Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

"Ron."

Azalea's voice rang out, her tone conveying a sense of "I've been holding back for so long, I'm finally going to say it."

"Ok?"

"I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"Are you... planning to open a zoo behind that door?"

Ron took a sip of herbal tea and asked knowingly, "What do you mean?"

“The zoo,” Acelia repeated, her voice icy.
"Behind your door now is a piece of flesh that eats itself, a manifestation of pure fear, a giant leech that can slow down time, a plaster statue... and several other scum whose names I can't even be bothered to remember."

She counted them one by one:

"And that moth that left behind a final message disgusted me, although strictly speaking, it was your research assistant, not a prisoner."

Dragon Soul's voice carried a hint of helplessness:

"Do you know what would happen if they all broke out of prison one day?"

"Will not."

Ron's tone was very confident.

"The space behind the [Threshold of Darkness] door is part of my ethereal body."

He carefully put away the containment list:

"The 'empty shell' is the manifestation of the soul and the externalization of the will."

As long as my will is strong enough, those prison cells will never be broken.

"Even if we take a step back and assume that they are each confined to their own independent subspaces, they are completely unable to communicate with each other."

A group escape requires the prerequisite of being "collective"; they didn't even know who their neighbors were.

Aseria was clearly not persuaded.

"You're planting a time bomb for yourself; sooner or later..."

"and."

Ron interrupted her:
"Have you ever thought about... one day, on a battlefield where you have to give it your all?"

His finger lightly drew a circle on the table:

"How spectacular would it be if I opened that door and let all these guys out?"

After those words were spoken, a long silence fell over the depths of my consciousness.

"...Your hobby of collecting strange creatures does indeed resemble that of a wizard."

"Thank you for the compliment."

I wasn't complimenting you.

"I know."

Ron picked up the glass of now-cold tea and drank it all in one gulp.

………………

Serafina ventured deeper into the heart of the Azure Garden along the vine-covered walkway.

The further you go in, the denser and more distorted the life force becomes.

The surrounding plants at least maintain a certain degree of aesthetic "acceptability".

Although it's strange, it's not enough to cause physical discomfort.

Once you get deeper inside, this disguise completely disappears.

The vines on both sides of the corridor were covered with dense, boil-like protrusions, and the smell in the air changed from floral fragrance to a salty, fishy smell similar to amniotic fluid.

At the end of the corridor was a living door.

Serafina placed her palm on the door.

The lips on the door opened and closed in unison, as if confirming the identity of the visitor.

The bark cracked open, revealing the view behind the door.

Culture chambers of various sizes are arranged along the curved wall, and each chamber contains a human-shaped body.

Some have clearly ceased all life activities, their bodies covered with fine, frosty white mycelium; others, however, are still maintaining extremely low-frequency physiological rhythms.

They were all members of the Tree of Life school.

Most of them were failed experimental subjects, some were "eliminated" modifiers, and some were tools that were once useful but are no longer needed.

Serafina treats all of these "stockpiles" equally.

Regularly check the data, replace the nutrient solution, and repair the sealing strips of the culture chamber.

It's like a diligent gardener tending their nursery, except that instead of flowers and grasses, this nursery isn't filled with them.

The Bright-Eyed Witch stopped in front of the seventh incubation chamber.

A woman's figure floated in the nutrient solution, her green hair drifting in the liquid.

This is Hina.

Serafina silently watched the witch in the incubation chamber.

According to the original plan, a month of extracting Blood Roses would be enough to teach the other party what "humility" means.

Then, with this "enlightenment" gained through suffering, Sheena will throw herself back into the school's work.

I've done this process many times myself, and the success rate is almost 100%.

Those subordinates who underwent the baptism of the Blood Rose invariably became more obedient, efficient, and... useful afterward.

It's like an iron billet that's been repeatedly forged; impurities are knocked out, and its toughness is improved.

Sheena should have been one of the successful examples.

But things just went wrong with her.

After a month of Blood Rose extraction, Sheena's body did indeed recover, and her physical attributes were even several percentage points better than before the punishment.

However, the data of the nascent form of the ethereal body tells a completely different story.

The initial anomaly was minor—the completion rate of the undead dropped from 32% to 30%.

This magnitude is not uncommon; psychological trauma, emotional fluctuations, or even a failed meditation session can all cause similar fluctuations.

Serafina didn't pay much attention.

But a month later, the number dropped to 27%.

Three months later it was 24%, and six months later it was only 19%.

Once the self-disintegration of the nascent ethereal form begins, it is very difficult to reverse.

The numbers are like a dripping faucet that has been turned on, falling uncontrollably.

Serafina tried every possible means of restoration at her disposal—herbal soaks, mental anchoring rituals, and even the school's treasured "Condensation" elixir—but nothing worked.

The root of the problem lies not in the technology, but in the belief.

The nascent form of a Dark Sun-level wizard is an external projection of their spiritual core.

Its stability depends on the strength of the wizard's own "core beliefs".

What you believe is the foundation of your being.

When she was entangled by those vines, unable to break free, and could only passively endure the loss of her life essence, she deeply understood what it meant to "lose control".

Even more terrifying, the hormones secreted by the Blood Rose made her feel...pleasure during that process.

Her body was telling her: giving up control isn't so bad after all.

When the hunter experiences the feeling of the prey firsthand and discovers that the feeling is so addictive.

At that moment, the entire cognitive framework regarding "strong" and "weak," "dominance" and "submission" developed irreparable cracks.

After confirming that Sheena's ethereal remains could not repair themselves, Serafina quickly concluded that Sheena was no longer suitable to return to her original position.

She is neither capable of undertaking intensive academic research, nor of standing alone in political maneuvering, and is even less likely to appear in any public setting that requires demonstrating the strength of a school of thought.

Keeping it is a burden.

Releasing them out would be even more dangerous.

The most straightforward solution is, of course, "recycling".

Extract the remaining life essence and special bloodline factors and allocate them to other more valuable modification projects.

Clean and efficient, leaving no hidden dangers.

But Serafina did not do that.

The reasons are hardly noble.

Sheena is a "creation" she cultivated.

From bloodline selection to mental shaping, from basic transformation to advanced training.

Serafina poured a lot of effort into every step of the process.

This kind of investment is less about deep feelings and more about the huge "sunk costs".

Through her meticulous adjustments and targeted modifications over the past century, Sheena is unique in everything from her genetic sequence to her mental structure.

The material and time costs involved are far more expensive than maintaining a culture chamber.

Therefore, Sheena was secretly transferred here.

This lock has been in place for sixty years.

As his thoughts settled, the control panel in front of the incubation chamber lit up.

Serafina tapped the panel a few times, and a set of instructions was entered into the system.

The drain valve was turned on, and the nutrient solution began to descend at a constant speed.

The liquid receded from the witch's hairline, skimming over her forehead, brow bone, and eye sockets... leaving her naked body completely exposed to the air.

Her body is beautiful.

The long-term immersion of the repair solution makes every inch of skin smooth as porcelain, and from the outside, it looks even more radiant than it did sixty years ago.

"Wake up, Sheena," Serafina said, like a mother waking a child who was reluctant to get out of bed.

"Seraphina... Lady?"

When Sheena opened her eyes in a daze, her gaze was like that of an oil lamp with a wick that had been turned down.

There is light, but it's not bright enough; there is warmth, but it's not warm enough.

It cannot penetrate the darkness before me, nor warm my own palms.

Serafina handed over a blanket, looking with satisfaction at the beautiful female body she had sculpted.

"There's an old friend you need to visit."

She smiled slightly.

"Ron Ralph, do you remember that name?"

Sheena's hand, which was wrapping her body in a blanket, froze.

After being burned by fire, one will instinctively pull their hand away when they hear the word "fire".

The body remembers things more honestly than the brain.

Her body clearly remembered what happened the last time she crossed paths with that name.

"I remember."

Sheena lowered her head, her voice barely audible.

I remember, how could I not remember?

That was the starting point of everything's collapse—a trap he had meticulously designed, a strategy he was so proud of, and an insatiable greed for the "research sample"...

Everything was destroyed by that name, along with her own fate.

Serafina did not rush to explain the mission details.

"Take care of yourself first, and change your clothes."

She pointed to a small door in the corner of the room:
"The changing room is over there, I've prepared it in advance."

The changing room was also small, but its furnishings were much neater than those of the incubation chamber.

Sheena took the silk robe off the hanger and let it wrap around her body automatically.

She felt the long-lost feeling of tightness on her skin and let out a soft breath.

The silk will automatically adjust its tightness and drape to perfectly accentuate the body's curves.

It creates a delicate balance that makes it impossible for viewers to look away, yet they can't quite put their finger on what they're looking at.

When she turned to face the full-length mirror, the image reflected in it stunned Sheena for a long time.

The woman in the mirror is young, beautiful, and has a captivating figure.

Her striking appearance is enough to draw all attention to any banquet the moment she steps into the hall.

But the person in the mirror's eyes had completely changed.

The arrogance, the scheming, and the indifference of viewing those less capable than oneself as "potential research material" have all vanished. Only an almost humble, submissive demeanor remains.

Sheena stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, so long that Serafina's voice came in from outside the door:

"Are you dressed?"

"……alright."

"Come out now, I'll tell you what's going on."

Sheena pushed open the dressing room door and walked up to her mistress.

The bright-eyed witch sized her up for a few seconds and nodded slightly.

Then, they started feeding each other information in a casual, conversational manner.

"By the way, you probably don't know this yet."

Serafina gently smoothed her hair, as if suddenly remembering something:
"Salamanda has broken through to the Great Wizard level."

Sheena's fingers paused on the action of fastening her belt.

The bright-eyed witch smiled as usual, as if she were sharing an interesting piece of gossip.

"You should remember the dean of the Sand Sea School, right? You used to complain that he spoke too loudly."

Of course, Hina remembers.

That fire giant, which was no different from an active volcano, could make the entire building tremble when it spoke.

Salamanda was quite powerful back then, yet she treated her with great respect.

The two are undoubtedly equal in status, both being at the Dark Sun level and the backbone of their respective schools of thought.

As for now?

The other party is already a great wizard, standing at a level where they can look down on them.

As for herself... Sheena lowered her head and looked at the silver buckle on her belt.

Her face was reflected on the surface of the buckle, distorted by the curved surface.

He himself was on the verge of losing even his Dark Sun-level weapon.

"As for the person I'm arranging for you to visit..."

Serafina took a briefing from her storage space, held it between two fingers, and held it up to Sheena's eyes:
"See for yourself."

Sheena's hand was steady as she took the briefing.

[Summary of Information on New Archmages Eligible for the Arena - GC-4892]

At least she thought her hands were steady, until her gaze fell upon them.

Ron Ralph

Current age: Under 100 years old

[Level: Grand Wizard (Potential to Become a King)]

Her fingers began to tremble, but she continued reading.

[Position: Full Professor of the School Alliance, Governor of the Chaotic Blood World, Core Member of the Abyss Observatory]

Marital Status: Married
Spouse: Eve Saint Manzhi, Acting Patriarch of the Crown Clan, Dark Sun-level Wizard

[Void Remains: Threshold of Darkness (Three-Pillar Structure - Starlight, Chaos, Thunder, and Fire)]

[Overall Assessment: The most promising new Grand Wizard of this era, listed as a key figure by Saint Salcardo, the "King of Records"]

The briefing slipped from Sheena's fingers.

The paper spun half a circle in the air before silently falling to the ground.

Just a few decades ago, this young man had just broken through to the Moon-level.

From what perspective did I judge him back then?

She thought she was an experienced hunter who had stumbled upon a young deer with unusual fur in the forest.

The hunter admired the fawn's beauty, coveted its valuable fur, and plotted how to capture it alive and turn it into another specimen in his collection.

But the hunter would never have believed that the fawn would one day grow into a being stronger than himself.

But that's just the way it is.

The fawn has grown up.

It not only grew up, but also became a giant dragon that even her mentor might not be able to confront head-on.

And she, the former hunter, was now standing in front of the full-length mirror in the dressing room, having her collar and belt adjusted like a doll being dressed up, preparing to head to the dragon's territory...

What are we going to do?
It's basically about "visiting" and "communicating amicably," using the most humble posture to exchange for a tiny fragment of intelligence.

This disparity is even more suffocating than the extraction of the Blood Rose.

“Xina.”

Sure enough, Serafina's command rang in their ears.

"Your task is simple."

"Under the guise of an 'academic visit,' I traveled to Ron Ralph's northern estate in the main world."

"Your role is that of a 'liaison sent by the Tree of Life School,' responsible for friendly communication regarding neighborly relations on the small chessboard."

Her hand moved away from her hair and instead gently touched the non-existent folds on Sheena's robes:
"All you need to do is observe, record, and report as much as possible."

What research is he conducting in his cubicle? What are the weaknesses in his defense system? What is his current attitude towards the Tree of Life school?

"The ideal outcome..."

She took a step back, surveyed the overall effect, and nodded in satisfaction.
"To lower his guard and reduce his hostility towards us."

"Decades have passed, and perhaps those unpleasant things from back then can be resolved with a sincere visit."

"If you can't do it..."

Serafina gently patted the witch's shoulder twice with her fingers, the force almost cruelly gentle.

"At least, don't make things worse."

Sheena could only nod.

At that moment, she had no right to refuse.

A half-crippled person whose ethereal remains are constantly disintegrating is no different in essence from those unfinished products in the incubation chambers.

The only difference is that I still have some value to be used.

But value, once it disappears...

"I understand."

Serafina nodded in satisfaction.

"Go."

Her slender hand gently scratched her chin, as if teasing an obedient puppy:

"Oh, and remember to keep smiling."

"You used to be best at laughing, didn't you?"

………………

The northern estate is situated on the edge of the central land.

After Ron became a great wizard, the manor quickly transformed from an ordinary residence into a landmark that was secretly watched by half of the wizarding world.

the reason is simple.

This is Ron Ralph's core base for handling daily affairs in the main world.

From political decisions in a chaotic world, to the compilation of experimental data on a small chessboard, and the correspondence with various forces.

Almost all matters that required his personal attention would eventually pass through the not-so-large oak table in the study of this manor.

Sheena's application was submitted through the formal diplomatic channels of the academic alliance.

The wording is extremely sophisticated.

"Sheena, the liaison for the Tree of Life School, on behalf of the school, respectfully requests Professor Ralph's permission to meet with me regarding the neighborhood cooperation on the small chessboard..."

Every word used was personally reviewed and approved by Serafina.

The subtle distinction in wording itself conveys a signal: the Tree of Life school is willing to lower its stance.

At the end of the letter was Serafina's handwritten signature, which was tantamount to the "Daughter of Bright Eyes" endorsing the visit with her own reputation.

What Sheena didn't know was that the application letter stayed on the desk for less than three minutes after it was delivered to the northern manor.

"approve."

Ron didn’t even look away from the other document he was reviewing when he wrote those two words on the reply slip.

Cecilia stood to the side, put the reply slip into an envelope, and pursed her lips slightly.

"Sir, don't you think there's something strange about this letter?"

The silver-haired maid said as she sealed the wax:
"The Tree of Life School has never contacted us proactively in the past few decades, but now they've suddenly sent people to 'communicate in a friendly manner'..."

"Of course it's suspicious."

Ron turned a page of the document, his pen circling a certain piece of data:

"But strangeness does not equal threat."

"What can a Dark Sun-class being in the process of disintegrating do?"

Cecilia thought about it and agreed.

However, out of professional habit, she still asked, "Then what was the reason for your approval?"

"Testing each other's limits."

Ron put down his pen:
"They want to test us, and we can also see what their plans are."

………………

At dawn, as Sheena stood before the manor's cast-iron gates, she felt as if she were standing before the mouth of a giant dragon.

The teeth are closed, the breathing is steady, and it might even be having a good dream.

But you know perfectly well that it can bite whenever it wants.

Sheena was alone, without any attendants.

This was something Serafina specifically instructed: "The fewer people there are, the less wary the other party will be."

She took a deep breath and reached out to touch the door knocker.

"Ms. Hina?"

A woman's voice came from inside the door, pulling her back from her observation.

The cast iron gates opened silently to both sides.

A silver-haired maid stood behind the door, her uniform impeccably tailored, her apron without a single wrinkle.

“I am Cecilia, Princess Eve’s personal maid.”

Professor Ralph is already waiting for you in his study. Please follow me.

Sheena gave her a slight bow: "Thank you for your trouble."

The two walked one after the other through the front courtyard of the manor.

Upon entering the main building, Sheena's gaze was involuntarily drawn to the decorations on the corridor walls.

Most of them are star charts, and they all have a distinct personal style.

Some of the stars formed constellations that she could not identify, perhaps defined by the painter himself.

Among the star charts, there was a painting that made Sheena stop in her tracks.

It was an oil painting, larger than the previous two.

In the center of the image is a steel sculpture—three giants standing back to back, supported by a base made up of countless hands.

The oil painting has a warm tone, and the painter used heavy brushstrokes to create the texture of steel, while applying extremely delicate treatment to the supporting hands.

She couldn't explain why, but this painting made her chest tighten inexplicably.

Those hands, those ordinary, rough, even scarred hands...

In the image, they support three giants symbolizing "wizard," "human," and "vampire," their postures devout and resolute.

"That's the 'People Create Everything' sculpture in Twilight City."

Cecilia's voice came from ahead; she had clearly noticed Sheena's pause.
“Designed by the professor himself, this sculpture is a source of pride for every resident of Twilight City in the chaotic world of Bloodshed.”

After the silver-haired maid finished speaking, she continued walking without offering any further explanation.

Sheena looked away and followed her.

In his memory, Ron Ralph's image was completely different from what he was seeing now.

This man is shrewd and experienced; he's a ruthless character who's adept at calculating everything for personal gain.

But how could someone like that hang an oil painting "glorifying ordinary people" in their hallway? (End of Chapter)