Wizard: Unlimited Profession Slots Chapter 910 - 397: The Great One’s Gameboard (3)

A faint ripple emanated from the emptiness, much like a sigh from the fabric of time itself.

Both Witch Kings could perceive that suppression which transcended dimensions. There were beings whose names they dared not utter casually.

The topic of their discussion shifted to a broader, more overarching perspective.

"The fallout from the eternal plague has indeed made everyone excessively wary," one observed.

Within the King of Illusions' mirage, visions of the Third Era's conclusion unfurled. A continent lay desolate, engulfed by a dark mist, populated by innumerable wandering souls, deceased yet unwilling to pass on.

"However, an excess of order can sometimes prove more perilous than chaos itself."

"This is precisely why we require a certain degree of... measured disruption."

The King of Absurdity's chronicle began to ignite, but as the flames receded, fresh script instantaneously appeared in their place.

"Young Cassandra's descent into madness, while deviating from our projections, at least shattered this stifling tranquility."

"Regarding that young individual..."

In the King of Illusions' reflective surface, Ron's image materialized once more.

"How much backing do you believe we ought to offer him?"

"Backing?" The King of Absurdity's labyrinth started to spin at a gentle pace.

"I had thought we were in accord—to limit direct meddling as much as possible."

"Limit, yet not entirely abstain," the King of Illusions interjected.

"Careful guidance and subtle nudges can help him bypass needless missteps. After all, should he truly harbor such latent potential..."

"If he indeed possesses such potential, then excessive assistance would only serve to hinder him."

A tone of weariness colored the King of Absurdity's voice.

"Should we clear every obstacle from his path, he will never acquire the fortitude necessary to confront genuine trials."

"Yet, complete abandonment risks his premature end," the King of Illusions countered.

"In a contest of this magnitude, a single misjudgment can precipitate irreversible outcomes."

The King of Absurdity's labyrinth halted its spin, descending into profound contemplation.

The energetic undulations in the void grew even more delicate, reminiscent of two venerable chess masters pondering their subsequent maneuver.

"Grant him one hundred years."

The King of Absurdity finally reached a resolution.

"Throughout this century, we shall maintain a minimal level of vigilance.

If he can demonstrate adequate wisdom and fortitude without our direct intercession..."

"Then, we shall extend more substantial aid," the King of Illusions concluded the thought.

"And should he fall short of our expectations..."

"Then, much like countless others who faltered, he shall become but historical residue."

The King of Absurdity's declaration was steeped in profound exhaustion.

The act of observing and influencing innumerable cycles of reawakening eras had instilled in these ancient beings a fatigue that defied time itself.

They had borne witness to an abundance of ascensions and declines, experienced a surfeit of hopes and subsequent disappointments.

Now, akin to two aged gentlemen at the close of an endless series of chess matches, they continued their search for that singular move capable of truly altering the game's trajectory.

As their dialogue concluded, the consciousnesses of the two Witch Kings began to withdraw from this abstract plane.

The King of Absurdity's historical tome gracefully shut, subsequently fracturing into myriad diminutive, contradictory fragments that dispersed into the void.

Each fragment encapsulated a minor paradox, continuing to fester at the periphery of existence.

The King of Illusions' illusory maze also started to dissipate; the mirrors, each reflecting a distinct reality, gradually lost their luminescence and ultimately dissolved back into the emptiness.

However, just prior to their complete vanishing, every mirror momentarily displayed the identical tableau.

A young mage stood silhouetted against the starry expanse, his gaze fixed upon the boundless void.

Before their final withdrawal, their last exchange reverberated through the emptiness:

"Elder Panadora..." The King of Absurdity's voice assumed an unusual remoteness, like a distant echo from the depths of ages.

"We exist merely as observers, not as active participants. Regardless of the outcome, refrain from investing... undue emotion."

"Naturally," the King of Illusions' reply was as gentle as a zephyr, yet carried a subtle undertone of disagreement.

"At times, observation itself constitutes a form of participation. Furthermore..."

His voice grew even more spectral and indistinct.

"Perhaps it is precisely due to our observation that those 'possibilities' are able to manifest as actualities."

Eventually, the boundless void reverted to its profound silence.

Only those subtle conceptual ripples persisted in their slow outward spread, akin to the concentric rings created by stones tossed into a placid lake.

Back in the laboratory, Ron suddenly perceived a slight tremor in the feather quill he held.

He lifted his gaze, looking toward the window, dimly sensing an unseen presence observing him.

But as he attempted to focus his perception, that sensation evaporated, much like a fleeting illusion.