Wizard: Unlimited Profession Slots Chapter 694 - 326: The Price of Salvation

Her voice grew warmer and more personal, like she was chatting casually with a close companion:

"Plenty of folks believe I'd right away impose a harsh mandate, compelling all to join the conquest efforts. Yet truthfully, I'm someone with considerable patience."

Ron kept up his courteous listening demeanor, while he triggered "Hermit’s Knowledge" to detect the real motives hidden in her statements.

"Reforms demand time, just as hearts need space to adapt."

A soft laugh escaped Cassandra:

"I've set up a three-year adjustment phase for the School Alliance. In this period, conventional scholarly pursuits will persist, and the current administrative framework will stay intact."

"True changes will only deepen once individuals start appreciating the advantages of the updated approach."

Her fingertips lightly traced the edge of her wine goblet:

"After all, imposing alterations frequently sparks pointless opposition. Willing shifts yield better results and reduce inner conflicts."

Eve remained silent nearby, now and then shooting anxious looks toward Ron.

Uther’s form held its watchful position, the silver glow seeming especially deep in the Starlight Crystal's reflection.

"On that note, something amusing came to mind."

Cassandra shifted subjects abruptly, a cunning spark in her gaze:

"Prior to this gathering, in a private senior council, I outlined a strategy for dealing with you."

Ron’s pulse sped up a bit, though he stayed composed on the surface.

"Back then, certain voices called for unique constraints and oversight on you, due to the uncertain nature of a Primordial Wizard. Some advocated pulling you straight into the inner group to block rival factions from drawing you in."

She laughed lightly and shook her head:

"The ideas ranged far and wide, including some rather radical ones. But my reply was straightforward—’treat normally.’

"’Treat normally?’" Ron echoed the phrase, probing for its underlying significance.

"Indeed, treat normally." Cassandra affirmed with a nod:

"No excessive favoritism or intentional hold-down. Handle based on your genuine accomplishments, akin to any promising young wizard."

Her look turned suggestive:

"Naturally, this ’normal’ benchmark could exceed what most expect. Considering your exceptional abilities, after all."

"The reactions from the senior officials were truly entertaining upon hearing my stance." She went on:

"A few appeared baffled, suspecting I was putting on airs; others sought hidden layers; and some outright figured I was fibbing."

She sipped a bit of her wine, a hint of smugness in her eyes:

"In truth, though, I meant every word. I truly plan to handle you routinely—as per the standard perks for a Treasure-level Genius."

"The position and incentives from today are exactly this ’normal treatment’ in action."

Ron started grasping her purpose.

Cassandra was essentially hinting that she was aware he had gained knowledge of that senior discussion via some means.

"The Tower Master shows remarkable candor." Ron replied warily: "Such openness surely provides comfort."

"Being candid is a luxury for the mighty." Cassandra nodded with approval:

"Strength alone allows one to handle the fallout of honesty. This stands as a key lesson I wish for you to grasp."

She set aside her wine goblet, her voice turning solemn:

"Over the coming three years, numerous paths will open to you. You might stick with scholarly studies, or venture into select conquest initiatives."

"I won't compel any choices, yet I encourage flexibility. Ultimately, direct involvement alone leads to sound decisions."

Just then, the steward Sebastian arrived bearing an elegant tray laden with vials of potions.

"Tower Master, Miss Eve’s medication is prepared."

Ron saw Eve’s face drain of color, her frame starting to quiver faintly.

"Appreciated, Sebastian." Cassandra accepted the tray, her manner still soft:

"Eve, time for your dose."

The tray bore three petite potion vials, each radiating a distinct luminescence.

Yet via "Extraordinary Recognition," Ron swiftly discerned the extraordinary essence of these elixirs.

They weren't standard Healing Potions; instead, they were highly peculiar concoctions.

Every droplet pulsed with fierce soul energies, infused with vibes of hopelessness, agony, and terror.

"Mother..." Eve’s tone quivered: "I’m feeling way better today, so maybe I could..."

"No." Cassandra’s words, though kind, brooked no argument:

"Your ’Demon Devouring’ effects have eased, but the core problem lingers. These elixirs are vital to keep your condition steady."

She tenderly brushed Eve’s locks, her gestures brimming with parental affection:

"I realize it tastes awful, but endure it for your well-being."

Eve looked toward Uther, her eyes pleading silently.

Yet the veteran scholar merely gave a subtle head shake, urging compliance.

Left with no alternatives, Eve reached for the initial vial of potion.

Upon lifting it to her mouth, her entire form convulsed sharply.

This wasn't mere aversion to the flavor; it stemmed from a primal dread rooted in her spirit.

The instant the liquid touched her tongue, Eve’s features paled drastically, almost prompting instant retching.

Clenching her bottom lip hard, she compelled the swallow, though tears streamed unchecked down her face.

Through "Extraordinary Recognition," Ron witnessed it all, a profound dismay surging inside him.

The core of these potions evoked recollections of prohibited Alchemy tomes—soul condensate.

With "Hermit’s Knowledge"'s keen insight, he faintly caught the muted wails of the processed souls.

Uther’s figure abruptly sent a telepathic note his way:

"That’s the ’King of Absurdity’s’ method... distilling and condensing souls from sentient creatures into a versatile elixir that curbs diverse mental afflictions."

"Each drop signifies the end of scores of full existences."

The elder’s mental transmission bore intense sorrow:

"Cassandra has relied on this practice for years to sustain Eve’s state."

A cold shiver crept up Ron’s back.

Should Uther’s account hold true, Eve’s routine involved the coerced ’devouring’ of myriad lives.

And this unfolded beneath Cassandra’s tender expression.

"The second one." Cassandra kept her nurturing inflection.

Eve’s frame trembled harder, yet she dutifully picked up the next vial of potion.

The response proved fiercer this round; suppressing the urge to heave took all her effort.

Still, beneath her mother’s watchful eyes, she managed to down it.

"The final one, my dear."

The third vial gleamed darker, exuding a stronger soul presence.

Eve’s fingers shook wildly, the container unsteady in her hold.

"Shall I assist?" Cassandra inquired caringly.

"No... that’s fine." Eve declined, summoning every bit of resolve to consume the last potion.

Once finished, she collapsed back into her seat, visage deathly white, gasps coming in quick bursts.

Oddly enough, her Magic Power fluctuations grew steadier.

"You understand now?" Cassandra addressed Ron, a warped pride lacing her words:

"Occasionally, preserving a life demands giving up another. Yet if the end result proves positive, any interim unease justifies it all."

Her stare deepened:

"This defines the duty of the powerful. We face tough calls, shoulder ethical weights, and yield specifics for broader benefits."

"Eve’s survival matters to me beyond any ethical tenet."

If trading souls of inferior entities preserves my child, I’d choose it without pause."

Ron viewed the display, his tangled feelings hitting their zenith.

Cassandra wasn’t showing outright malice but a contorted rationale.

Within her worldview, the powerful’s priorities overrode all, and kin’s security trumped ethics.

Such reasoning held partial logic, though its outcomes disturbed profoundly.