The celebration of the Emerald Festival was truly lively.
The festivities were held in the central square of Konola City, and crowds of people filled every major road leading to it. Even nobles traveling in horse-drawn carriages, surrounded by servants, were unable to push their way to the front of the square. Yet the enthusiasm of the crowd remained undiminished.
People wore various shades of green clothing, and from a distance the moving crowd looked like a vast sea of vegetables, squeezing and shuffling past one another in a strangely comical spectacle.
Punk quickly realized he had no interest in watching the performance from the back of the square. The music—although amplified by magic—was almost completely drowned out by the roar of the crowd.
With a shift of mood, he decided to move forward and get a closer view.
Although the people were excited, they were not yet chaotic. When the crowd noticed a mysterious and powerful mage walking toward the square, they instinctively stepped aside. A path opened naturally as people hurried out of Punk's way.
Thanks to this silent understanding, Punk was able to move through the dense crowd with ease, avoiding the pushing and disorder that normally accompanied such festivals.
At the center of the square stood a large magic-powered horn, connected to a glowing magic circle that blasted lively festival music into the air.
On the stage nearby, a group of nine or ten young girls danced energetically. Their slender figures moved gracefully in flowing emerald-green dresses.
Each time they leaped, the skirts fluttered upward, revealing flashes of their white legs beneath the fabric.
Below the stage, the men in the crowd erupted into loud cheers and whistles. Some even howled in excitement.
Those further back—unable to see the performance clearly and confused about the sudden cheering—simply joined in, creating an even louder wave of excitement that rippled through the square.
Although nobles and professionals were present, they were rare among the massive sea of ordinary citizens.
Punk's sharp eyes—honed by his ranger training—quickly spotted a familiar figure in the crowd.
Kane.
The man was enthusiastically whistling and waving his arms toward the dancers on stage, completely ignoring any notion of decorum.
Punk immediately decided it would be awkward to acknowledge him.
So he simply pretended not to see.
"Looks like he's been promoted to the Trainee level," Punk observed quietly. Kane's strength now appeared to be roughly equal to his own.
Despite his somewhat uncouth behavior, there was no trace of defeat or discouragement in Kane's posture.
The celebration continued.
Although the performance was not as elaborate as the professional dance shows on Earth, the lightness and freedom of the dancers gave it a special charm.
Even Punk—who had witnessed countless magical wonders—had to admit that their movements were beautiful.
Watching the dancers move with carefree elegance, Punk felt the tension that had been coiled inside him since arriving in the world of Faerûn slowly begin to loosen.
For a brief moment, things felt peaceful.
But emergencies have a habit of arriving without warning.
At the very height of the celebration, a sudden disturbance appeared above the city wall.
A figure dressed in dark green robes stepped out from a shimmering light gate, emerging onto the wall as if descending from another dimension.
His presence was impossible to ignore.
The moment he appeared, the atmosphere in the square changed.
A crushing pressure descended over the area.
The air became heavy.
The music, the cheering, the laughter—
All of it stopped.
Only the enormous magic horn, still blaring music, continued to sound awkwardly across the now silent square.
People farther away who had not yet felt the pressure quickly realized something was wrong.
Within seconds, the massive crowd fell into complete silence.
The joyful festival had transformed into a strange, eerie stillness.
Punk immediately felt the overwhelming pressure radiating from the green-robed figure.
This was the first time he had truly experienced the soul-crushing aura of an official mage.
The pressure was suffocating.
Yet Punk had no time to dwell on the terrifying power of the figure, nor could he indulge in marveling at such strength.
What mattered more was why an official mage had appeared here—interrupting the celebration with such an overwhelming display of power.
Punk quickly reached a conclusion.
There was only one official mage stationed in Konola City.
Menezi, the head of the Mage Guild branch.
If he had appeared like this, something serious must have happened.
Then the green-robed mage spoke.
"The celebration is over."
The voice echoed across the square—firm, authoritative, impossible to question.
"All city guards currently on holiday must cancel their leave and return to duty immediately."
After delivering the order, Menezi stepped backward into the glowing light gate.
The portal flickered.
And then he vanished.
The moment he disappeared, the crushing pressure lifted.
The crowd slowly came back to life.
Confused murmurs spread across the square, quickly swelling into a loud wave of anxious chatter.
The festival had ended abruptly.
Even ordinary citizens who lacked knowledge of political or magical affairs understood one thing clearly:
If Menezi had issued such an order—
Something was very wrong.
"Everyone disperse immediately!" soldiers shouted.
"I repeat—disperse immediately, or you will be detained!"
Groups of soldiers moved quickly through the square, forcing the crowd to scatter.
Faced with armed guards, people wasted no time leaving.
Shopkeepers hurriedly closed their stores.
Families rushed back into their homes and bolted their doors.
Within only a few minutes, the lively streets that had once echoed with the joy of the Emerald Festival became eerily silent.
The only remaining traces of the celebration were the scattered grass rings lying abandoned on the ground.
Punk also returned quietly to his laboratory.
But for an apprentice mage, gathering information did not necessarily require walking the streets.
Instead, he decided to use a prophecy spell.
An apprentice-level spell—
Mage's Eye.
A small invisible sphere of energy emerged from his fingertips, glowing faintly with magical power.
Through the orb, Punk gained a second field of vision—a magical perspective that he could control freely for about half an hour.
He carefully directed the orb upward into the air, making sure it avoided obstacles.
Everything the orb saw appeared in his mind as clearly as if he were looking through his own eyes.
However, the spell had no defensive ability, so he had to move it carefully.
The invisible orb drifted slowly through the air.
Its destination was the city gate.
Soon, Punk saw something troubling.
A group of soldiers was entering the city.
The sight immediately felt wrong.
There were no civilians with them.
Their armor was dusty and worn.
Several soldiers were wrapped in blood-stained bandages.
Their movements lacked discipline.
They walked heavily, struggling to maintain formation.
Even though they tried to appear composed, Punk could easily sense their exhaustion.
He watched silently.
Then a clear conclusion formed in his mind.
This was not a victorious army returning home.
This—
was a defeated army.