Wizard: Unlimited Profession Slots Chapter 740 - 341: Abyss KPI Assessment (Part 3)

"The abyss is currently teeming with crises, yet you remain preoccupied with such trivial matters!"

The mere mention of "competition" amplified Nari’s inner terror.

It represents the ultimate struggle for survival among the Abyssal Apostles; the defeated not only forfeit their status but risk being consumed by the victor.

Owing to its volatile nature and the inherent difficulty of regulating its own power, Nari found it far simpler to prey upon mundane explorers weaker than itself.

However, when faced with rivals of equal standing, it stood no chance unless it hid behind Chai Ye’s protection, barely clinging to life.

"Furthermore," Chai Ye’s tone dipped into a more somber pitch: "Recently, those damnable Great Wizards in the deeper sectors executed prohibited experiments, throwing the entire abyssal energy equilibrium into disarray. Even the rifts tethered to the Otherworld are exhibiting dangerous instability."

This revelation left Nari paralyzed with unprecedented dread.

Even for an apostle, there are vast, forbidden sectors deep within the abyss that are simply untouchable.

Those realms host entities far more ancient and formidable than any apostle.

These beings hail largely from beyond the world’s wall, horrifying creatures bleeding through from alternate dimensions.

"This serves as my final warning, Nari," Chai Ye’s declaration carried the finality of a death sentence: "If you insist on falling into another long slumber, I will not protect you during the upcoming competition. By then, the other apostles will delight in tearing you apart to savor the energy essence nestled within your core."

Once the link was severed, Nari sank into the darkness of the treasury, suffocated by an overwhelming tide of isolation.

Though cold, Chai Ye’s words held undeniable truth.

Within the cutthroat society of the abyss, the weak possess no inherent right to exist—not even those who walk the path of the apostles.

Nari began to ruminate on the "success stories" of its peers, seeking some scrap of inspiration.

"Mad Biter" Mogron, for instance, commands an entire legion of Mutant Werewolves.

These lupine soldiers possess combat prowess rivaling the Moon Level and exhibit unwavering loyalty.

Because Mogron implants its seeds into their brains, the very concept of betrayal is biologically impossible for them.

Nari had once attempted to replicate this technique, but the results were nothing short of catastrophic.

Its seeds proved far too potent; any host undergoing the procedure would either perish instantly or devolve into a mindless, savage beast.

Mogron’s success may seem straightforward, but it demands a level of precise power control that Nari simply lacks.

Nari couldn't help but envy the achievements of the younger apostles.

Consider "Bloodtear Marquis" Asmond, who, despite being born nearly a millennium after Nari, has already cultivated a vast familial network.

These followers are dispersed throughout the human world, acting as intelligence gatherers for Asmond, sowing discord, and identifying new targets for conversion.

The key to Asmond’s success is a gradual, iterative approach; it starts with simple blood parasites to slowly bolster the host’s physique and spirit, ensuring a flawless transformation.

While this process is lengthy, it boasts a high success rate, often preserving the host's original intellect and temperament.

Nari had tried similar methods, yet it consistently acted with too much haste.

Seeing the slow progress of its subjects, it inevitably injected excessive energy in a desperate bid for speed.

This failure frequently ended with the test subject detonating at the very moment of potential success.

Such memories flooded Nari’s mind, each a testament to its painful failures.

The first attempt, five centuries ago, involved an exploration team of Morning Star Wizards.

At that stage in its life, Nari was reckless and possessed crude command over its influence.

It foolishly believed that forcing its abyssal essence into their bodies would instinctively forge them into loyal thralls.

The outcome was a slaughter.

The abyssal power was far too volatile for common lifeforms, causing instantaneous, uncontrollable mutation upon contact.

Muscles bulged in chaotic patterns, veins ruptured and reformed, and skeletons twisted into jagged shapes.

Within moments, all five explorers were reduced to a heaped mound of gore and flesh, their demise marked by wretched screams.

"Why... why has this happened?"

Back then, Nari surveyed the carnage, incapable of grasping why a feat other apostles accomplished with ease felt so impossible for its own hands.

The second attempt occurred three hundred years later; having learned from its prior failure, it targeted a much stronger Moon Level Mage.

This time, it avoided direct infusion, opting instead for a "gentle" transformation utilizing a spiritual tether.

Initial progress appeared promising.

The target showed no signs of rejection, and the psychic bond stabilized nicely.

Nari eagerly began transmitting fragments of its own consciousness, hoping to slowly recalibrate the mage’s thought patterns.

Inevitably, complications arose.

Nari’s own essence was too inherently erratic, triggering violent cognitive dissonance once it entered the mage’s mental plane.

The mage’s logical faculties began to fracture under the sudden, chaotic pressure.

As memory fragments were scattered and the personality core disintegrated, the mage’s mind was left in ruins.

Though the physical form remained intact, the mage was left an intellectual shell, laughing mindlessly and occasionally muttering nonsensical phrases tainted by the lingering scraps of Nari’s own stray consciousness.

"You absolute fool... look at what you’ve done to such a rare specimen," the "Bloodtear Marquis" Asmond sneered upon discovering the failure. "I’ve witnessed many botched efforts, but turning a Moon Level Mage into a lobotomized wreck is a first."

Nari remained silent, forced to watch the worthless failure before inevitably ending the mage’s life, burying the dream of a "gentle" transition alongside him.

The third attempt, just decades ago, saw Nari adopting the "chronic erosion" strategy suggested by its peers.

It painstakingly selected a mage, sealed him within a specialized biological cage, and administered daily, measured doses of abyssal energy.

This method proved far more stable; neither the subject’s body nor his mind collapsed immediately.

Nari observed the incremental changes in its prisoner day by day.

The skin began to take on the dark purple hue of the abyss, the eyes occasionally flickered with chaotic intent, and the thought patterns exhibited subtle shifts.

Convinced that it had finally mastered the process, Nari began to prepare for the joy of seeing its first subordinate emerge.

It even furnished a living space for the "soon-to-be-thrall," decorating it with various trinkets it found aesthetically pleasing.

But calamity struck anyway.

While stable, chronic erosion offered the target sufficient time to adapt and formulate a resistance.

The mage was a specialist in alchemy.

Over the course of the transformation, he managed to decipher the cage’s mechanics, learning to augment his own power using the very abyssal energy meant to corrupt him.

On the seventy-third day, while Nari was out hunting, the mage successfully bypassed the biological locks and escaped.

He even took the time to intentionally smash one of Nari’s most cherished music boxes.

A furious Nari launched a manhunt, but the target had vanished entirely.

"Why... why must I constantly fail?"

Those three failures nearly shattered Nari’s desire to cultivate a following.

Whenever it observed other apostles assembling their cohorts, it would retreat into the depths of its lair, pretending that its isolation was a matter of choice.

However, with the competition looming, Nari knew it had run out of time.

Just as Nari teetered on the brink of despair, a strange phenomenon stirred within the treasury.

Around the cocoon that held the mysterious puppet, abyssal energy began to cluster in an unprecedented fashion.

Instead of the typical chaos, the energy swirled into rhythmic, orderly spirals, as if preparing for a primeval ritual.

More baffling was the soft, pure glow radiating from the surface of the puppet.

It was not the twisted radiance typical of the abyss, but a gentle energy that instilled in Nari a sense of rare, calm clarity.

"What is this?" Nari halted its self-pity, watching the miraculous event with fixated intensity.

Never in its long existence had it witnessed abyssal energy behaving with such deliberate order.

Perhaps, at long last, fate had bestowed upon it a unique blessing.

Deep within the depths of its massive, fearsome eyes, the flicker of hope began to reignite.