Wizard: Unlimited Profession Slots Chapter 769 - 351: The Illusion Returns

"Today’s harvest has been quite bountiful, across multiple fronts..."

The Astrologer transformation delivered not just attribute surges but a profound change in his outlook.

From an elevated vantage now, he viewed the world, detecting the profound laws concealed below the veil.

Yet memories of timeline fixes and civilization annihilations still hammered his heart like a massive weight.

"Anomaly Catcher..."

This phrase echoed in his thoughts, contemplation gleaming briefly in his gaze.

Should the Wizard Civilization truly face some form of monitoring, every decision turned pivotal.

Cassandra’s conquest trail, Uther’s cautious tactics, plus the fresh route he pursued...

Leaden steps carried Ron along the hallway.

Dreadful truths about civilization dooms and timeline reboots crushed his mind with unmatched strain.

Every footfall mimicked walking on fluff, his mind's fringes haunted by frosty visions of the Anomaly Catcher’s civilization "corrections".

Sensing his nearness, the workshop entrance parted smoothly, spilling cozy magic crystal glow across his ashen features.

Dale lounged against the Crystal Pool, silvery tresses streaming like lunar beams under the illumination.

She sharply detected her master’s abnormal condition.

Her Sea Siren heritage’s emotion-sensing trait let her pinpoint the marrow-deep weariness gripping Ron.

This went beyond simple fatigue into something profound.

His very spirit seemed inspected by a colossal presence, etching a lingering wound tough to mend.

"Master..."

Softly Dale called, concern brimming in her golden eyes.

She yearned to rise yet feared her eager worry might unsettle him.

Since her bloodline stirred, her sense of their master-servant bond grew intricate.

A nebulous sentiment swelled tidal in her chest, expression escaping her grasp.

"You look very tired, would you like to..." Her tone buzzed mosquito-thin, faltering midway.

"I’m fine." Ron replied curtly, exhaustion threading unmistakably through his words.

Toward the workbench he moved by habit, intent on resuming studies, but focus slipped away.

Chilling visions from the informational realm kept flickering in his head:

Mass breakdowns of mechanical realms, virtual worlds’ server implosions, that Abyss-corrupted Wizard World...

From the workshop’s shadows, Ailan drifted near, her verdant limbs quivering faintly.

As Tree Spirit, her life force detection proved direct and keen.

To her senses, Ron’s vitality had dulled sharply, essence sapped away in vast quantities.

"Master, your life waves..." Ailan voiced anxiously, "It’s like you’ve endured a brutally draining mental trial."

She remembered his state post all-nighters amid Black Mist Jungle experiments, yet none matched this depletion.

Dale and Ailan traded looks, mirroring shared alarm in each other’s stares.

Their durations alongside Ron varied a touch, yet both felt his latest shifts keenly.

This alteration stayed subtle, transcending mere tiredness or stress into deeper... oppression.

An unseen load seemed to crush him, blocking any real ease.

"Master."

Ailan’s tone softened like spring gusts over tender sprouts:

"You’ve toiled nonstop over ten hours straight. Even iron-willed Wizards demand true downtime to restore spirit force."

Her boughs swayed lightly, forest crispness saturating the surrounding air:

"Let me craft a relaxing haven for you this night. Real repose calls, not half-meditation amid data floods."

Dale caught on instantly, easing upward, her Sea Siren grace unfolding:

"Let me sing you a lullaby, a Sea Race heirloom melody thousands of years old for spirit easing."

Her innate Sea Siren allure rang out, stripped of seduction now, pure tenderness alone:

"It can calm even the wildest spiritual storms, ushering true deep slumber."

Ron gazed upon his worried companions.

That sincere warmth, sunlit glow, chased some shadows from his soul.

Companions so devoted in harsh times offered real solace.

"...Thank you."

The raven-haired youth nodded at last, rare fatigue coloring his voice:

"I really do need a good rest now."

Solo burdens defined him, yet this weariness outstripped his resolve’s limits.

.........

Reclined in the sleep pod, Ron triggered its full array.

Air cleansing cycled on, guard runes flared alive, mind-steadying field hummed to life gradually.

Flat out at last, Dale’s soft humming commenced.

An age-old Sea Race lullaby it proved.

Tones ebbed and flowed oceanic deep, each carrying soul-soothing might.

Her voice shimmered sea-moonlit, maternal caress on babe’s brow, channeling race’s softest legacies:

"...Let a weary soul return to a tranquil harbor..."

Ancient Sea Siren words formed the lines, but conveyed feelings pierced tongues’ bounds, heart-soothing direct.

Meanwhile, Ailan kindled a custom tranquility incense.