stood a giant tower.

That tower...

Ron stared at it, recalling the first prophetic image the blind girl had made for herself:

Under the all-pervasive white light, the giant tower cast no shadow.

"Welcome, Ron Ralph, the trial participant, to the core trial of the first stage."

A mechanical and cold voice suddenly rang in my ears:
"Assessment criteria: Survive in this space for seven days."

"Rules: None."

"Tip: Please cherish your 'existence'."

The sound disappeared, and the surroundings fell silent once more.

Ron stood still and began to carefully perceive the characteristics of this space.

Magic concentration...normal.

Air composition...normal.

Gravity...normal.

On the surface, this space appears to be without any abnormalities, and could even be described as quite "safe":
There are no monster attacks, no environmental disasters, and no deadly traps.

But the alarm bells in his heart rang louder and louder.

"The safest place is often the most dangerous..."

Ron decided to conduct a simple test first.

He raised his hand and used magic to inscribe a simple rune on the ground.

This is the most basic "marking spell," a spell that wizards often use to mark waypoints.

The runes shimmered with a faint blue light as he infused them with his magic, clearly imprinted on the pale ground.

Ron stared at it for a few seconds, then turned and walked toward the giant tower.

After walking about ten meters, he turned back to check if the rune was still there.

It's gone.

The ground remained a pure, pale white, without any trace, as if he had never carved anything there.

Ron's pupils suddenly contracted.

He then conducted a second test.

This time, he kicked a small hole in the ground with his foot, then quickly retreated, staring intently at the hole.

He witnessed firsthand how the pit "healed" at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye.

It's like there's an invisible hand holding an eraser, wiping it out of reality.

"This space..."

Ron's ominous premonition grew stronger:
"It is 'erasing' all traces."

“All the ‘changes’ will be erased by this space…”

Ron's mind raced, recalling the mechanical voice's prompt:
"Please cherish your 'existence'."

He took a deep breath and kept checking the flow of magic within his body, the clarity of his consciousness, and the integrity of his memories... So far, everything was normal.

But he knew it was only temporary.

"Seven days..."

Ron looked at the Shadowless Tower:
“I must find a way to combat this ‘erasure’ within seven days, otherwise…”

Otherwise, he himself would end up like those marks.

Completely erased from this space, vanished from reality, as if they had never existed.

Ron began to approach the giant tower.

With every step he took, he felt an indescribable sense of oppression.

This tower is like a giant black hole, swallowing up the very concept of "presence".

When he was about a hundred meters away from the tower, Ron suddenly stopped.

Because he noticed a detail...

At the base of the tower, there is an inscription.

Those characters are not any known language, yet they can be directly understood by consciousness:
"I am the only one, I am eternal, there is nothing else outside of me."

Ron stared at the words, a chill running through him.

"Unique", "Eternal", "Nothing else but me"...

These three words form a closed logical loop.

"This is the essence of this space..."

"It didn't 'attack' me; it just followed its own 'narrative logic' and excluded everything that didn't fit that logic."

"As an 'outsider,' I am naturally the biggest 'contradiction.'"

He stood there for a long time, thinking about how to deal with the situation.

Use conventional spells to attack?

Useless.

Any attempt to damage the tower will be considered a "non-existent event" and erased.

Using magic to construct runes to forcibly stabilize space?

Even less useful.

The tower itself represents a kind of "absolute," and one's current level of strength makes it impossible to forcibly alter its rules.

So……

Ron's thoughts drifted in another direction.

"Since this tower has its own 'narrative'..."

A glint flashed in Ron's eyes:
"Then perhaps I can try to 'talk' to it."

He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and activated [The Interpretation of All Things].

In an instant, the world around him changed in his perception.

That giant tower, its "story" is so simple, yet so domineering:
"I am the only one."

"I am eternity."

"There is nothing else besides me."

These three sentences constitute the entire meaning of its existence.

But these three sentences are also its shackles.

Because its narrative is so closed, it cannot accommodate any other "story".

It's like a computer that can only run a single program; when you try to install other software on it, it will only give errors, freeze, or crash.

"So……"

Ron took a deep breath and made a bold decision:
What would happen if I proactively 'told' it my story?

Without hesitation, he placed his palm on the ground, and magic flowed slowly.

But this time, the magic wasn't used to construct spells; it was simply used to transmit "information":
Information about himself, about the stories he has experienced, about all the memories, emotions, and experiences that constitute the existence of "Ron Ralph".

"I existed."

He silently recited in his heart:
"I have fought."

"I have loved."

Three simple sentences, yet they carry immense weight.

Those memories surged forth like a tide:

Entering the herbal medicine shop and encountering Mrs. Allen, the ascetic training in the Black Mist Forest, meeting Nari in the abyss, being taught by Professor Yutel, the deal with the King of Absurdity...

All of these are his "stories".

And these stories began to collide with the narrative of the tower.

The first day passed peacefully.

Ron sat at the foot of the tower, continuously “telling” his story to it.

He could sense that the tower's "narrative" was trying to "absorb" this information.

But that process was extremely slow, like trying to move a mountain with chopsticks.

the next day.

When he woke up, he discovered an extremely terrifying change...

He began to forget some unimportant memories.

For example, the name of an insignificant classmate, what he ate for a casual dinner, or which page of which book he read in the library on an ordinary afternoon...

These trivial, meaningless fragments of memory are being peeled away from his consciousness and disappearing, like pencil marks being erased by an eraser.

"here we go……"

Ron felt a chill run down his spine.

This is exactly what he is most worried about.

This tower is not only erasing the physical traces he left behind, but also beginning to erase his "existence" itself.

Memory is one of the core elements that constitute "existence".

When a person loses all their memories, are they still "him"?

Ron dared not slack off and immediately intensified his "narration".

He began to selectively output his memories.

He discarded all those trivial daily routines and selected the truly important experiences that had shaped him.

The most important thing is...

He began to “tell” those memories associated with high-ranking individuals.

“I have encountered Nari—a born embodiment of chaos, the lord of the fifth layer of the abyss; her very existence is a mockery of order…”

When this memory was output, Ron could clearly feel a slight fluctuation in the tower's "narrative".

It's a feeling similar to "lag," like a brief delay when a computer is processing a task beyond its capabilities.

"efficient."

Ron was overjoyed and immediately continued:
"I studied history and astrology under Professor Utter—the former master of the Crystal Spire, a principal founder of the lineage of this era, whose knowledge was awe-inspiring..."

Another fluctuation.

This fluctuation was more pronounced; Ron could even "hear" something like "noise" coming from the Tower's narrative.

“I once met Saint Hephaestus, the first disciple of the ‘Creator’ and the Perfect King—as one of the oldest existing witch kings, every glance of His contained the power to change the world…”

“I have studied the legacy left by Erica, the strongest genius of the Second Era, the ‘Clock King’—she was a legendary figure, possessing the rank of a top-tier archmage and the combat power comparable to a wizard king…”

"I made a pact with Hector, the King of Absurdity—He opened his treasure trove to me, taught me the philosophy of absurdity, and is one of the most powerful ruling wizards of this era..."

"I am noticed by the King of Records—His quill records all things, and his pages carry endless knowledge..."

The names of high-ranking individuals and their related experiences are like heavy hammer blows striking the giant tower.

Ron could sense that the tower's "narrative" was starting to become chaotic.

Each memory of a high-ranking individual contains an enormous amount of information, and each represents a complete and complex story.

The tower attempts to "absorb" these stories, incorporating them into its own "unique" and "eternal" narrative framework.

This is like trying to run a program that requires hundreds of gigabytes of space on a computer with only a few megabytes of memory—the system crashes immediately.

Day three.

The giant tower began to tremble.

Each high-ranking individual represents a complete worldview, a self-consistent logical system, and a unique mode of existence.

The tower's "single" narrative cannot contain these things.

It attempted to classify Nari as "chaos," only to find that chaos itself negates "uniqueness."
It attempted to categorize the King of Absurdity as "absurd," only to discover that the essence of absurdity is breaking all definitions;
It attempted to categorize the King of Records as "history," only to discover that history itself proved the claim that "there is nothing else but me" was a lie...

The narrative of the tower has fallen into a vicious cycle.

Fourth day.

Those cracks began to spread.

From the base of the tower to its unseen top, the dense, spiderweb-like structure covers the entire giant tower.

Ron was still "telling the story," but he no longer needed to exert as much effort.

Because the tower's "absorption" ability has almost stopped.

It's like a computer that's crashed due to overload.

All the "processes" are stuck there, unable to continue or be terminated.

………………

With a few moments left, Ron stood before the giant tower, awaiting the final outcome.

A door has appeared at the base of the tower.

That door was made entirely of "shadows".

In this shadowless space, the shadow gate appeared particularly glaring, particularly abrupt, particularly...real.

"Since the tower has no shadow..."

A realization flashed in Ron's eyes:

"That shadow is the only 'outlier'."

"'Outliers' are the way out."

He stepped forward, toward the shadow door.

When his hand touched the cold, unreal door, a familiar dizziness washed over him.

Teleportation array activated.

The surrounding scenery began to distort and dissipate, and the collapsing giant tower gradually receded into the distance, eventually disappearing from sight.

Ron closed his eyes, letting the teleportation power carry him to the next location.

Meanwhile, in the gaps between dimensions.

Hector, the king of absurdity, is lying on a deck chair, holding a bucket of "popcorn" that shimmers with a strange light.

Before him floated a huge screen, displaying Ron's every move in the Tower of Shadows.

"Ha ha ha ha……"

When Hector saw Ron begin to "output" that long list of high-ranking individuals' names to the tower, Hector couldn't help but burst into laughter:

"This kid! He's truly inherited my skills!"

"What true teachings? You clearly never taught him any of these things."

A helpless voice came from the side.

That is the king of records.

He was still wearing that greyish-white robe, his face hidden by a hood.

Only the quill pen in his hand, shimmering with silver light, continued to write something in the air.

The King of Records was organizing materials in his library when Hector forcibly dragged him into this dimensional rift, ostensibly to "enjoy a wonderful performance together."

"It's nothing! It's all nothing!"

Hector waved his hand dismissively and said:

"Although I didn't teach him specific methods, I inspired his 'absurd thinking'!"
This approach perfectly embodies absurd thinking—using even greater absurdity to combat existing absurdity!

"Look, look!"

He pointed excitedly at the curtain:

"The narrative of that tower is 'unique,' which is absurd in itself."

Ron's solution was to bombard it with an even more absurd force, crashing it completely! Isn't that absurdist philosophy?

The King of Records silently watched the curtain, his quill pen tracing lines of shimmering text in the air:
[Observation Record: Ron Ralph, First Stage of the Golden Ring Assessment]

Performance Rating: Excellent

[One noteworthy point: This examiner's contact with those of higher rank far exceeds the level of those of the same rank and even some of the great wizards.]

"Tsk tsk, you old-fashioned person, all you know is how to keep records."

Hector curled his lip:
"Don't you think this kid is really interesting?"

When faced with this situation, most people would think of either enduring it head-on or trying to destroy the tower.

But what did he do? He simply used 'overload' to make the tower collapse on its own!

"Indeed...very clever."

The King of Records rarely admits anything:
"Moreover, his understanding of 'narrative' has reached a fairly high level."

The fact that he recognized the tower's essence as 'narrative,' rather than a simple structure or magic circle, demonstrates that his cognitive level had reached the 'conceptual' level.

"of course!"

Hector smiled smugly:

"How could the person I chose be mediocre?"

"but……"

The King of Records' tone turned serious:
"Are you really going to lead him down 'that path'?"

The words "that road" sounded particularly heavy in His mouth.

Hector's smile faded slightly, and his eyes deepened:

"All I gave him was a 'choice.' As for which path he chooses, that's his own decision."

"But in any case..."

He looked at the image in the curtain, showing Ron about to step into the Shadow Gate:
"He must become stronger, strong enough to withstand the coming storm."

The King of Records sighed:

"I have recorded the rise and fall of countless eras. With each restart, countless beings are annihilated. This time will probably be no exception."

"so……"

Hector's voice lightened, as if the seriousness of the moment before had been an illusion:
"I want to cultivate some 'interesting' people!"
If that day really comes, at least there will be some fun, so it won't be too boring!

The King of Records didn't reply, but continued writing with his quill pen.

Those shimmering words contain all the evaluations, all the observations, all the...expectations about Ron Ralph.

[Note: This candidate deserves continued attention.]

If the performance continues, appropriate support may be considered.

Supported content: To be determined

In the curtain, Ron's figure disappeared into the shadow gate.

First hurdle, passed perfectly.

(End of this chapter)