Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Ron sat alone in the study.

At this moment, a black and white invitation card floated in front of him.

The invitation was made of a very special material—neither paper nor an alchemical creation, but more like a manifestation of some kind of "concept".

It was sometimes clear, sometimes blurry, with tiny bubbles constantly overflowing from its edges, each bubble reflecting a distorted smiling face.

On the front of the invitation, a line of text was written in cursive script:
"Dear Sir Ron Ralph, I cordially invite you to participate in a 'hunting game'."

The prey is ready, the hunting grounds are set up, all that's left is for the hunters to make their appearance!

At the bottom of the signature is a crooked clown head.

"An Invitation from the King of Absurdity..."

Ron rubbed his temple.

He's known the other person for quite some time now, and he's gradually gotten used to dealing with them.

But each time, Hector's way of doing things still gave him a headache.

Can't we just discuss a normal request properly? Why do we have to turn it into some kind of "hunting game"...?

Just as he was about to examine the contents of the back of the invitation, the light in the room suddenly distorted.

It doesn't darken; quite the opposite.

All the shadows "stood up" at the same moment, like black ribbons given life, dancing joyfully in the air.

Ron sighed:

"Your Majesty, you can just show yourself directly. There's no need to make it so...dramatic every time."

"Oops~ We've been found out~"

A figure "squeezed" out from there.

It's like squeezing from a two-dimensional plane into a three-dimensional space; the whole process is full of incongruity.

Saint Hector, the king of absurdity, dressed in his signature clown costume, his face paint reflecting an eerie glow in the candlelight.

"Ron, Ron~ You saw the invitation, right~"

The clown hopped and skipped to the table, the bells on his body ringing crisply.
"How was it? The wording was quite interesting, wasn't it? I even hired a prisoner who knows how to write invitations to help polish it!"

"You mean..."

Ron raised an eyebrow: "You're having someone with mental pollution write your invitation letter?"

"Yes~"

Hector nodded matter-of-factly:
"That guy used to be a poet; he had a really good feel for writing."
Although my mind isn't working very well anymore, I always feel like I'm a talking teapot, and every now and then I pour boiling water into my own mouth..."

The clown started laughing as he spoke:
"But it's okay~ As long as we seize the opportunity when he's 'sober,' we can still squeeze out some literary talent~"

Ron was speechless.

He now completely understood why the King of Records always had that lifeless expression whenever he was with Hector.

"Back to business."

He pushed the invitation back onto the table: "You've come to me to take in those prisoners who escaped from 'Paradise'?"

Bingo!

Hector snapped his fingers, and the surrounding shadows instantly coalesced into a giant star map:

"Look, these red dots... they're all the adorable little ones who have 'escaped'!"

Dozens of red dots are densely distributed across the star map.

Some are in barren deserts, some are deep in frigid ice fields, and a few have even been thrown to the edge of void rifts...

"They thought they had escaped."

They thought they had broken through the park's blockade using their own "wisdom" and "strength".

"As everyone knows..."

The clown turned around, his eyes flashing a dangerous red light beneath his mask:
“Every opportunity to escape, every escape route, the coordinates of every foothold…”

"I arranged it all myself."

Ron was silent for a moment: "Why?"

"Because the amusement park is about to collapse."

Hector spread his hands, his tone tinged with helplessness:

"When it was built, it was anticipated that it would operate indefinitely; at least, that's what the predecessor Hephaestus thought."

"But the reality proved that... everyone underestimated the corrosive power of 'madness'."

"Those prisoners are severely mentally corrupted."

"Their very existence is like a series of 'concept bombs,' constantly radiating a power that distorts reality."

"Over the years, the sealing structure of the paradise has become riddled with holes, not to mention that one's 'secret manipulation'..."

The clown walked to the window and looked at the distant horizon:

"In about twenty years, the entire system will completely collapse."

"Until then……"

He turned his head: "Hundreds of incurable madmen, their minds corrupted, will simultaneously flood into the Lord's world."

Can you imagine that scene?

Ron could certainly imagine it.

Those who were imprisoned in the amusement park were all once powerful figures who dominated the world—at least at the Dark Sun level.

For various reasons, they came into contact with things they shouldn't have, leading to a complete mental breakdown.

However, due to their overwhelming power or some historical issues, they could not be easily executed.

If all these people escape together...

"So you've chosen to voluntarily release a portion?"

"Clever!"

Hector nodded approvingly:

"Releasing the park in batches can alleviate the pressure on the park and slow down the collapse."

"at the same time……"

The clown's smile became meaningful:
"It also gave us the opportunity to 'defeat them one by one'."

"The prisoners released this time range in strength from Dark Sun level to weaker Grand Wizards."

“I made a special selection; most of this batch are related to the Great Abyss—either they were corrupted while researching the Abyss, or they came into contact with some high-level beings, or they were simply parasitized…”

Hector's bells rang softly:

"And you..."

"It possesses the [Mysterious Gate] that connects to the Great Abyss."

"Having a Chaos Apostle of near-Witch King level as a support."

"Has experience in refining the 'Throne Seed'."

"The key is……"

The clown approached:

"Your ethereal body [Threshold of Darkness] is essentially a 'containment facility'."

"That [mysterious door] is more like a 'controllable prison'."

"You can selectively divide the Great Abyss into zones to house different types of prisoners."

"even……"

Hector's tone became seductive:

"You can refine them."

"Just like when we refined the 'Throne Seed'."

"Absorb their power traits to obtain corresponding resistances and targeted contingency plans."

Ron's breathing became slightly heavier.

Of course he understood what this meant.

When he refined the [Throne Seed], he gained resistance to the powers of thirteen Supreme Apostles in one fell swoop:
Void, dragonfire, starlight, corruption, original sin, twisting, flesh, bones, liquefaction, swarm...

Each one illuminated a portion of the gems on his "empty crown".

Although it's still a long way from being fully lit up, that breakthrough directly boosted the completion rate of his ethereal body by a whole level.

And now...

"These prisoners each possess their own unique power system."

Hector continued:
"Some specialize in time magic, some excel at spatial manipulation, some have mastered forbidden alchemy, and some can even manipulate concepts themselves..."

"If you could collect and refine them one by one..."

The clown stretched out his finger and drew a circle in the air:

"Your 'Empty Crown' will illuminate more gems."

"You will become a true 'hexagon' - with no obvious weaknesses and resistance to almost all types of attacks."

"This……"

Hector's voice became serious:

"Perhaps this will become the foundation for your ascension to the Witch King."

"Where's the reward?"

"Ha~ I knew you'd say yes~"

Hector clapped and cheered:
"As for the compensation... besides the benefits you can get yourself..."

The clown pulled a playing card from his sleeve:

"This is the operating permission for 'The Amusement Park'."

"After you've dealt with these escaped prisoners for me..."

“I will transfer a portion of the control of the entire ‘Paradise’ to you.”

Control of the park... that's a super prison capable of imprisoning or even completely sealing away quasi-Witch Kings!

Having partial control means he will gain:

Partial use of prisons – the right to detain dangerous individuals captured by the prisoner;

Prisoner access rights – the ability to access information and status of specific prisoners;
In some special circumstances, they can even "borrow" the strength of certain prisoners...

"make a deal."

Ron stood up and extended his hand.

"Deal~"

Hector grasped his hand and shook it vigorously:

"Well then... happy hunting~"

As soon as he finished speaking, the clown's figure vanished like a bubble.

Only the black and white invitation remained, lying quietly on the table.

Ron picked up the invitation and turned it over.

A detailed list of prey appeared there:

[First target: Poet Tyronn Vaughn]

Coordinates: Surface of an unnamed desert planet

Danger Level: Peak Dark Sun
Type of pollution: Disorientation of time perception

Note: This person was corrupted due to research on "Time Disorder Entities" (Dominators).

The cognitive system has completely collapsed, and the individual is living in a "time loop" of their own making.

Ron read the information carefully and began to make plans in his mind.

Cognitive confusion... This is one of the most intractable types of mental pollution.

Because patients are often unaware that they have a problem.

In their minds, they are "normal," while the outside world is "wrong."

"We need to see Nari first."

Ron made a decision.

He needs their assistance to carry out large-scale containment work.

After all, while the [Mysterious Gate] can connect to the Great Abyss, how to divide it into zones and how to ensure that different prisoners don't interfere with each other...

These technical details still need Nari's help to refine.

………………

The fifth level of the abyss, the Chaos Palace.

Nari was suspended in the center of the hall, surrounded by countless tentacles.

Each tentacle ends in a transparent cocoon, which contains all sorts of bizarre abyssal creatures.

Those were the "materials" she had collected during this period.

"Baby~"

Sensing Ron's arrival, Nari immediately retracted his tentacles:
"Do you miss your mom?"

"Of course I do."

Ron smiled and stepped forward, letting Nari's tentacles wrap around him:
"However, I also have important business to discuss this time."

"What important business is it?"

Nari tilted his head, his tentacles gently stroking his cheek:

Do you need Mom's help?

"Ah."

Ron recounted the King of Absurdity's request in detail.

Upon hearing this, Nari stopped waving her tentacles: "Oh... is that what it is?"

"Mom already knew!"

"That Clown King even contacted me recently~"

This surprised Ron: "He's looking for you?"

"Yes~"

Nari's voice carried a hint of smugness:

"He asked his mother if they could carve out a 'special area' in the Great Abyss to imprison the madmen."

"Mom thought to herself, 'Isn't this a perfect job for my little one?'"

“So…” The tentacle pointed to a hidden door deep within the hall:
"Mom's all ready!"

"Come with me~"

The hidden door slowly opened, revealing a staircase leading downwards.

The walls on both sides of the staircase are inlaid with glowing abyssal crystals that emit a faint blue light.

Ron followed Nari down, and could sense that the surrounding spatial structure was undergoing subtle changes.

It's not simply "going down," but more like traversing different "layers."

With each step you take, the surrounding gravity, temperature, and even the flow of time will change.

Finally, the end of the stairs appeared.

It was a space that was difficult to describe in words.

Calling it a "room" is too narrow, while calling it a "world" is too grand.

In this space, countless transparent "grids" are neatly arranged.

Each cell is an independent mini-dimension with its own unique rules and environment.

Some squares contain eternally burning flames, some are absolute zero ice fields, some are filled with twisted geometric shapes, and some are simply blank spaces...

"This is……"

"Mom's 'collection room'!"

Nari proudly introduced:
"Each cell is a separate 'prison,' specifically designed to hold those particularly difficult individuals."

"And ah~"

Her tentacles lightly touched a certain square:

"The environment of each prison cell can be customized according to the characteristics of the prisoners."

"Like this one~"

Nari pointed to a grid filled with mist:

"It's specifically for detaining 'conceptual beings'."

"In this environment, all physical attacks become ineffective; only pure 'conceptual warfare' is meaningful."

"For example, this one~"

She then pointed to another compartment, which contained countless nested mirrors:
"Specially detaining patients with 'split personality'."

“Each mirror reflects one of their personalities, and then these personalities are forcibly separated and isolated…”

"That way, even if they want to go crazy, they can only do so within their own 'cube,' without affecting the outside world."

Ron was increasingly amazed as he listened.

This is no longer just a "prison," it's practically a complete "mental hospital"!
Nari suddenly leaned closer, her voice becoming somewhat expectant:

"Honey, if you could bring all those lunatics back..."

"Can I share some with Mom to study?"

"Mom is very interested in the nature of 'pollution'!"

"If we could figure out how they went mad..."

The tentacles twitched excitedly:
"Mom might be able to develop a new 'chaos application'!"

Ron thought for a moment: "Okay. But on the condition that..."

"I know, I know~"

Nari interrupted, saying:
"We need to make sure they're completely 'harmless' first, right?"

"Mom isn't stupid~"

"If those lunatics aren't dealt with properly, it'll be a real problem if they escape."

After reaching a consensus, the two discussed some technical details.

For example, how to ensure Ron himself is not contaminated during the containment process, how to determine the "refining value" of prisoners, and how to classify and store different types of mentally ill patients...

By the time all the preparations were completed, some time had passed.

Before Ron began preparing for long-distance space travel, Hector had already prepared a series of "coordinates" in the invitation letter he had received earlier.

"First target...Tyren Vaughn."

"Set off."

The light swallowed his figure.

………………

As soon as Ron landed, he was hit by a wave of heat.

This planet has no atmosphere for protection, and the star's radiation directly scorches its surface.

The temperature was high enough to melt ordinary metals, and the gravel on the ground was baked into a translucent glass-like texture.

"What a 'thoughtful' place of exile."

Ron activated his Stargazer ability, and starlight shone deep within his pupils.

From this perspective, the energy distribution of the entire planet is clearly visible.

Soon, he locked the target.

A hundred kilometers to the northwest, there was a faint but unusual sign of life.

The energy fluctuations at that reaction point were extremely chaotic—sometimes as strong as the blazing sun, sometimes as weak as a candle flame, with absolutely no discernible pattern.

"Cognitive confusion..."

Ron transformed into a streak of light and sped toward his target location.

Such a short distance is nothing more than a few blinks for a great wizard.

Soon, he saw the "poet".

………………

He was a man who looked to be about forty years old.

He sat on a weathered rock, wearing a tattered robe, with disheveled hair and a stubble beard.

At first glance, he looks like an ordinary, down-on-his-luck homeless man.

however……

Ron stopped a hundred meters away from the other party and observed carefully.

The Stargazer's abilities were fully activated, clearly revealing the "flow of time" around the man.

Then, he saw a horrifying scene:
His left hand is "rejuvenating"—the skin is becoming smooth, the wrinkles are disappearing, as if he has returned to his twenties;
His right hand was "aging"—the skin was dry and the bones were protruding, like the hand of a centenarian;

His eyes were different; his left eye was clear and bright, while his right eye was cloudy and dull.

All of this is constantly changing; every few seconds, the positions of youth and old age are switched.

It felt like I was a collection of countless versions of myself at different ages.

"This is... a 'time distortion'."

Ron felt a chill.

This poet has completely lost his ability to correctly respond to "time".

In his world, the "past," "present," and "future" have become completely intertwined.

Every second he is simultaneously experiencing his childhood, youth, middle age, and old age...

Countless "selves" are squeezed, conflicted, and torn apart in the same body... This kind of pain has exceeded the limits that ordinary people can imagine.

However, that's not the scariest part.

Ron noticed that the poet's lips were moving.

He is speaking.

Or rather, in "recitation".

Ron focused his mind, trying to hear the words clearly.

"...Time is a river, and I am drowning in it..."

"...I saw myself from yesterday, he was waving at me..."

"...I saw myself tomorrow, and he was crying to me..."

"...I saw myself in this moment, but who is he? And who am I?..."

Each sentence is neat and rhyming, but when put together, they make no sense and are just a jumble of nonsense.

Ron took a deep breath and began to approach.

With each step he took, he carefully used the abilities of the Chaos Overseer to protect himself and avoid being affected by the opponent's chaotic time field.

Fifty meters...

Thirty meters...

ten meters...

Finally, the poet seemed to have "noticed" him.

Those eyes, half young and half old, turned to Ron.

"what……"

The poet's voice was soft, yet carried a hint of realization:
"We have guests..."

"Or... have you already been here?"

"Or... you haven't arrived yet?"

He tilted his head, looking confused.
"Time tells me that you are 'yesterday's visitor'..."

"But my memory tells me that you are a 'stranger of tomorrow'..."

"So……"

The poet stood up and staggered toward Ron:
"who are you?"

"Are you an assassin sent by the 'past' to end the 'future'?"

"Or is he a savior sent by the 'future' to save the 'past'?"

"or……"

He suddenly laughed: "You don't exist at all?"

"Are you just a hallucination created by 'the present me'?"

Ron didn't answer.

He simply observed the pitiful madman before him in silence.

On the surface, the poet seems to be able to have normal conversations and even ask some "philosophical" questions.

But in reality... every word he uttered, every action he took, every expression he made, all proved one fact:
This person has completely gone mad.

"Tyron Vaughn".

Ron finally spoke:
"I'm here to take you home."

"go home?"

The poet paused for a moment, then tears welled up in his eyes:
"Home...my home...where is my home?"

Ron sighed and decided not to waste any more time.

Raise your right hand, and the [Mysterious Gate] slowly appears in your palm.

That "door," outlined by starlight, shrouded in chaos, and mysteriously sealed, now radiates a deep, eerie light.

The door opened slightly, revealing the endless darkness behind it.

In the darkness, countless transparent "grids" could be vaguely seen—those were the "prisons" that Nari had prepared.

"bring it on."

Ron's voice was calm:
“There, your ‘time’ will be fixed.”

"You will no longer experience the 'past,' no longer lose your way in the 'future,' and no longer be confused about the 'present.'"

"You will receive... peace."

The poet looked up at the door.

For some reason, his expression suddenly calmed down.

"peaceful……"

He repeated the word:
“I…I feel like I haven’t had ‘peace’ in a long time…”

"It all started when I opened that book..."

"It all started when I recited those poems that I shouldn't have..."

"It all started when I saw the true face of 'time'..."

He stood up and staggered toward Ron:
“I’ve never had ‘peace’ since then…”

"Every second is torture..."

"Every moment is torture..."
"I want to sleep, but 'yesterday's me' is still dreaming..."

"I want to eat, but 'tomorrow's me' will have already starved to death..."

"I want to breathe, but 'countless versions of myself' are fighting for the same breath of air..."

Ron said nothing.

He simply placed his palm on the poet's forehead.

The mysterious gate opened completely, and darkness surged out like a tide, engulfing the poet entirely.

Without struggling or resisting, Tyronn even showed a relieved smile.

"Thanks……"

These were his last words.

Then, his figure disappeared into the darkness behind the door.

………………

The Great Abyss, Nari's "Collection Room".

In a misty cubicle, the poet's figure slowly emerges.

He still maintained the posture he had before being contained, but the flow of time around him had been forcibly "fixed".

In this special prison, time flows only at a "standard rate," neither backward nor forward nor in a cycle.

The poet opened his eyes.

For the first time, he clearly felt the existence of "this moment".

It is not an overlap of "countless moments," but rather a single, pure, and present "moment."

"This is... peace..."

Once containment was complete, Ron felt a surge of information flood his mind. (End of Chapter)