Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

At 3 a.m., in the central square of the mining area, 5,000 armored soldiers were completing their final formation with an almost ceremonial silence.

There were no noisy shouts or impassioned pre-battle mobilizations, and even superfluous conversations were barely heard.

The soldiers simply stood still, their eyes fixed straight ahead, their rune rifles resting at the exact same angle on their shoulders.

Their uniform posture made the entire formation look like a war machine designed for a single purpose.

On the top floor of the command tower, Ron stood with his hands behind his back.

At this moment, it is his own consciousness that is controlling this body.

Ink takes a backseat, only responsible for maintaining the basic physiological functions of this aging body.

He closed his eyes and took a gentle breath.

The abilities of the [Starlight Observer] surged forth like a tide.

The spiritual energy transformed into countless invisible threads, extending, spreading, and permeating into the distance...

The field of vision rapidly expanded, and the soul, freed from the constraints of the body, rose from the top of the tower, pierced through the clouds, and looked down upon the entire earth.

Target locked.

Ron's "gaze" pierced through the thick outer walls of Hearthheart, focusing on the northern defensive line.

From the air, this defensive line looks like a giant snake, half asleep and half awake, coiled on the edge of the city, using its body to protect its "master" behind it.

However... this snake is old.

His mental energy roamed the defense line, like a surgeon's scalpel probing the lesions on a patient's body:

There is a 23-meter blind spot in the fire coverage between the seventh and eighth watchtowers;
The depth of the moat on the east side is only half of the standard requirement, which is obviously due to the nobles in charge of the construction cutting corners.

The metal materials used for the western barricades are uneven, and some have even begun to rust...

On the defending side, some soldiers were dozing off against the wall, their heads nodding off.

Someone was hiding inside the watchtower, warming themselves by a fire, holding a bottle of cheap liquor in their hand;

Some people even took off their armor and were gambling with their companions; the sound of dice rolling on the ground could be clearly heard...

"It is indeed rotten."

Green and several other senior managers stood silently behind him, awaiting orders.

“Governor,” Green said in a low voice, “the troops are ready and can depart at any time.”

"Everyone."

Ron finally spoke:
"What we do today will be written into history."

"Countless years later, when people look back on this period on the Stoker Star, they will say..."

He paused, his gaze becoming profound:

"Today is the day the old world ends and the day the new world begins."

Green and the other officers straightened up in unison.

"lets go."

He turned around and looked out the window at the wasteland that was about to be ignited by war:
“Go tell the temple, tell those high and mighty nobles…”

"Dawn has arrived."

The orders were transmitted to every unit instantly through the resonant crystal network.

The armored soldiers began to board the vehicles.

This is the terrifying aspect of an industrialized system:
Everyone knows clearly what they should do, when to do it, and how to do it most efficiently.

There are no orders that require on-site temporary dispatching or repeated confirmation.

Everything was like the meshing of precision gears—accurate, swift, and unquestionable.

On the wasteland, armored torrents rolled across the dry riverbeds and swept over the undulating hills, advancing silently in the darkness before dawn.

When they were ten kilometers from the target, the reconnaissance unit transmitted back the first batch of intelligence:
"Enemy outpost spotted, guarded by three men, who are dozing off."

"Enemy patrol spotted, five men, drinking alcohol."

"Enemy observation tower detected. The rune lights on top of the tower are off, suggesting it is unguarded..."

Intelligence reports were compiled and sent to the command center.

Ron quickly constructed a complete map of the enemy's deployment in his mind—seventeen outposts, seven patrol teams, and five observation towers.

The seemingly airtight defense network is actually riddled with vulnerabilities.

"What a disappointing opponent."

He sighed softly, then gave the order:

"Reconnaissance units, use silenced weapons to clear out outer outposts and patrols."

"No enemy should be allowed to be alive to sound the alarm."

"The main force will continue to approach the enemy covertly and await my signal."

The night was darker.

The soldiers of the reconnaissance unit infiltrated the outer perimeter of the enemy's defenses like shadows.

At the first outpost, three guards were leaning against the wall, two of them already asleep, and the other's eyelids were so heavy he could barely keep them open.

"Whoosh..."

A crossbow bolt silently streaked across the night sky, piercing the throat of the still conscious guard.

Before he could even cry out, his body began to convulse violently, and then he collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

The other two sleeping guards followed closely behind, their lives taken in their sleep.

At the second outpost, the guards were sitting around a campfire, passing around a wine jug.

"I heard that the higher-ups are planning to send troops to the mining area..."

"Who cares? That's a matter for those above. What does it have to do with us?"

"That's right, that's right. As long as we hold this place and get our pay, everything else..."

Before he could finish speaking, five crossbow bolts were fired simultaneously.

The wine jug slipped from his hand, rolled a few times on the ground, and the wine slowly seeped into the soil.

The campfire was still burning, but there were no living people around.

The third, the fourth, the fifth... one outpost after another was cleared.

The whole process was fast, precise, and ruthless.

It's like some kind of efficient harvester, reaping those unsuspecting lives one by one.

When they were three kilometers away from the target, the outer defense line had been completely cleared.

Ron received the final piece of intelligence:
"All targets have been cleared, no survivors have been found, and the enemy's main force remains completely unaware."

"very good."

He glanced at the time; there was less than an hour until dawn.

"Main force, advance at full speed."

"Engineering troops, prepare to set up temporary artillery positions."

"Siege cannon, enter firing preparation state."

The sleeping behemoth finally bared its fangs, and the speed of the armored torrent suddenly increased!

The heavy vehicle's hovering height was raised to its maximum, and the magic engine ran at full power, emitting a piercing shriek that tore through the air!
The earth is shaking!
The night sky is roaring!
The steel torrent swept in like a tsunami, crushing everything in its path into dust!
On the northern defensive line of Hearthstone, the sentries on the watchtowers finally noticed the anomaly.

"Then...what is that?!"

He stared wide-eyed at the "black tide" that suddenly appeared on the horizon.

It started as a thin line, then quickly expanded and thickened, and the entire horizon was moving!

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!!"

He frantically rang the alarm bells and cried out in anguish.

But it was already too late.

"boom!"

The first cannonball from the siege engine shattered the tranquility before dawn.

The explosion's light engulfed the entire tower.

Steel bars twisted, stones flew, and the defensive array melted into liquid under the high temperature. The defenders inside the tower were engulfed by flames before they could even escape.

"Boom boom boom boom——!!"

Immediately afterwards, as if the gates of hell had been opened, thirty siege cannons fired simultaneously!
The sky was dyed a fiery white, and the explosions roared one after another, making people's eardrums feel like they were going to burst!

Shells rained down on the defensive line:

Huge breaches were blasted into the city walls;
The trenches were filled in; the barricades were blown away by the blast wave...

The garrison, who had just been awakened from their sleep and had not yet put on their armor, were torn to pieces like scarecrows in the shockwave of the explosion.

"Hold on! Maintain formation!"

A noble officer tried to organize a defense, but his voice sounded so weak and powerless amidst the explosions.

"Metal Shield! Activate the Flowing Metal Shield immediately!"

The defense technicians frantically operated the control panel, trying to activate the flowing metal on the city wall.

However, those devices had long been in disrepair and lacked maintenance, and most of them were damaged in the first round of shelling.

The barely activated shield flickered a few times before shattering under another round of bombardment.

"We can't hold on! We simply can't hold on!"

Some soldiers began to break down, throwing down their weapons and turning to flee.

"Halt! Anyone who tries to run away will be killed!"

The noble officer drew his sword, but the next second, a cannonball landed not far behind him.

The shockwave from the explosion sent him flying, crashing heavily to the ground. He bled from all seven orifices and died instantly.

Fear spread like a plague among the defenders.

In just ten minutes, the shelling turned this seemingly solid defensive line into a living hell.

"Surrender! We surrender!"

Finally, someone broke down. He threw down his weapon, raised his hands, and knelt on the ground.

This action is like the first domino in a chain reaction.

Then, the second, the third, the ten, the hundred...

The remaining defenders laid down their weapons, knelt in the ruins, and begged for their lives in the most humble manner.

The armored forces did not stop.

They continued forward, past the kneeling enemies, past the burning ruins, past the pools of blood that still flowed…

Until their flag was planted at the highest point of the northern defensive line of Hearthstone.

The red flag with black border fluttered in the morning breeze.

Embroidered on the flag is a simple yet powerful design—a clenched fist.

The time was 5:53 AM.

From the start of the shelling to the complete capture of the defensive line, it took a total of 68 minutes, 52 minutes faster than planned.

On the command tower, Ron received the battle reports from the front lines through the resonance crystal, his eyes showing no emotion whatsoever.

"Green, proceed with the second phase."

"Yes!"

Green immediately issued the order:

"Engineering troops, move into the defensive line and begin fortress construction!"

"Medical team, treat the wounded, including enemy wounded!"

"The prisoner-of-war processing team is to register and provide ideological education to those who surrender!"

Everything proceeded according to plan.

Engineering troops swarmed into the occupied area like ants, pushing transport vehicles and carrying building materials, and began to build fortifications at a visible speed.

The modular city wall was erected in one hour;

Mobile rune turrets were deployed in key positions;

Underground fortifications, ammunition depots, command centers, medical stations... functional areas quickly took shape.

The defending soldiers who knelt and surrendered were gathered in an open area.

They watched in horror, completely unable to comprehend it:

Why didn't these "enemies" kill them, but instead treated their wounded?
A young soldier in charge of registering prisoners walked over.

His face showed no hatred, only a calm expression, even tinged with pity.

"Gentlemen, the war is over, at least for you."

His voice was very gentle:
"Next, I will explain some things to you."

"Regarding why you were defeated."

"About who you are fighting for."

"Also, regarding what you should do next."

The prisoners looked at each other in bewilderment.

They didn't understand what the young soldier was saying.

Meanwhile, in the temple hall within Hearthstone City.

A messenger covered in blood stumbled in and knelt down:
"Report...Report!"

"The northern defense line...has fallen!"

In the hall, the priests who were participating in the morning prayers all changed color.

"what?!"

"This is impossible!"

"There are three thousand troops defending the northern line, how could that be..."

The messenger answered, trembling:

"The enemy...the enemy's firepower is too intense..."

"They have giant cannons, armor, and...weapons we've never seen before..."

"The defense line was breached within an hour..."

"Of the three thousand defenders, more than half were killed or wounded, and the rest surrendered..."

The hall fell into a deathly silence.

Everyone realized—war had begun.

Moreover, they suffered a crushing defeat right from the start.

………………

Reception station at the border of the mining area.

When the aircraft carrying the diplomatic mission of "Molten Fire" landed on the tarmac, the entire reception area was ready to welcome them.

The red carpet stretched from the tarmac all the way to the reception room.

Staff members in ceremonial uniforms stood on both sides, their expressions calm and without the slightest hint of servility.

This subtle gesture aroused a hint of doubt in the minds of the mission members who had just stepped out of the vehicle.

The leader was a male wizard who looked to be in his forties.

He wore a deep red robe with the emblem of "Lord of Molten Fire"—a burning skull—embroidered on his left breast.

Calvin scanned the surrounding buildings and felt a strange sense of familiarity.

The architectural style of the reception station... is very similar to that of certain schools of architecture in the main world.

The kind of simple, practical design that also contains profound aesthetic concepts could never have been created by the local forces of this remote colony.

"Welcome to all of you who have traveled from afar."

The receptionist approached with a smile:

"Governor Karen is already waiting in the reception room. Please follow me."

The members of the delegation followed the guides along the red carpet to the reception room.

Along the way, Calvin observed everything around him discreetly:
The lighting runes embedded in the walls are an improved, more efficient version;

The ground paving material was a synthetic material he had never seen before, sturdy and beautiful;

Even the atmosphere in the air carried a sense of "order" from an advanced civilization...

The door to the reception room slowly opened.

An elderly man with a hunched back was sitting at the head of the round table.

He wore a simple dark robe, his hair was gray and sparse, and his face was marked by the passage of time.

He looked like an ordinary, elderly man nearing the end of his life.

But when Calvin's eyes met the other person's, he was suddenly jolted.

Deep within those cloudy eyes lay not "twilight years," but a profound wisdom that seemed to see through everything.

"Everyone, please take a seat."

Ron smiled and gestured for the delegation members to take their seats at the round table.

Calvin sat opposite Ron, his hands clasped on the table, a standard diplomatic smile on his face:
"Governor Karen, I have long admired your name."

Please forgive my unauthorized visit.

"Where is it."

Ron smiled:
"It is an honor for the mining area to receive the attention of Lord 'Molten Fire Lord'."

Tea or coffee?

"Tea is fine."

The staff served up an exquisite tea set.

The tea was poured into the cup, and a light mist rose, carrying a delicate fragrance.

Calvin picked up his teacup and took a small sip.

Then, his pupils contracted slightly.

This tea... is not a local product of the Stoker Star.

“Governor Karen, it seems your connection with the main world is closer than I imagined.”

Calvin put down his teacup, his tone becoming serious:

"I wonder where the Governor-General learned his teacher?"

“I am Professor Utter’s student.”

Ron's answer was concise:
"He also worked under Cassandra for a period of time."

The moment those two names were mentioned, the expressions of the group members changed.

Although Professor Utter has passed away, his influence during his lifetime remains profound.

Although Cassandra is currently out of contact, her name still resounds throughout the wizarding civilization.

Either of these two individuals would command the utmost respect from everyone present.

"I see."

Calvin's attitude immediately became much more polite:

"Disrespect, disrespect."

"To be able to study under Professor Yutel and to gain the favor of Lord Cassandra..."

"The Governor-General's knowledge and abilities must far surpass ours."

Ron waved his hand:
"you flatter me."

"Both of my predecessors are no longer here. I am just a junior who has worked hard to build up the colony."

"Painstaking management?"

Calvin laughed: "Too modest."

"What we've seen along the way doesn't look like 'meticulous management,' but rather more like..."

He used cautious language: "A highly developed industrial civilization."

"Those rune production lines, those magical vehicles, and..."

Calvin's gaze sharpened:

"Those improved technologies that we have never seen before."

"Excuse me, these technologies..."

"Was it brought from the main world, or did the governor develop it himself?"

This question gets straight to the heart of the matter.

Because it relates to a crucial judgment:
Is there a major power in the main world supporting this mining area?
If so, then the "Melting Lord" must be cautious and avoid getting involved in unnecessary conflicts.

If not, then it means... this is a piece of "fat meat" that can be fought over.

Ron, of course, understood what the other person was thinking.

He picked up his teacup, took a slow sip, and then answered:
"Both."

“I brought the basic theories and some technical frameworks from the main world.”

"But the specific applications and improvements are all developed here in accordance with local conditions."

He put down his teacup and smiled:
"After all, while the technology in the main world is advanced, it may not be entirely suitable for the environment of the Stoker Star." "Adjustments must be made according to local resources, climate, and magic concentration."

"This process took me a full forty years."

Calvin nodded.

This answer is flawless.

It acknowledges the connection with the main world while emphasizing independent localized research and development.

It's impossible to tell just how many powerful figures are behind this mining area.

"So, what are the Governor's plans for the future of the Forge Star?"

Calvin asked the question from a different angle.

"Planning?" Ron laughed:
"I'm just a mining area governor; I don't have any grand plans to speak of."

"But for the future, I need allies who are willing to work with me."

He looked at Calvin and got straight to the point:
"I wonder if Lord 'Molten Fire' would be willing to become such an ally?"

Calvin fell silent.

He was quickly weighing the pros and cons.

The benefits of partnering with this mining area are obvious:
You can share resources from the stoker's star;

They will also have another powerful ally to fight against the temple, this "local force".

However, risks also exist:

If this mining area is indeed backed by a major power in the main world, then cooperation is tantamount to taking sides.
If they get involved in a conflict in the future, their supervisor will likely be implicated...

After much deliberation, Calvin finally spoke:
“Governor, I need to report the contents of this meeting to ‘Lord of Molten Fire,’ who is also my mentor.”

"Specific details of the collaboration will probably have to wait until the mentor makes a decision before we can continue to discuss them."

"understand."

Ron nodded and smiled at Calvin:
"But I at least hope that when I clash with the temple, Lord 'Molten Lord' will remain neutral, or even offer some... whatever help he can."

This condition is not excessive; in fact, it can be said to be quite reasonable.

"I will report to Your Excellency truthfully."

He stood up and solemnly performed a wizard's salute:

"We have received the Governor's sincerity."

"I hope that our next meeting will be as 'allies'."

"I hope so."

Ron also stood up and returned the greeting.

After the delegation left, only Ron remained in the reception room.

He walked to the window and looked at the busy factories and construction sites in the distance:

"The first step is completed."

"In this way, I can focus all my efforts on dealing with the temple."

He turned around and looked south—the direction of Hearth City.

Hearthstone must be in complete chaos right now, right?
………………

Hearthstone, Council Hall.

"Trash! It's all trash!"

A noble priest in a magnificent robe smashed a crystal goblet on the ground, shattering it into pieces.

His face flushed crimson, his chest heaved violently, and his eyes were filled with anger and fear.

"Three thousand defenders! Three thousand!"

"They couldn't even last an hour!"

"What did you commanders eat to grow up like this?!"

In the hall, a dozen or so noble officers lowered their heads and dared not utter a sound.

The disastrous defeat on the northern defense line plunged them all into panic.

This means that the military strength of the mining area far exceeds their expectations.

That was no ordinary rebel army, but a truly terrifying, well-trained, and well-equipped force.

"Now how to do?"

Another nobleman stood up, his voice filled with anxiety:

"The enemy has already built a fortress on the northern defensive line!"

"Their massive cannons could easily bombard the city!"

"If they launch an attack..."

"Shut up!"

Priest's Roar:

"Anyone who dares to say anything discouraging, I'll kill them first!"

Even with his tough stance, he couldn't hide the fact that they were panicking.

"Summon the army!"

The priest forced himself to calm down:

"Immediately issue a conscription order to all mining areas!"

"I need ten times the number of troops!"

"No, twenty times!"

"I refuse to believe that damned mining area can withstand an army twenty times its size!"

Once the order was given, the entire Hearth City began to function.

The messengers rode their vehicles and sped off in all directions, delivering the conscription orders to every affiliated mining area and noble territory.

The problem is... are these nobles really willing to send troops?
In the eastern mining area of ​​the city, at the residence of a nobleman.

An obese middle-aged man was sitting in a luxurious chair, toying with a gemstone in his hand.

"My lord, the temple's summons has arrived."

The butler respectfully presented the documents.

"A conscription order?"

The nobleman glanced at it and sneered:
"You want me to send troops to their deaths?"

"dream!"

"But my lord..."

The butler cautiously reminded him:
"If you disobey the summons, what will happen at the temple..."

"Temple?"

The nobleman sneered, "The temple can't even hold its northern defenses now, what right does it have to order me around?"

He casually tossed the conscription order on the ground:
Tell the messenger that I am sick.

"He is very ill and unable to send troops."

Similar scenes were repeated in the noble territories of various places.

Some people feigned illness, some claimed there was a shortage of food and supplies, and some simply locked themselves in their rooms and pretended they hadn't received the conscription order.

These nobles had long been alienated from the people.

Their loyalty to the temple was based on self-interest.

Once the temple shows signs of decline, these "loyal subjects" will immediately turn into opportunists.

Southern Mining Area Alliance, Council Room.

Several noble representatives are engaged in a heated debate.

"We must answer the call to duty!"

An elderly nobleman slammed his fist on the table:

"If the temple collapses, we won't survive either!"

"Can't survive?"

Another young nobleman sneered:

"I don't think so."

"Isn't the mining area promoting some kind of 'new model'?"

"I heard that people who go there to seek refuge are given land and houses..."

"You want to defect to the enemy?!"

The elder nobleman roared.

"Defection?"

The young nobleman stood up, showing no weakness:

"I'm only thinking of my family!"

"The temple is already a wrecked ship; staying any longer will only lead to it sinking!"

"It's better..."

He lowered his voice:
"It would be better to take the initiative to show goodwill and see if we can secure a place in the new order."

These words silenced the other nobles.

Because in their hearts, they were all actually making the same calculations.

Ultimately, the Southern Mining Alliance made a decision: to send troops, but only five thousand men, and the five thousand men with the worst equipment.

On the surface, it was a response to the call-up order, but in reality, it was just going through the motions.

Three days later, the temple finally managed to assemble its first batch of "loyal" troops.

These people came from various mining areas and noble territories, their equipment varied greatly, and their morale was low.

Many soldiers didn't even know who they were going to fight; they were simply forcibly conscripted under orders.

The army was commanded by a "full-golden man" named Atticus Grant.

Looking at this rabble before him, he felt a profound sense of powerlessness.

"lets go."

He sighed, a vague premonition already forming in his heart that this was going to be a disaster.

The northern defense line, the mining area fortress.

Ron stood on the fortress's observation deck, observing the approaching enemy forces through his binoculars.

He put down his binoculars: "Less than expected."

"It seems that the temple's mobilization capabilities are not as strong as before."

Green, standing nearby, nodded:

"Those nobles are all watching and waiting."

"They were unsure of the course of the battle, so they dared not commit their full resources."

"very good."

Ron smiled: "That's exactly what I wanted."

"Let them continue to observe and hesitate."

"After all these people are wiped out..."

His smile turned cold:

"Fear will lead them to make the right choices."

"Pass the order."

"Heavy artillery positions, enter combat readiness."

"Armored units, be ready to strike at any time."

When the enemy was still ten kilometers away from the fortress, Atticus Grant ordered the entire army to halt its advance.

He needs to first scout out the enemy's situation and formulate a battle plan.

"Send out scouts to find out the enemy's deployment."

"Sappers, begin digging trenches and fortifications."

"Everyone, rest where you are!"

The order was relayed.

However, when it came to execution, it became a complete mess.

Some units followed orders, while others went off to rest on their own, and some officers even argued about who was in charge and who should command whom…

Atticus Grant watched the chaotic scene, his anxiety growing stronger.

"Damn it..." He was about to order a crackdown on military discipline.

"boom!"

A shell fell from the sky and landed at the edge of the army formation, the explosion instantly engulfing more than a dozen soldiers.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

Panic-stricken shouts rang out in the military camp.

The soldiers scattered and fled, completely unsure of where to hide.

"Boom boom boom!"

More shells fell.

Ron deliberately controlled the density of firepower.

What he wanted was not to wipe out the army once and for all, but... torture.

Let these soldiers break down in fear, then run back and spread the fear to more people.

The shelling lasted for a full half hour; it wasn't intense, but it was continuous.

The soldiers huddled in makeshift bunkers, shivering.

Someone was hit by shrapnel from the shell and let out a piercing scream.

Some people were so terrified that they stood up and tried to run away, only to be blown to pieces by the next shell.

Atticus Grant tried to stabilize the formation, but he soon realized it was impossible.

These people were not a well-trained army to begin with.

They were farmers, miners, and even slaves who were forcibly conscripted.

Faced with this level of firepower, they could do nothing but fear.

"Retreat! All troops retreat!"

Atticus Grant finally made his decision.

Staying any longer will only lead to more deaths.

But when he gave the order to retreat, he discovered that his army had already begun to collapse on its own.

The soldiers threw down their weapons and fled in panic.

The officers couldn't control their subordinates either, and some officers were even running away themselves.

An army of more than 20,000 men turned into a group of panicked deserters in just one hour.

Atticus Grant watched this scene with utter despair.

"It's over..."

"It's all over..."

At the mining fortress, Ron watched the enemy's rout through his binoculars and nodded in satisfaction.

"very good."

"Green, send out a reconnaissance team to track down the fleeing soldiers."

“Document their escape route and the fear they spread along the way.”

"At the same time, we collected weapons and equipment left behind on the battlefield."

"These things are valuable samples for studying the temple's gold-burning technique."

"Yes!"

A night breeze swept by, carrying the dry scent unique to the wasteland.

In the distance, the outline of Hearth City was faintly visible in the night, and there were still scattered lights flickering inside the city.

But those lights are dwindling day by day.

"almost."

"In a few more days, the city of Hearth will be in complete chaos."

"That will be the real moment to close the net."

"But before that..."

Ron closed his eyes, and his consciousness began to detach from this body.

The consciousness of ink regained control of "Karen's" body.

Ron's main consciousness, however, returned to his original form in the abyss along the soul connection.

Although the war on the Stoker Star is important, it has entered a period of stability.

All that's needed now is to proceed according to the established strategy; he doesn't need to keep a close eye on things all the time.

But now—he has more important things to do.

An extremely dangerous experiment that would lead to a breakthrough in his alchemy.

………………

The fifth layer of the abyss, the Sea of ​​No Light.

Deep within the Chaos Palace, Ron's true form slowly opened his eyes.

He was surrounded by a familiar, warm touch—the tentacle left behind by Nari was gently wrapping around his body, as protective as a mother embracing her child.

"My baby's back~"

Nari's cheerful voice resounded on a spiritual level:

"Mom can feel your soul trembling. Is something important about to happen?"

"Yes, mother."

Ron stood up and stretched his somewhat stiff body:

"I'm going to try... a very dangerous alchemical experiment."

"Danger?"

Nari's tentacles tightened slightly:
How dangerous?

"The kind that could kill you."

"That won't work!"

Nari's voice immediately became excited:
"Mom won't allow you to do such a dangerous thing, baby!"

"Mother."

Ron gently stroked the tentacles wrapped around his body:

"You should know that I have to do this."

"Alchemy is a hurdle I must overcome."

"If I remain at the level of mastery forever, many plans will never come to fruition."

Nari fell silent.

After a long silence, she said softly:
"Then... Mom will always be there for you."

"What if something unexpected really happens..."

The tentacles tightened their grip even more:

"Mom will save you, no matter the cost."

A warm feeling welled up in Ron's heart.

"Thank you, Mom."

He turned and walked toward the laboratory that Nari had built for him.

Two abyssal treasures were already prepared on the experimental table.

Ron took a deep breath and began to recall some of his attempts over the past few decades:
Countless purification experiments, both successful and unsuccessful;
Repeated overthrows and reconstructions of the "essence of life"

The skills of combining mechanics and flesh that he learned from Vinard;
And the profound meaning of "memory is essence" as understood through vampire research...

Each failure brought him closer to the truth.

Every success opens up new possibilities.

And today—he wants to combine all of these accumulated elements into a completely new creation.

What is the ultimate goal of alchemy?

Ron's mind echoed with the words Vinard had once given him:

"When you stop 'manufacturing' things and start 'creating' life..."

"You have touched the realm of the gods." (End of Chapter)