Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

In the study on the top floor of the experimental tower, Ron was sitting by the window reading a letter.

The paper was of high quality, but the handwriting on it was crooked and messy, lacking any regal style. Some strokes even showed signs of being left by a shaky hand.

That was written by an old friend before he passed away.

An elderly man, whose pen could no longer be held firmly, used his last strength to leave his final words to his dearest friend.

Ron:
See the word as the face.

By the time you read this letter, I may already be gone.

I've lived long enough, that's enough.

I am most proud of three things in my life:
First, it transformed Farouk from a small, peripheral country into a powerful continental nation.

Secondly, it's because our two families' children have become related by marriage;

Thirdly, I've made you my friend.

As for regrets... there's only one: I didn't get to see you come back.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

If you miss me, have a drink.

Remember to choose the good ones, don't try to fool me with that bitter water made from those rotten black nettle leaves again.

Old friend, until we meet again.

Andrei

The handwriting became increasingly illegible in the last few lines, and the last stroke of the character "烈" was simply dragged out as a long ink mark.

As I write this, my hands are completely exhausted.

Ron folded the letter and put it back in his inner breast pocket.

He took a sip of the cold herbal tea; he had brewed it himself, and it didn't taste very good.

"Reading that letter again?"

Aseria's voice came through, as straightforward as ever.

"Let's do it a third time." He didn't hide anything.

"Then why not do something useful? Your necromancy skills are now far superior to what they were six months ago."

Memory residue retrieval – how successful have you been?

“More than 80% can be extracted from living organisms, and the remaining parts after death can also be extracted…” Ron pondered for a moment:
"Look at the time frame. If the time since death is more than ten years, the extracted memory fragments will begin to be severely distorted."

More than fifty years have passed; only the lingering emotions remain, the specific images are unrecognizable.

How long has Andrei been dead?

"In the time conversion of the main world, it's less than ten years."

“Less than ten years,” Acelia repeated the number:
"With your current level, such a short decay time is enough for you to extract clear fragments of memory."

Ron did not respond immediately, his gaze falling on the corona emblem on the table.

The emblem was a gift from Airo to him during her last trip with him, Eve, Dale, and others, supposedly to be handed over according to Andrei's will.

This is something Andrei has worn for most of his life.

The remaining spiritual imprints on it are so thick that they can be detected almost without the need for spiritual perception.

"What are you hesitating about?" Acelia pressed.

"I'm wondering... if doing this is appropriate."

"Extracting the memories of the deceased is essentially peeping into a person's most private mental world."

Although Andrei is an old friend, he never explicitly authorized me to do this.

"He left the emblem to you."

“He gave the emblem to Airo, who then passed it on to me. This is not the same as ‘authorization’.”

"You wizards are just too much trouble."

Dragon Soul snorted, but his tone softened:

"The letter even included the line, 'If you miss me, have a drink.'"

To put it bluntly, the fact that he dared to say such things to a wizard shows he knows perfectly well that there are more direct ways to "see" him than drinking.

"By not mentioning those methods, we are giving you the choice."

Ron remained silent for a long time.

In the distance, the Echoing Tree stands quietly.

The gray-white branches extend unseen roots into the spirit world, silently breathing in the lingering echoes of souls that have naturally dissipated.

"Okay," he finally said. "I'll do it."

The preparation work took a lot of time.

Andrei was not an experimental subject; he was the first friend he made after merging his memories.

If you absolutely must extract memories from the deceased, you must at least do so without disturbing their peace.

In his book *On the Boundary Between Life and Death*, Barnabas used a very apt analogy:

"Residual memory extraction is like taking a handful of water from a deep, still lake."

Your touch must be extremely gentle, so as not to disturb the fish sleeping peacefully at the bottom of the lake.

Ron checked the magic circle one last time to make sure it was working correctly.

“I’m going to begin,” he said to Acelia.

"Okay, I'll keep an eye on your mental energy consumption for you."

Dragon Soul's voice became unusually serious:
“If you exceed the safety threshold, I will forcibly pull you out. Don’t be stubborn like last time in the depths of the spirit world.”

"Understood." Ron closed his eyes.

The perception of the spirit world unfolded like a tidal wave.

Consciousness sinks into the edge of the spirit world, and the scene of the material world gradually becomes blurred.

The scene unfolds: Andrei is lying in bed, looking much older than I remember.

These are memories from before his death.

Ron could sense the other person's emotions at that moment; it was a kind of almost transparent relief.

Like a traveler who has walked a very long way, finally reaching the end of the road, unloading the baggage he has carried all his life, and letting out a long sigh of relief.

In his memory, Andrei moved his lips.

“Ron… promised to be back soon, but look at him… even more untrustworthy than me…”

The old man managed a weak, almost imperceptible smile.

"But... it's not your fault."

"Go ahead and busy yourself with your grand ambitions, changing the world has always been your forte..."

"As for me..." His gaze shifted to the window.

The autumn fields glowed with golden-red hues under the setting sun, and a flock of birds flew across the sky.

"I can no longer wield a sword... I can no longer ride a horse, I can't even hold a teacup steadily..."

"But I have no regrets in my life."

His memories began to become fragmented, and Andrei began to drift into a revolving lantern of recollections.

Out of respect, Ron only selected flashbacks that also appeared in his own memory:
The first scene is him opening the door to the apprentice dormitory, revealing a lazy, boyish face behind the door.

"Hey, Ron? Are you still alive?"

“I haven’t seen you in any public area for a whole week. I thought you had quietly turned into a dried-up corpse in your room.”

……

"First, chop up the roots and stems of the red sand grass."

"Now add the phoenix tail pollen."

"Wait! Don't pour it in directly, the reaction will be violent! Sprinkle it in slowly, so that it spreads evenly on the surface of the liquid."

In his memory, Andrei looked on with a sense of existential doubt when he saw that he had successfully refined the product on his first try using such rudimentary tools.

……

"Then, farewell."

May the stars guide your way, and may fate favor your journey.

"May the sun shine upon your land, and may your descendants carry on your glory."

The two looked at each other and smiled.

The black-robed wizard turned and left, his robes fluttering slightly behind him like sails about to embark on a long voyage.

The blond prince stood there, watching his dearest friend, who had changed his destiny, leave.

………………

When Ron snapped out of the memory, he found his face was wet.

This surprised him somewhat.

Emotional control is one of the fundamental skills of a wizard.

But those images just now... no, not just images, but all the emotions Andrei poured into the emblem before his death.

They were so intense, so genuine, that even the high walls he had built around his heart could not completely shut them out.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm very good."

"...You're lying."

"Well, I'm not doing well." He could only change his words: "But this 'not doing well' is to be expected."

"Acelia, do you remember the letter Lilia recently sent you?"

"Which one? She sends them every month."

"The one from last month, the one that mentioned that Airo wasn't doing too well lately."

Dragon Soul paused for a moment, seemingly searching through his memories.

"I remember, they said that little girl would stare at an old photo album all day long in the Emerald Tower, didn't like to talk, and was absent-minded during training."

"Yes, Airo is a puppeteer."

He pondered:

"Puppet masters and necromancers have one thing in common—they are both trying to give 'inanimate objects' a certain 'life quality'."

"The difference is that necromancers extract from the dead, while puppeteers infuse into puppets."

"One is taking, the other is giving."

"But what if we combine the two?"

Aseria immediately realized:
"You want to use the data extracted from her memories to make Lilia make Andrei's doll for that girl?"

"Not just Andrei."

Ron's gaze deepened:
"The family members she lost—Andrei, her father, and her mother."

If we can extract their frequency of existence, and then use that as a blueprint, the puppeteer can inject it into the core structure of the puppet…

"In theory, those dolls will no longer just 'simulate' the appearance and behavior of the deceased; they will carry the true 'presence' of the deceased."

"It's like lighting a lamp in the dark."

A lamp is not the sun, and it will never become the sun, but its light is real.

He returned to his desk and began scribbling something quickly on a piece of paper.

"If we use the solar corona emblem as the core, combined with the mental frequency data extracted from memory..."

"In the spirit world, this doll will be almost as 'bright' as Andrei himself."

Ron put down his pen and examined the outline of the plan he had just written on the paper.

"I want to write a letter to Lilia."

"Write now?"

"Write now."

He picked up another blank sheet of paper.

After writing a few words, I crossed them out and started over.

"what happened?"

“It’s a matter of wording.” Ron’s expression was somewhat subtle:

“I can’t just tell her ‘I used necromancy to extract Andrei’s memories,’ she’ll be terrified.”

"You're not blaspheming the dead."

“I know, but for wizards of the Fourth Age, the idea of ​​‘extracting memories from the dead’ sounds a bit, how should I put it…”

"Like a pervert?"

“...I was going to say ‘easy to be reported,’ but your word is quite accurate.”

Ron shook his head and picked up his pen again.

After finishing the letter and checking it, he glanced at the corona emblem again.

After hesitating for a moment, I put it in the mailbox.

"Until we meet again."

He whispered the last words Andrei had said to him.

Then, drop the mailbox into the designated mail delivery slot.

…………

In late autumn, the forest begins to shed its last layer of green.

The leaves covering the branches turned from emerald green to golden yellow, and then from golden yellow to deep red.

Finally, on a quiet, unexpected morning, the first frost fell silently.

Lilia de Winter sat by the window in her studio, reading the letter over and over again.

She slammed the letter on the table, then picked up the corona emblem that had come with it and examined it under the light for a while.

"By integrating mental frequency data into the core of the doll, the doll can carry the true presence of the deceased..."

The mentor's suggestion is technically feasible.

But the problem isn't with the technology; the problem lies with Airo.

Lilia stood up and walked to the window.

In the courtyard, his students were adjusting the combat dolls.

Three standardized dolls lined up, undergoing precise blocking and counter-attack training under Airo's control.

The movements were fluid, the rhythm steady, and the efficiency extremely high. It was indeed impeccable, but also utterly lifeless.

More than half a month has passed since Airo returned from the Kingdom of Farouk.

She completed all the tasks Ron had assigned her:
The first phase of the relocation list has been completed, communication lines have been tested, and Frey's team is also steadily advancing the dispersal and resettlement work according to the plan.

Everything was on track, but Airo herself... was clearly not quite right.

She saw Ai Luo sitting alone in her room several times, with an open photo album on her lap.

The girl's gaze remained fixed on a certain page, lost in thought, and after a while, she even forgot to turn the page.

That photo album is very old.

The cover features the Farouk royal coat of arms in gold foil, and the photos inside are arranged chronologically.

Lilia had also looked at the photo album after obtaining his permission.

Among those photos were pictures of Andrei in his military uniform when he was young, family portraits, and solo photos of Airo's mother.

Of these people, Borna has passed away, Airo's mother died very young, and Andrei has been buried in the royal mausoleum for several years...

The people in the photos, one by one, became names in memories, but Airo is still alive.

After Andrei's death, her students also became more silent.

This is not unusual in itself; after Ai Luo grew up, she gradually became less talkative.

When communicating with others, I try to be as concise as possible with my words, as if every extra word I say requires extra effort.

However, this silence is different from the silence of the past.

She used to occasionally name dolls, such as "Alice", "Elizabeth", and "Margaret".

Now, however, there are only functional designations such as "Basic No. 1", "Basic No. 2", and "Special No. 1".

She would sometimes touch the wizard bear that was always by her side while waiting for the doll to be reset.

But last time, Lilia tentatively asked, "Where's your teddy bear?"

The answer I received was just one word: "Received."

"Why are you sighing?" a voice came from behind.

Lilia turned her head and saw Elena leaning against the door frame of the studio.

The witch is wearing a warm-toned brown-red coat today.

This is a rare color in her wardrobe; she usually only wears gray or black.

"I've changed my clothes."

"Yes, because I'm in a good mood today." Elena walked in, sat down opposite Lilia, and picked up the letter on the table.

"Did your advisor write to me? Let me see."

“Hey, that’s…”

Lilia had barely finished speaking when Elena had already finished reading the letter, her speed comparable to a scanner.

"Mental frequency data, presence injection, doll core..."

She put down the letter and looked at Lilia with her amber eyes:
"Your advisor's idea is really quite clever."

"Not only did we solve the 'materials' problem, we also laid the theoretical interface for the general introduction to death... uh, soul and puppetry."

Lilia nodded, but her expression lacked its usual gentleness, and she looked somewhat worried.

Creating dolls of the deceased is not taboo in the wizarding world, but it is not an ordinary thing either.

For those who have lost a loved one, this can be both a comfort and a new obsession.

“I know what you’re worried about.” Elena saw through her concerns:
"I'm afraid she'll become obsessed with it, mistaking the doll for a real person, and sink deeper and deeper into it."

"There is indeed a risk, but think about it, she's already sliding in that direction."

At this point, her tone softened somewhat:
"And have you considered one possibility?"

"what?"

"Her current reclusiveness is not because she has the doll, but precisely because she doesn't."

Elena's gaze fell upon the small, thin figure outside the window:
"Some emotions always have nowhere to go. The little girl is a witch, and her training prevents her from breaking down in front of others."

She's also a reserved person; she's never been good at expressing her emotions verbally.

"So those sorrows can only be suppressed in one's heart, and the more suppressed they are, the more suffocated one becomes."

"I've flipped through an old photo album over and over again, but the photos can't talk, they can't move, and they can't pat her head when she's sad."

Lilia remained silent for a long time.

"...Senior Elena, you make it sound so easy."

"Because I've lived long enough and seen enough."

Elena shrugged, a self-deprecating tone in her voice:
"When I was locked up in that hellish place, if someone had left me an 'exit,' I probably wouldn't have almost driven myself crazy."

He spoke casually, but Lilia sensed something beneath the casualness.

This is advice from someone who's been there.

"Okay." She finally nodded.

“I’ll prepare the materials and basic structure. You’ll be in charge of the spiritual infusion and emotional simulation, senior.”

"However... Andrei's doll requires a special material."

"what?"

"Corona emblem".

"This requires Airo's own consent."

“That badge means a lot to her, and I can’t make that decision for her.”

Lilia found Airo after training.

"Airo".

She sat down next to one of her students.

"Ok?"

Do you remember that wizard bear?

These words made Ai Luo pause for a moment as she applied oil to the doll.

"……Remember."

"It's still in your storage bag, right?"

Ai Luo finally turned around, her eyes full of confusion. She didn't understand why her mentor had suddenly brought this up.

"I want to help you fix it."

Lilia's voice was gentle, like she was coaxing a child who didn't want to give up their favorite toy:
"We will not only restore its appearance, but also give it a certain spirituality."

This allows it to move independently and even make some simple responses.

"Just like you dreamed of when you were a child."

Airo stopped applying the oil completely.

"in addition……"

Lilia took out several design sketches from her sleeve:
"If you'd like, Elena and I can help you make a set of dolls based on the images of your family members."

Airo stared at the design drawings for a long time, so long that Lilia began to worry that she might have made a mistake.

"Corona emblem".

The girl suddenly spoke, her voice a little hoarse.

"what?"

"Making a doll of my grandfather...does the mentor need the solar emblem as material?"

Lilia was taken aback.

Before she could even mention it, Airo had already guessed it herself.

"Yes." Lilia didn't hide anything:

"The remaining mark on that emblem allows Andrei's dolls to reach the highest precision."

"Once you use it, it might never come back to you. Are you sure you want to..."

"Use it."

Airo's answer was surprisingly straightforward.

“My grandfather left it to me, not for me to hide.”

………………

The day of delivery was a bright winter day. Lilia knocked on the student's door in the afternoon, holding a simple wooden box in her hands.

"finished."

The wooden box was opened, and four dolls lay quietly on velvet cushions.

As magic was infused, the eyes of the Andrei doll opened first.

It stretched out its tiny palm and gently patted the back of Airo's hand.

Airo pursed her lips, the muscles between her brows twitching slightly, using all her willpower to prevent her expression from crumbling.

“Mentor,” the girl’s voice was slightly hoarse, “Well done, thank you.”

"I'll go out first, you can take your time looking at it."

"Ah."

After the door closed, Lilia heard a muffled whimper.

In the days that followed, Airo did indeed undergo some changes.

She placed those dolls in various parts of the room.

The doll of Andrei is placed on the desk, serving as a bookend;
The doll of Borna sits on the windowsill, looking out at the forest;
The mother's doll was placed on the bedside table, accompanied by a small jewelry box.

As for the wizard bear, it received the highest level of treatment and was allowed to roam freely in the room.

The little guy wobbled around on the table, occasionally falling over, then slowly getting back up on his own.

Sometimes it will walk straight to the ink bottle and rub its round head against the bottle.

The origin of this action is unknown.

Lilia guessed that it was probably because when she was little, Airo often hugged her teddy bear while doing her homework, and the teddy bear "remembered" the existence of the ink bottle.

The most obvious change is that Airo started rehearsing "puppet shows" in her spare time.

The first time Lilia caught him was on a winter afternoon.

She went to deliver some snacks to Airo, and when she opened the door, she saw a scene that made her feel a little sad.

Four dolls were neatly arranged on the desk.

Airo sat at the table, her fingers connected to the control circuits, making the puppets move on their own.

Andrei's doll stands at the front, hands on hips, seemingly engaged in boasting.

The doll of Borna followed behind Andrei, with one hand loosely resting on Andrei's shoulder and the other hand making a "please be quiet" gesture.

This was a habitual action of Borna's during his lifetime; whenever Andrei got excited while talking, he would always pull him along.

The doll of Airo's mother stood to the side, her head slightly tilted, adopting a smiling, observing posture.

And the wizard bear... it circled around the workbench, mimicking the actions of conducting experiments, after all, someone always has endless experiments to do.

Under Airo's skillful hands, the puppets, each playing a different role, are performing a scene that only exists in imagination: a family together.

Lilia stood at the door for a long time.

She noticed that when Airo was manipulating the puppet, the expression on her face was no longer the usual indifference.

That expression was subtle; it wasn't a smile, nor could it be described as sadness.

When someone revisits a precious memory, a look of dazedness and tenderness naturally appears on their face.

She quietly closed the door, not wanting to disturb the other person any further.

This kind of "puppet show" gradually became a regular habit for the little girl.

Every evening, after a day of training and research, she would return to her room, take out the dolls, and spend an hour or two rehearsing various scenes.

Sometimes, it's about recreating a real memory from her childhood:
Andrei rode his young daughter across the autumn fields, marigolds fluttering on either side of the horses' hooves.

Borner told her legendary stories of his great-uncle by the fireplace, while she nestled in her father's arms, holding her beloved wizard bear.

Sometimes, the scenarios become even more fantastical:
Andrei, riding a giant dragon (played by the wizard bear), charges toward the imagined evil castle.

Borna and his mother are strolling in the garden, with a miniature courtyard made of books and stationery in the background.

Another family sat around the table, enjoying a dinner that didn't exist.

Lilia would occasionally hear noises coming from inside the room while she was outside the door.

The sounds of the puppets moving, the thumping footsteps on the wooden tabletop, and the girl's very occasional giggles.

Every time that laughter appeared, it made Lilia's heart tighten.

Alone in his room, he reenacts scenes from his family's lives using dolls.

Controlling four characters at the same time, acting as both director and audience member all by himself... he would occasionally burst out laughing to himself.

Is this behavior a way of healing wounds, or is it a slide into a deeper form of isolation?
Unable to make up her own mind, she could only confide her confusion to Elena.

The senior colleague's answer was as straightforward as ever:
"What are you worrying about? She's laughing. How long has it been since you heard her laugh?"

Lilia thought for a moment: "...It's been a long time."

"That's fine then." Elena leaned back in her recliner, swaying gently.

"As for whether her methods are 'normal'... please, she's a puppeteer, don't judge a wizard by mortal standards."

"The little girl has found her own way to remember those people, what's wrong with that?"

As she spoke, she flipped the record player beside her, letting the lyrics speak for her unspoken words:

“Ex cinere, phoenix resurgit…

From the ashes, the phoenix rises from the ashes…

“Ex lacrima, flos nascitu…

From tears, flowers bloom…

Lilia listened to "Ode to New Life" and thought for a long time.

From a room not far away, a faint "thump-thump" sound could be heard; it was the wizard bear falling over on the workbench again.

Then came a very soft laugh, the kind that would vanish with a gust of wind.

"Okay, maybe... this is enough."

At least for those who have passed away, their spirits can still dance on Airo's fingertips and walk on the desktop.

In the quiet afternoons, one can tirelessly repeat those warm, mundane daily routines, routines that can never be relived. (End of Chapter)