Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 680 Odd Jobs Maid
Elena, who is that? That name sounds familiar.

Cassandra gave a wry smile: "Senior, what tricks can I possibly pull in my current state?"

"Who knows?" Mrs. Allen turned and walked into the house, her long, pinkish-purple hair swaying behind her.
"Back then, you were notorious for being 'unscrupulous'."

“They can even use their own daughter as experimental subjects, and their younger sister as a ‘taste tester’.”

These words were like a thorn, piercing Cassandra's heart with precision.

But she couldn't refute it, because that was indeed her past style.

The interior of the cottage remains as cozy as ever.

The flames in the fireplace danced merrily, and various dried herbs hung on the walls—some Cassandra recognized, others were new varieties she had never seen before.

The record player was still playing folk songs, the melody melodious yet tinged with sadness.

"sit."

Mrs. Allen pointed to the sofa opposite her, and then sat down in the rocking chair.

Cassandra sat down carefully, suddenly feeling as if she had returned to her student days and was being reprimanded by Professor Utter in his office.

This time, however, it was her former senior who was scolding her.

"Tell me, how did you become like this?"

“Wandering,” she replied simply. “Sixty-three years of cosmic wandering.”

"Why are you wandering? Did you ruin your experiment by doing something stupid, or did you offend someone in a high position that you shouldn't have?"

Mrs. Allen's tone was clearly sarcastic:
"Given your personality, I'd guess it's both."

“…More or less.” Cassandra could only admit, “During my expedition in the Vital Star System, I encountered an…accident.”

"I was caught in a spacetime turbulence, and when I climbed out, I found myself at the edge of the universe."

"It took more than sixty years to slowly find the direction of the main world."

The explanation was too brief. Mrs. Allen frowned: "What are you hiding?"

"……Yes."

Cassandra lowered her head: "There are some things I can't say right now."

"Can't you say, or don't you want to say?"

"...all of them."

The atmosphere once again reached a stalemate.

Lilia broke the silence as she walked in from the kitchen carrying a tea tray.

"Ma'am, tea is here."

She handed the teacups to Mrs. Allen and Cassandra respectively.

"Some calming herbs have been added to this. Everyone, please calm down and let's talk slowly."

"Thank you." Cassandra took the teacup, holding it with both hands, feeling the warmth emanating from the ceramic.

"Lilia is always so kind."

Mrs. Allen took a sip of tea: "Unlike some people who only use others as tools."

Cassandra didn't respond; she simply lowered her head and sipped her tea.

"Then tell me why you've come to see me."

The pink-haired witch placed the teacup on the armrest.

“I want to...see Eve,” Cassandra said softly. “And Ron.”

The moment those words were spoken, the atmosphere in the room froze.

Lilia stopped arranging the herbs, and Airo peeked out from the corridor. Even the flames in the fireplace seemed to quiet down a bit.

"You want to see them?"

Mrs. Allen's tone turned dangerous: "In what capacity? For what purpose?"

“As a mother,” Cassandra looked up. “I just wanted to... make sure Eve was doing well, that’s all.”

"'That's all'?"

Mrs. Allen sneered, her eerie green eyes fixed intently on the other person:

"Then why don't you go directly to the ancestral land of the Crown Clan? Why do you have to sneak around looking for me?"

“Because…” Cassandra bit her lip, “I don’t want to bother her.”

"If she's doing well, if she really doesn't need me as her mother..."

"Then I'll... leave quietly."

"It won't cause her any trouble."

"what!"

Mrs. Allen let out a short, snickering laugh:

“You know, Cassandra.”

How ridiculous your words seem compared to what you did back then.

"What did you take Eve for back then?"

Her voice wasn't loud, but every word pierced the heart:

"A vessel to perpetuate one's own glory? An experimental subject to prove the superiority of one's bloodline?"

"The professor and I warned you many times not to raise your offspring that way, but what did you say?"

"'I am her mother, I know better than anyone what is best for her'—that's your exact words, isn't it?"

Cassandra lowered her head, her fingers gripping the teacup tightly.

"The results of it?"

Mrs. Allen continued:

"The problem of 'demonic devouring' could have been completely avoided, but because of your arrogance and stubbornness, you almost ruined that child."

"If it weren't for Ron and the professor providing the treatment..."

Her voice grew even colder: "The grass on that child's grave is now three feet tall."

"This is just the beginning."

Mrs. Allen walked up to Cassandra and looked down at her:
"What did you do after Eve was born?"

“You arranged everything for her—what she should learn, who she should know, what kind of person she should become.”

"You never asked her what she wanted, and you never cared about her feelings."

"In your eyes, she is just a work that needs to 'grow' according to your design."

Every accusation struck Cassandra like a hammer blow to her heart.

"Now tell me..."

Mrs. Allen sneered: "You want to 'check if she's doing well'?"

"Are you worthy?"

The last two words were like a slap in the face, landing hard on Cassandra's cheek.

She opened her mouth, but couldn't say anything.

Because every word the other party said was true.

"and……"

Mrs. Allen returned to her rocking chair, picked up her teacup, and took a sip.
Do you remember "The Star Eater's Ramblings"?

Upon hearing the name, Cassandra visibly stiffened.

"That meditation method was recommended to me by you back then."

Mrs. Allen's voice became full of resentment:

“You said it’s the meditation method that is ‘most suitable for those who pursue perfection’, and that it can help people break through conventional limitations.”

“I believed you, and then I passed this meditation method on to Ron.”

Her fingers gently caressed the rim of the glass:

"You should know what happened next..."

Cassandra didn't dare to look up this time.

"That meditation method is flawed. Seriously, fatally flawed."

Mrs. Allen's voice began to tremble:
"Ron later resolved the crisis with his talent and perseverance, although he never blamed me..."

"But I can never repay this guilt in my entire life!"

Cassandra understood why the other party preferred to question her identity rather than believe that she had really returned.

This former senior might wish she could never come back.

"I...I'm sorry." That was all she could say.

"I'm sorry?" Mrs. Allen crossed her arms. "You think a simple 'I'm sorry' is enough?"

"Do you know how much effort Ron put in to resolve the hidden dangers of 'The Star Eater's Whispers' and to heal Eve?"

She shook her head, her voice full of disappointment: "You know nothing."

"Because you only care about yourself."

The song on the record player had finished playing, and the stylus was repeatedly rubbing against the end, making a "click-click" sound.

Lilia walked over and lifted the needle, bringing silence back into the room.

Just then, there were light footsteps outside the door.

Immediately afterwards, a powerful magical force swept across the entire room; it was the detection of a high-level wizard.

Cassandra's body tensed instinctively, and she almost dropped the teacup in her hand.

The door was pushed open, and a figure appeared in the doorway.

She looked to be around twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with long hair tied in a simple ponytail, and amber eyes that seemed to see right through her.

What is most striking is the unique aura emanating from her—a warmth that is both that of the living and the silence that is that of the dead.

"Lilia, Allen, little Iro, are you all alright?"

The newcomer's voice was somewhat anxious: "I sensed the fluctuations of a Grand Wizard-level Void."

Cassandra looked at the newcomer with the same expression as when her daughter first met him.

The power of a great wizard, amber eyes, and that aura that teeters on the edge of life and death...

"Elena Moonlight..."

She uttered the name incredulously: "An ancient alchemist from the last era?"

"But...you've already..."

"Already dead?" Elena smiled. "Yes, I did die a long time ago."

"In the previous era, it was captured by the 'King of Evening Bells' himself."

She entered the room, her magic circulating around her, forming a faint barrier:

“But now I’m back, as an ‘undead’.”

The amount of information was too much for Cassandra to process immediately.

Elena Moonshine – a legendary high wizard, an ancient alchemist, the founder of emotional alchemy, and a mad genius who once attempted to “heal” the entire world.

Her story was recorded in history books and was regarded as a typical case of "going mad" (a state of spiritual delusion). Everyone thought she had died in "paradise".

But now...

"What are you surprised about?"

Having determined that the other party posed no threat, Elena leaned back lazily on the sofa:
"Surprised that I'm still alive? Or surprised that I'm here?"

"They...they all have them..."

"Then take your time to be surprised."

She took the teacup from Lilia and thanked her.

"Mmm, it tastes just as familiar. Lilia's cooking skills are getting better and better."

She took a sip of tea and looked Cassandra over at her:
"Your physical body is severely weakened, your magic reserves are less than one-tenth of a normal archmage's, your life force is disordered, and there are multiple cracks in the very essence of your soul..."

"If I'm not mistaken, you can't even beat an ordinary archmage right now, can you?"

"……Yes."

"So here's the question," Elena put down her teacup, "How did you manage to get back to the main world alive?"

"In your current state, let alone wandering in the universe for sixty years."

Even staying in the main world for a year could lead to death from mana depletion.

"so……"

Her gaze sharpened:

“There must be something ‘special’ about you that’s keeping you alive.”

"speak out."

“Otherwise…” Elena’s tone turned cold: “I have no way of knowing whether you will pose a threat to the people here.”

Cassandra decided to tell the truth.

Anyway, there's no point in hiding it; the ancient alchemist's diagnostic abilities are clearly far superior to his own.

"I... devoured something, and during my wanderings, I encountered some... special beings."

"In order to survive, I devoured them with the [Abyss of Greed]."

"Although I have indigestion, at least... it has kept me going until now."

This answer disgusted Mrs. Allen and made Elena frown.

A surge of spiritual energy probed into the other person's body, beginning a detailed examination.

“As expected…” Elena withdrew her mental energy tentacles:
"You have at least seven different sources of residual energy in your body."

"Moreover, it's all 'heterogeneous energy,' completely incompatible with your own magic system."

"They are like time bombs now, which could trigger conflict at any moment."

She turned to Mrs. Allen: "This guy's situation is worse than I thought."

"Without systematic treatment, he will die within a year at most."

This diagnosis weighed heavily on Cassandra's heart.

She had actually noticed something was wrong with her body a long time ago, but she had been avoiding the fact.

“So…” Mrs. Allen looked at Elena: “Can it be cured?”

“Yes, we can.” Elena nodded. “But it will take time, at least several years.”

"and……"

She looked at Cassandra:
"The treatment process will be very painful. Those foreign energies in your body need to be peeled out little by little." "This process is like... picking out the shards of glass embedded in your flesh one by one."

"However, if you can pull through..."

Elena's tone softened: "At least he can recover to the level of an ordinary archmage."

"It will take much longer to return to the level of a top-tier archmage."

This conclusion left Mrs. Allen deep in thought.

After a long silence, she finally spoke: "Senior Elena, so what you mean is..."

“She poses absolutely no threat to me right now.”

Elena answered succinctly, "You could even say she's a useless person who won't live much longer."

"If you want her to die, you don't need to do anything. She will die from an energy conflict soon enough."

"If you want her to live..."

She looked at Cassandra: "Then we need to give her a 'reason to live'."

Mrs. Ellen understood what Elena meant.

"I understand."

She looked at Cassandra again, her expression complicated: "You want to see Eve and Ron, right?"

"……Yes."

"Then I'll give you a chance."

Mrs. Allen stood up and walked over to her: "From today onwards, you will stay with me."

"To be my assistant... no, to be my servant."

"Doing all sorts of odd jobs: sorting herbs, cleaning utensils, moving materials, greeting guests, cleaning, washing clothes, cooking..."

"Do everything, refuse nothing."

This arrangement stunned Cassandra.

"At the same time..." Mrs. Allen continued, "Senior Elena will provide you with regular treatments to help clear the foreign energy from your body."

"If you can stick with it for a year, if you really show 'change' during that year."

This truly proves that you are no longer the arrogant, selfish Cassandra who only used others as tools…

“At that time…” she took a deep breath, “I would consider taking you to see Eve.”

This condition left Cassandra speechless for a long time.

To make her, a former top wizard, the master of the Crystal Spire, and the patriarch of the Crown Clan... work as a maid?

This is an absolute insult to her dignity!
but……

She looked into Mrs. Allen's dark green eyes and saw disgust, but also a deeply hidden expectation.
“Stay here, Cassandra.”

Elena chimed in, "Given your current condition, you definitely need a safe place to recover."

"Rather than letting you wander around outside, where you might die in some corner at any moment..."

"It's better to stay here. At least we can keep an eye on you and make sure nothing really happens to you."

Seeing this, Cassandra simply slumped onto the sofa in a somewhat resigned manner.

"It seems... I have no choice but to agree."

Being a servant is better than being dead; as long as you're alive, there's hope!

As for her remaining dignity, it had been almost completely shattered during those decades of wandering...

"Very good." Mrs. Allen smiled with satisfaction.

"From now on, you will be the 'errand maid' here."

"The first task..."

She pointed to the backyard:
"Go and sort out the herbs harvested today, classify them by type, quality, and year, and then put them in the warehouse."

"Lilia will teach you how to do it."

"As for your accommodation..."

Mrs. Allen looked at the room layout:

"Let's stay in the storage room for now."

There was a spare bed there; it was a bit shabby, but it was better than sleeping on the streets.

Cassandra stood up and gave Mrs. Allen a slight bow: "Thank you for taking me in, senior."

"Don't thank me too soon." Mrs. Allen waved her hand. "My work here is not easy."

"And..." she chuckled softly.
"I did this partly to test you, and the other half..."

"It can be considered revenge."

………………

The Central Land, the Library of Advanced Knowledge.

Ron stood before this ancient building, which was originally built at the beginning of the Third Age, and looked up at the pure white domes that shimmered in the sunlight.

Within this sacred temple of knowledge, a time bomb lies dormant, ready to explode at any moment.

Today, I'm here to be a bomb disposal expert... This is truly a tough job.

He rubbed his temples and stepped into the main hall of the library.

The air is filled with the scent of books—the rustic feel of parchment, the crispness of ink, and the sense of time's passage on the pages.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The young witch behind the reception desk looked up.

"I would like to meet with Mr. Northumberland Porter."

Ron said politely, "If it's convenient for him now."

The witch paused slightly, then began checking on the terminal:

"Please wait a moment... Mr. Norsen should be in the ancient book restoration area on the sixth floor, but he doesn't usually receive visitors..."

"Please inform them."

Ron took a business card from his pocket: "Just say that Ron Ralph wants to talk to him."

Upon hearing this name, the witch's face was filled with disbelief.

Ron Ralph—that legendary figure who has just been promoted to Archmage and possesses the potential to become king!

"I...I'll contact them right away!"

She frantically activated the communication crystal.

A moment later, a male voice came from the crystal:
“Associate Professor Ralph? What a rare guest. I’ll be waiting for you in the sixth-floor restoration area.”

Ron nodded and followed the directions to the sixth floor.

The elevator slowly ascended, and the transparent crystal walls allowed him to clearly see the view on each floor.

The second floor is the apprentice reading area, where young faces are engrossed in their studies.

The third floor is the official wizarding area, where magical energy flows between the bookshelves;

The fourth floor is a Moon-level data room, where even more sophisticated protective runes shimmer in the air;
The fifth floor requires special access... while the sixth floor is the ancient book restoration area.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a completely different scene.

Unlike the other floors, this place doesn't have a spacious and bright layout; instead, it features individual studios.

Each studio is separated by a runic barrier, which maintains privacy while allowing outsiders to vaguely see the working conditions inside.

The air was filled with the scent of a restorative potion—a unique aroma that blended preservatives, strengthening agents, and some ancient formula.

"Associate Professor Ralph, this way please."

A figure emerged from the deepest part of the studio.

Northumberland, or rather, Norman Davenport.

He looked to be around fifty years old, dressed in a simple scholar's robe and wearing round-framed glasses.

His gray hair was neatly combed, and he wore a refined smile.

"I've heard so much about you." Norsen extended his hand. "It's an honor to meet you here."

Ron grasped the hand; the touch was calm, and there was nothing unusual about it.

But he could sense that beneath that seemingly ordinary skin lay immeasurable magic.

"Mr. Norsen, you're too kind."

He released his grip, his gaze lingering on the other person's face for a moment: "I've heard that you have made significant achievements in the field of ancient book restoration."

“I’m ashamed.” Norsen gestured for him to enter. “It’s just some trivial work. Please come in, let’s talk as we walk.”

The studio interior was simpler than I had imagined.

Aside from the necessary repair tools and medicines, there was almost no unnecessary decoration.

A workbench, a chair, a few lockers, and walls covered with notes—that’s all.

The most eye-catching item is the ancient book being restored on the workbench.

The parchment pages have yellowed and become brittle, with obvious signs of magical erosion at the edges.

Norsen, however, meticulously repaired the damaged parts bit by bit.

Every movement exudes reverence for knowledge and a deep appreciation for books.

"The alchemical manuscripts of the Third Age."

Noticing the other person's gaze, Norsen casually explained:

"Although the content may be incorrect, and the technology used to record it is outdated..."

"But it remains a witness to history."

He gently stroked the pages: "Whether it's true or not, it deserves to be preserved."

These words stirred something within Ron.

He suddenly understood a certain kind of obsession in the person in front of him.

What the other person loves may not be the "truth" itself, but merely the "vessel that records the truth".

Books, documents, archives... all these things were sacred in his eyes.

"You wanted to see me..." Norsen carefully placed the ancient book into its protective case. "It shouldn't be related to the restoration of ancient books, right?"

“Indeed.” Ron sat down opposite him. “I’m here for something else.”

"About 'Paradise'."

The moment the word was uttered, Norsen's smile froze.

But only for a moment.

The next second, that gentle, fake smile reappeared, as practicedly as if he were putting on a mask.

The man glanced at the precious ancient books around him: "Associate Professor Ralph, please forgive my intrusion..."

"This is not a good place to talk about this kind of topic."

He stood up: "There's a restaurant outside the library; the ambiance and drinks are quite nice."

"Shall we... talk somewhere else?"

Ron understood the unspoken meaning behind the other person's words.

Norman didn't want to discuss topics that could cause conflict in the library.

There are too many precious books here; any fluctuation in magic could cause irreparable damage.

"Okay." He nodded. "I'd like a cup of coffee too."

The two left the studio and took the elevator down to the first floor.

As he passed through the main hall, Norsen politely greeted the witch at the reception desk:

"Mia, I'm going out for a bit. Contact me if it's urgent."

“Yes, Mr. Norson.”

The witch nodded respectfully, her gaze sweeping back and forth between the two, her eyes filled with curiosity.

As they stepped out of the library, sunlight bathed them.

Northon led Ron to the left and along a path paved with white stone bricks.

Silver-leaved trees are planted on both sides of the road, making a rustling sound when a breeze blows through them.

"This is it."

Norsen stopped in front of a small building.

It was an elegantly decorated restaurant and bar with a hand-carved wooden sign hanging at the entrance—【Jing Si Xuan】.

As you push open the door, a warm current of aromas mixed with the scents of coffee beans and baked desserts greets you.

The restaurant is not very spacious, with only a dozen or so tables, most of which are currently empty.

Several guests who looked like wizards sat in a corner, talking in hushed tones.

"This way, gentlemen." The half-elf waiter twitched his pointed ears and led them to a seat by the window.

This location offers an excellent view, overlooking the street, while also being relatively secluded and undisturbed.

"Two black coffees," Norson ordered expertly. "No sugar, no milk."

He looked at the young man in front of him: "Do you mind?"

"I also prefer to drink black coffee."

Ron sat down, his gaze falling on the scenery outside the window.

Soon, a half-elf waiter brought over two steaming cups of coffee.

The dark brown liquid sloshed gently in the white porcelain cup, releasing a rich aroma.

"Taste it."

Norsen picked up his glass and took a small sip:
"The owner of this shop is a retired professional potion master who has a real knack for processing coffee beans."

Ron also took a sip.

The acidity is handled very well, with a bittersweet aftertaste, and the flavor is much richer than that of regular coffee.

"Alright...can we be more honest now?"

“Mr. Norman Davenport”.

He snapped his fingers and set up the isolation array.

Norman was visibly taken aback, seemingly not expecting him to be so direct.

After a while, the man put down his cup, took off his glasses, and carefully wiped the lenses with a handkerchief.

"How did you find out?"

His voice, having shed its previous gentle facade, became extremely cold:
"I don't think I've revealed anything."

(End of this chapter)