Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

The fifth layer of the abyss, deep within the heart of chaos.

Ron sat in the center of the meditation room that Nari had meticulously crafted, surrounded by semi-solid magic that emitted a faint glow.

Ten times the compression.

This number is already the absolute pinnacle for most Moon-level wizards.

Now it is etched deep in his soul, and with each flow of magic, one can feel that profound, almost "semi-material" texture.

However, Ron felt like a craftsman who had collected all the best materials but didn't know how to begin.

"Composite spell circuit..."

He pondered this concept repeatedly in his mind.

The three spell nodes are arranged in an equilateral triangle, forming a stable resonance through the cyclical flow of energy.

The problem lies precisely in the word "stability".

The three forces within him are: the profound starlight from "The Star Eater's Whispers", the raging thunder and fire from the Thunderfire Tyrant, and the bizarre transformations brought by the Chaos Ram Head.

"If we force a circuit to be constructed..."

Ron closed his eyes and simulated the process in his mind.

Driven by his will, three magical forces began to attempt to construct the simplest triangular circuit, with starlight occupying the apex and lightning and chaos on either side.

At first, things went smoothly; the magic flowed along the pre-set trajectory, transferring, amplifying, and feeding back between the three nodes...

But it only lasted for three seconds before the entire circuit started to vibrate violently!
"boom!"

The simulated circuit exploded into countless points of light in Ron's mind, and the backlash caused cold sweat to bead on his forehead.

He suddenly opened his eyes, feeling a sharp pain in his temples.

"really……"

He shook his head:

"If you only have materials and processes but lack a 'design blueprint,' you'll just end up with a bunch of unformable parts."

The problem of advanced radiation fields is equally challenging.

His radiation field has been "activated," and under the influence of absurd crystallization, it has acquired life-like characteristics, enabling it to instinctively adapt to the environment, absorb energy, and even engage in some degree of "thinking."

However, the next step of "structuring" got stuck.

The so-called structuring is to transform the originally disordered and diffused energy field into a complex system with clear functional divisions.

The defense layer, the perception layer, and the energy circulation layer each have their own responsibilities and cooperate with each other through precise "interfaces".

This sounds like building an invisible structure in the void.

Ron had neither blueprints nor any information on what kind of "building materials" to use, nor did he know where the foundation of the building should be laid.

“Empty skeleton…”

He murmured the word, feeling the weight it carried.

It is not merely a symbol of power, but more like a tangible crystallization of a wizard's will, knowledge, and experience; it is the condensation of abstract "self-cognition" into a semi-real, ultimate creation.

Professor Utter's anatomical remains are an eternally functioning "eye of observation," symbolizing his endless pursuit of knowledge.

Neytil's ethereal form is an inextinguishable "rage," representing her obsession with destruction and rebirth.

Salamanda's skeleton is a walking "furnace colossus," reflecting his simple belief in transforming from a craftsman to a master.

"Then what should my ethereal body look like?"

The question echoed in Ron's mind, but he could not find any answer.

After thinking for a while, he stood up and walked towards the book "The Complete Explanation of the Extraordinary" that was quietly floating in the corner of the meditation room.

The giant eye on the cover sensed his approach and slowly opened, its pupils reflecting Ron's bewildered face.

"I'm in trouble."

Ron got straight to the point:
"I've achieved a tenfold compression, but I find myself completely clueless about what to do next."

“Composite spell circuits require logic, but my three forces are inherently contradictory, and any logical framework will collapse in the conflict.”

“Advanced radiation fields require structure, but I can’t even complete the most basic ‘layering’ because I have no idea what function each layer should have or how they should be connected.”

"And the ultimate end of these two—the ethereal body—I can't even imagine what its 'form' should be."

His tone carried a hint of frustration:

"I feel like I'm standing at the entrance to a maze, holding the best equipment, but I can't find the door at all."

The giant eye of "The Complete Guide to the Extraordinary" blinked.

The pages of the book turned on their own without any wind, opening to a particular chapter.

A cross-section of a theater is clearly visible in the design:
The stage, audience seating, backstage, and mechanical devices are all marked with lines of different colors, connecting to each other yet remaining independent.

"Do you remember the 'Dream Theater' theory I told you about before?"

The voice of the books echoed in Ron's mind, carrying a kind of patient, persuasive quality:

"The Void is by no means a simple power container, nor is it merely a functional magical construct."

It should be the architectural expression of your consciousness, a projection of your worldview, values, and aesthetics into reality.

"Your problem right now is..."

As the pages turn, the illustrations begin to move dynamically:
"You're thinking about the 'building' process too mechanically."

You thought you had to first build the foundation (the void), then install the circuitry (circuit) and load-bearing walls (fields), and finally arrange the furniture (spells), and then you'd be all done.

"But the reality is quite the opposite."

The theater in the design suddenly disintegrates, turning into countless floating components.

Then, these components begin to recombine according to some unseen "will".

The stage's mechanisms and the audience seating's acoustics were designed in tandem, while the backstage's magical circuitry and the frontstage's display space were integrated into a single structure...

“Foundation, circuitry, load-bearing walls, furniture—they must be different parts of the same design, conceived as a ‘whole’ and designed as a ‘system’ from the very beginning.”

"What you lack is neither skill nor materials."

The book's tone became serious:
"What you're missing is the 'blueprint' itself."

"A 'core concept' that can unify all your strengths, all your ideas, and all your experiences."

Ron remained silent.

He knew the books were right, but the problem was:

Where can I find this 'blueprint'?

“I’ve tried looking back at my growth trajectory, summarizing my combat experience, and even seeking inspiration from history and astrology…”

“But each time, I can only see some ‘fragments’.”

"These fragments are independent of each other, and even contradict each other."

I don't know what kind of 'theme' to use to string them together into a complete story.

The giant eye of "The Complete Guide to the Extraordinary" blinked again.

"So……"

The tone of the book becomes meaningful:
"Instead of letting you grope in the dark, let me open a 'window' for you."

"Let's go see a 'play'."

"A real drama about 'logic' and 'field' is unfolding."

As soon as the words were spoken, the giant eye on the cover suddenly enlarged, and a vortex-like suction force emerged from the depths of its pupil.

Before Ron could react, his consciousness was pulled away by this force, detached from his body, and traversed countless layers of dimensions...

When his "vision" cleared again, he found himself looking down at a completely unfamiliar yet strangely familiar scene from a third-person perspective.

It was a library.

What he saw was the scene observed through the "eyes" of Hector, the king of absurdity.

………………

The Central Land, the seventh floor of the Advanced Knowledge Library.

If this thirteen-story building is an inverted book, then the seventh floor is the chapter closest to the "spine".

This place houses historical and taboo documents, knowledge that has been removed from public view because it was too sensitive, too dangerous, or too "inappropriate."

The bookshelves are arranged like a maze, with each row labeled with strict category numbers:
The Third Era War Archives, Records of Forbidden Alchemy Experiments, Archives of Heretical Doctrines, Final Report on Missing Persons...

Working in such an environment requires more than just academic knowledge.

What is needed is an almost pathological "worship of order".

Trust the system, follow the rules, and treat any "exceptions" as errors that must be corrected.

Lisa is the perfect embodiment of this kind of person.

The female administrator, who looked to be around fifty years old, was wearing a spotless dark blue uniform.

Her silver hair was meticulously combed into a bun, with not a single stray hair allowed to escape.

On her desk, all items were arranged precisely according to "frequency of use" and "importance".

The distance between the quill pen and the ink bottle is 7.3 centimeters, and the folder is placed at an angle that is perfectly parallel to the edge of the table;
Even the tea that is always kept at the perfect temperature has a special alchemical heating pad with an error of no more than 0.5 degrees.

At this moment, she was carefully reviewing an "errata report" with a magnifying glass, her brows slightly furrowed and her lips pressed into a serious line.

"Report No. #97: Page 203 of the Ancient Potions Compendium, regarding the distillation temperature of 'Moonlight Dew,' the original text states '98 to 102 degrees';
It is suggested to revise it to '99 to 101 degrees', because according to the experimental standards of the Fourth Age, the temperature range should be controlled within ±1 degree..."

She drew a large checkmark on the report with a red pen, and then wrote in the remarks column:

"The correction is reasonable and has been synchronized to the central indexing system."

Submitted by: Northumbria Davenport. Work attitude: Excellent.

Lisa put down her pen, looked up at the figure tidying up the bookshelf not far away, and a look of satisfaction appeared in her eyes.

Northumberland.

This new librarian has submitted 97 errata reports in the past few years, each one incredibly precise:
It wasn't a sensational "major discovery," but rather some trivial, easily overlooked, but genuinely needing correction.

Spelling, punctuation, temperature, dosage, date...

He was like a tireless precision instrument, searching for those "imperfections" in a vast sea of ​​documents with an almost pious attitude.

"Mr. Davenport is a rare talent."

Lisa's internal assessment:
"Diligent, humble, and with that... reverence for the 'system'."

"Especially considering his family background."

She remembered that name—Norman Davenport, the “Crown of Knowledge” from eight hundred years ago, the legendary scholar who was sent to “Paradise” because of spiritual pollution.

"It is truly not easy to choose the path of knowledge under such shadows and maintain such a normal mindset."

She decided to give Norson an "excellent" rating in the next performance review.

At this moment, the "diligent administrator" on whom high hopes were placed was standing in front of the bookshelves, mechanically and attentively putting the books back in their numbers.

Norsen pushed up his round-framed glasses, the light reflected from the lenses just enough to obscure the fleeting, profound emotion in his eyes.

His actions perfectly fit the image of a "nerd".

Carefully pick up the book, carefully check the number on the spine to make sure it matches the label on the bookshelf, and then gently put it down. Then use your fingertips to adjust the position of the book so that it forms a straight line with the adjacent books.

But if someone could see into his heart at that moment, they would find that there was no reverence for the "perfect system" there at all.

There is only a cold, almost cruel rationality, and an obsession that has burned for eight hundred years hidden beneath that rationality.

"97 reports..."

Norsen silently calculated in his mind:
"Enough to make her trust me, enough to make the system 'get used' to my presence, enough to make everyone think I'm just a 'harmless person'."

His fingers lightly traced the spine of the book, a "Review of the Wars at the End of the Third Age," with the emblem of the "King of the Evening Bell" printed on the cover.

"So……"

"it's time."

He walked back to his workbench and, amidst everyone's expectation that this was just another "routine errata report," began typing on the alchemy keyboard.

On the screen, a new report template marked "#98" slowly unfolds.

Kenos didn't fill it out immediately; his gaze fell on the inconspicuous little label in the corner—"Reports pending review: 99".

"Two more are needed..."

He whispered to himself:

"99, an incomplete number, a number that is unbearable for people with obsessive-compulsive disorder."

“But '100' is different.”

“That was a complete, celebratory milestone that deserves special attention.”

A barely perceptible smile curved his lips as he began rapidly typing.

Report #98 remains a harmless, trivial revision:

"On page 887 of the Dictionary of Alchemy Runes, it is suggested that the stroke order of the 'Stabilization Rune' be adjusted..."

Report #99, also harmless to humans and animals:
"Page 45 of the 'Monday Promotion Case Studies' has a mismatch between the case number and the table of contents. It is recommended that the pages be rearranged..."

then……

He took a deep breath, his fingers hovering above the keyboard.

Report #100.

The number flashed on the screen, as if urging us on, or perhaps warning us.

Norsen closed his eyes, and the familiar library appeared in his mind.

It wasn't this real cage filled with surveillance and rules, but the false illusion in "Paradise" that carried all his memories.

He recalled every book there, the "revised" history, the "smoothed out" contradictions.

He remembered his obsession and the buried truths.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lisa."

He silently apologized in his heart, but without hesitation, he began to type:
"Report No. #100: Cross-validation request".

"A document conflict was detected: the record on page 312 of The Third Age War History regarding 'The King of Evening Bells defeats the Hate Entity';"

There is an unexplained discrepancy in timing between this entry and the record on page 774 of the *Compendium of Ancient Alchemists* regarding the 'time of Elena's Moonshine's disappearance.'

"Specific contradiction: the war history records that the event occurred in the autumn of 8247 at the end of the Third Era, while the register records that Elena disappeared in the winter of 8249, a difference of two years and three months."

"The key issue: According to publicly available files, 'Hate Entities' is Elena Moonshine's representative research finding."

If the 'Hate Entity' was defeated by the King of the Evening Bell in 8247, why did Elena only 'disappear' two years later?
What did she do in those two years? Why are all the relevant records blank?

“Based on the core principle of ‘absolute truth’ of the central indexing system, this logical contradiction will undermine the self-consistency of the entire knowledge system.”

"Recommendation: Activate the automatic cross-validation program to lock all document entries related to 'King of the Evening Bell', 'Elena's Moonlight', 'Hate Entity', and 'End of the Third Era';

Perform an integrity review until the logical paradox is systematically resolved. "Note: To ensure the objectivity of the verification process, it is recommended that the verification procedure simultaneously retrieve and compare 'public files' and 'taboo files' to identify any possible traces of 'historical revisions.'"

The last sentence is the core of the entire trap.

Norsen knew that the Central Index System was an ancient alchemical intelligence whose core logic was based on the "absoluteness of truth" and the "integrity of the system".

Once a "logical contradiction" is detected, it will initiate a self-censorship process and do everything in its power to "fix" the contradiction.

The problem lies in the contradiction he raised: half of the answer is in the "public files," while the other half is in the "taboo files."

The very existence of the "Taboo Files" is a denial of the "absoluteness of truth."

If truth is absolute, why is it necessary to "hide" certain truths?
If the system is complete, why are there "inaccessible" parts?

"This is your biggest weakness."

Norsen stared at the report about to be submitted on the screen, a cold glint in his eyes:
"You rule this world with 'order,' maintain this civilization with 'system,' and suppress all dissent with 'rules'..."

"But you've forgotten..."

Even the most perfect system has logical blind spots.

"Even the most stringent rules cannot answer the question of 'why there are exceptions'."

“And the ‘central index system’ you have created is precisely built on ‘absolute truth’.”

"Then I'll let it question it itself."

Just how "absolute" are the "truths" of this world?

He pressed the "Submit" button.

The screen flashed, indicating that report #100 had officially entered the review process.

Lisa received the notification almost instantly after the report was submitted.

She habitually picked up a magnifying glass, ready to quickly browse, check off, and archive it, just like she had reviewed the previous 99 reports.

But when she saw the number "#100", she paused subconsciously.

"One hundred copies..."

She sighed inwardly:

"Mr. Davenport is truly diligent. To submit a hundred reports in such a short working time, his work efficiency is simply..."

Then, she began to read the report.

At first, I just nodded in the habitual way, thinking it was another standard, detailed, and harmless correction.

But when she read the "It is recommended to enable automatic cross-validation", her brows immediately furrowed;
His expression turned serious when he read the phrase "simultaneously access both public and taboo files";
After reading the entire report, he dropped the magnifying glass on the table with a "thud".

"This……"

Lisa felt a strange, inexplicable palpitation.

The feeling was like a precision instrument suddenly detecting data that "shouldn't exist".

Her first reaction was to reject the report.

But her rationality reminded her that the problems pointed out in the report were logically sound.

There is indeed a time lag between the two documents, and "hateful entities" is indeed Elena's research finding.

If the entity was defeated in 8247, then why did Elena "disappear" in 8249?
What happened in the last two years?
"Maybe……"

Lisa tried to convince herself:

"Perhaps it's just a recording error, perhaps it's two different 'hatred entities,' perhaps..."

But the more she looked for excuses, the more she realized that she had actually been convinced by the logic in the report.

“Rejecting this report would be tantamount to admitting that the central indexing system contains an ‘uncorrectable’ logical contradiction…”

“That would be against my duty.”

As an administrator who considers "system integrity" the highest principle, Lisa felt immense psychological pressure at this moment.

Her hands hovered over the keyboard for a full three minutes.

Finally, she closed her eyes and pressed the "Approve" button.

"Let the system handle it itself."

"The central indexing system is the most objective, the most rational, and the most perfect..."

"It will surely find the answer."

She comforted herself in this way.

Little did they know that they had just opened Pandora's box.

The core of the central indexing system is located in a secret room on the third basement level of the library.

It was a cubic array of thousands of alchemical crystals, each crystal recording a "knowledge node," and the lines connecting the crystals represented "logical relationships."

It has no emotions, no prejudices, only the purest "logic".

The moment Lisa pressed the "Approve" button, the contents of report #100 were transformed into a series of complex instructions and injected into the system core.

The system begins execution.

First, it searched page 312 of "The Third Age War History" and extracted key information:

[Event: The King of Evening Bells defeats the Hate Entity]
[Time: Autumn of the 8247th year]
[Result: The entity was sealed.]
[Credibility: Historical Archives]
Then, it retrieves page 774 of the "List of Ancient Alchemists":
[Character: Elena Moonlight]
[Event: Missing]
[Time: Winter of the 8249th year]
[Note: Related to research on hateful entities]
[Reliability: Directory Records]
Both pieces of information are of the highest credibility, and the system begins logical deduction:

IF [Hate Entity defeated at 8247] = TRUE
AND [Elena is the creator of hate entities] = TRUE
AND [Elena disappeared in 8249] = TRUE
THEN deduction got stuck here.

Logically, the "defeated entity" should be highly correlated with the "disappearance of the creator" in terms of time, with a maximum difference of a few days.

However, there was actually a two-year difference.

The system attempts to search for "supplementary information" from the past two years in an effort to fill this logical gap.

All relevant files were returned:

[ERROR: ACCESS DENIED]
[Classification Level: Taboo]
[Requires Permissions: Grand Wizard or higher]
The system is stuck in a "logical infinite loop":
To verify a logical contradiction, one needs to access forbidden files.

The very existence of taboo files proves that "truth is not always fully public."

If the truth is not fully revealed, then the core assumption of "absolute truth" collapses.

However, the very foundation of a system's existence lies in "absolute truth"...

The alchemical crystal array began to flicker, not with a normal, steady light, but with a rapid, chaotic, almost "anxious" strobe.

Within the system's core logic, error messages appeared in rapid succession:

[SI VERITAS==ARCANA,TUNC CONTRADICTIO]
(If truth is equivalent to taboo, then...a contradiction)
[SI SYSTEMA NEGAT ARCANA, TUNC SYSTEMA INCOMPLETA]
(If the system denies the taboo, the system is incomplete.)
[SI SYSTEMA COMPLETA, TUNCARCANA NON EXISTERE]
(If the system is complete, the taboo does not exist.)
[SED ARCANA EXISTUNT ERGO]
(But the taboo does exist... therefore...)
[CONTRADICTIO FUNDAMENTALIS DETECTA]
(A fundamental contradiction was detected)
……

The entire seventh-level index system was "logically locked".

All the screens on all the terminals turned red simultaneously, displaying the same message:
[System self-check in progress]

[A fundamental logical contradiction has been detected]

All related entries are locked.

Access is blocked until the conflict is resolved.

[Estimated resolution time: Unknown]

Lisa stared at the glaring red light on her terminal and froze.

The other administrators around also stood up, their faces filled with fear and confusion:

"How is this going?!"

"Why is everything locked?!"

"I can't even open the basic information about 'King of Evening Bells'!"

"Has the system gone mad?!"

With trembling hands, Lisa opened report #100 and looked at the suggestions that she had initially thought were "perfectly reasonable," but now they seemed like some kind of curse.

“Mr. Davenport…”

Her voice was hoarse: "What exactly did you do..."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the chaos, Norsen was tidying up the bookshelves as usual.

He saw the red alert and heard his colleagues' panic, but his face remained expressionless.

Only deep within his pupils behind the glasses did a near-mad satisfaction reveal itself.

"Success..."

He whispered to himself:

“I made this ‘perfect system’ itself question its own ‘perfection’.”

“Use the knife of ‘order’ to slit the throat of ‘order’.”

Just when Norsen thought everything was going according to plan, a series of clear bell sounds suddenly rang out.

Conceptual layer.

As the logical breakdown on the seventh floor of the library began to spread, the bell on someone's hat suddenly started ringing loudly.

"Wow! Brilliant!"

Hector jumped up from his chair and made an exaggerated bow:
"Norman Davenport, you certainly didn't disappoint me!"

"Using 'order' itself to attack 'order'!"

"Use the logic of the 'system' to destroy the foundation of the 'system'!"

"This is true... art."

His voice suddenly became serious:

"Although I'd like to keep watching the excitement, if this logical paradox continues to fester..."

Hector murmured:

"The 'absoluteness' of the system will completely collapse."

“By then, not only the seventh floor, but the entire library and the entire Central Land’s ‘knowledge system’ will fall into ‘self-doubt’.”

“Those historical cracks that have been carefully concealed will be exposed one by one.”

“Those ‘corrected’ truths will emerge like a tide.”

"And the scariest thing is..."

He looked at Norsen, who was still tidying up the bookshelf:

"This guy, and some of his 'spectators,' will take the opportunity to do even crazier things."

Hector was silent for a moment, then sighed.

"I'm sorry, Norman."

"I understand your obsession, and I admire your methods..."

"But I can't let you flip the whole table."

"At least, not yet."

He raised his hand, and the sound of bells rang out like raindrops, a sign that some kind of "authority" was being activated.

"Since you use 'perfect logic' as a weapon, then I'll use 'perfect absurdity' as a shield!"

The power of "absurdity" erupted in full force, transforming into countless invisible threads that penetrated dimensions and were injected into the central indexing system of the library of advanced knowledge.

………………

On the seventh floor, Lisa's terminal suddenly started displaying pop-up windows like crazy.

First window:
[WARNING: The chart on page 50 of "Advanced Astrology" has been replaced with a reindeer doing a tap dance.]

Lisa: "???"

Second window:
[Critical Error: The definition of the keyword 'history' was redirected to 'a sad story about a lost pie']

Lisa: "???"

The third window:
[Fatal malfunction: The library's automated cleaning golems are collectively performing opera and insisting they are the 'Witch King']

Lisa: "??????"

Then, more windows appeared like a flood:
The first chapter of the Rune Encyclopedia has been transformed into a recipe for cooking magic mushrooms.

All searches using "Third Era" as a keyword will return a sound of a groundhog screaming.

The magic detector indicates that the library is drifting north at a speed of three turtles per hour.

The system recommends immediate evacuation because "the ceiling is contemplating life."

The "perfect system" she had always believed in was now like a drunken clown, putting on the most absurd farce in the world.

"This is impossible……"

"How could the system produce something like this... this..."

She couldn't find the right adjective.

Because these errors are too "random", too "meaningless", and too "weird".

They do not conform to any known "system failure modes" at all.

If the logical paradoxes created by Norson were a precise scalpel, then the errors that are emerging now are like someone throwing a whole truckload of colored paint into the operating room.

One is a "fatal, precise, and meaningful" logical fallacy;

Another type is “harmless, confusing, and completely meaningless” information noise.

But the most obvious difference is that the latter has far too many!
They overwhelmed the former like a flood, causing the entire system to fall into an "overload".

Lisa discovered that, compared to the "historical time difference" that required deep thought to understand,

These screens full of "dancing reindeer" and "singing golems" are clearly more urgent and require immediate attention.

She had to abandon her investigation into the Norson Report and instead began frantically closing pop-ups, trying to restore the system's basic functionality.

In this process, the initial "logical paradox" was thus scattered, submerged, and buried by the "absurd torrent".

"Turn off all cross-indexes!"

Lisa finally made her decision, her voice sharp with pressure:
"Initiate emergency rollback! Restore to the backup from three days ago!"

"I don't care what kind of pollution it is, or what kind of mistake it is..."

"Format them all with one click!"

She pressed the red emergency button hard, and the flow of magic on the entire seventh floor suddenly stopped, then surged in the opposite direction.

All changes that occurred in the past three days have been forcibly erased.

Including those "dancing reindeer," "singing golems," "lost pies," and so on...

This also includes Northumbered's report #100. (End of Chapter)