Wizard: Unlimited Profession Slots Chapter 822 - 369: "Loving Father

Upon entering the fifth layer of the Abyss, within the crimson palace belonging to the Blood Tear Duke, Asmond, Uphemia found the very air thick with a sickly sweet scent of blood.

It was the concentrated essence of despair, fermented over countless millennia. The sky above was like a massive sheet of blood-red amber, encasing the entire domain in perpetual twilight. Jagged, spire-like structures, resembling the teeth of some monstrous entity, jutted from the ground. These buildings were constructed from living bone, their surfaces covered in networks of pulsating veins that greedily absorbed any new pain arising within the domain, channeling its essence to the gargantuan blood pool at the palace's heart.

Most disturbing of all was the pervasive "Garden of Sorrow." Blood Tear flowers emitted sounds like a baby’s cries when sensing pain, their petals formed from solidified tears. The leaves of Despair Grass bore inscriptions of the final words of those who had taken their own lives, and the seemingly beautiful roses were, in truth, cultivated from the hearts of lovers, each petal whispering broken vows.

Uphemia traversed this desolate garden at a slow pace, her white hair drifting softly in the blood-red luminescence. The White-haired Witch’s expression was frigid, yet her left hand quivered subtly, a physical manifestation of the intense emotions she was suppressing internally.

"The last time I found myself in a place like this was…" she thought, fragmented childhood memories surfacing involuntarily. Those agonizing years spent in the King of Blood’s laboratory, marked by needles, strange concoctions, and unending pain from transformations. The title of Blood Moon Clan Heir was merely a grand charade for the world.

The palace's main gate, fashioned from pure black obsidian, was adorned with carved reliefs of thousands of weeping faces. As Uphemia approached, these faces turned towards her, their carved mouths silently voicing their respective torments.

Two high-ranking members of the Blood Race stood guard at the entrance. Their forms were humanoid, but their skin was ashen pale, and their thoraxes were completely transparent, revealing a dark purple heart beating within. "Halt!" the guard on the left extended an arm, its voice as chilling as a nocturnal breeze. "Miss Uphemia? What brings you here at this hour…"

Its words faltered as Uphemia unleashed an aura of unprecedented danger. "Move aside," the White-haired Witch commanded, her voice as placid as a tranquil lake, yet imbued with an authority that made the two Blood Race members instinctively flinch. It was the inherent authority of her bloodline: "I wish to see Asmond, now, immediately."

The Blood Race guards exchanged glances, a profound terror welling within them. It was akin to the innate submission felt by lesser Blood Race members when confronting their ancient progenitors.

"This… Miss Uphemia, I must be frank…" the guard on the right attempted to maintain composure, but a tremor crept into its voice. "The Duke is currently engaged in a significant blood ceremony and is not available to receive visitors. If you could possibly wait…"

Before it could finish, a terrifying aura of bloody killing intent swept over them. Uphemia’s eyes began to glow with an eerie light, shifting from their previous dark red to a pure black, as profound as the Abyss itself. Even more alarming, the air behind her seemed to ripple, as if an unseen entity was observing through a distorted medium.

"I haven't got time to waste, be gone!" she declared, slowly raising her right hand. Dense, blood-red runes materialized on her slender palm, emanating a chilling aura. The two guards, now sweating profusely, were just about to respond when...

The massive main gate of the crimson palace creaked open by itself, the sound of grinding stone echoing through the unnatural silence. Emerging from within was none other than the Blood Tear Duke, Asmond himself. The ruler of the Abyss Fifth Layer possessed the dignified appearance of a Western nobleman – tall and slender, with features as finely sculpted as an ancient statue, and meticulously styled golden hair. He was clad in an ornate, deep crimson robe, intricately embroidered with countless tiny blood-red roses that seemed to sway as if alive in the nonexistent breeze.

"Ah, my dear little Uphemia…" Asmond’s voice, with its characteristically rolling 'R's, was laced with caution. "What unexpected breeze carries you to my humble abode? And it appears… you are not in the most pleasant of moods?" As he spoke, he subtly assessed the unusual changes manifesting in Uphemia, acutely aware of the intense threat she exuded. Could such a formidable aura truly originate from a mere Morning Star Level wizard?

"Spare the pleasantries, Asmond," Uphemia interjected, cutting directly to the chase. "Your recent cessation of the Blood Dew supply to the Blood Moon Clan is precisely why I am here."

Upon being confronted with such an accusation, the Blood Tear Duke's countenance shifted ever so slightly.

He was indeed fully aware of the situation, having orchestrated it himself.

"Ah, the matter of the Blood Dew supply?"

Though his voice retained a veneer of gentleness, his words held an undeniable air of dismissal. "My dear Uphemia, you must comprehend that the creation of Blood Dew is a process that requires considerable time. Furthermore, we have recently faced certain... unforeseen complications in securing the necessary raw materials."

This was unmistakably a polished, diplomatic evasion.

Within the vast territory overseen by the Blood Tear Duke resided the most expansive "Sorrow Farm" anywhere in the Abyss, an establishment dedicated to nurturing a variety of creatures renowned for their potent emotional output, specifically to harvest their anguish and despair.