A young girl wearing bright golden armor walked at the head of the army.
The armor, clearly crafted for a woman, could not fully conceal her beautiful and slender figure. Her appearance was striking—her skin smooth and ivory-white, her neck long and elegant like that of a swan. Under the sunlight, her golden hair shimmered brilliantly, dazzling anyone who looked at her.
Her beauty carried an unusual mixture of heroism and grace, combined with the refined air of noble elegance—like a dazzling burst of fireworks that seemed almost inhumanly perfect.
"And that confused expression, like an abandoned little animal… tsk tsk. A perfect sad princess," Punk thought.
Punk was not the type to be easily captivated by beauty. The girl knight's appearance did not move him in the slightest. After observing her carefully, he quickly analyzed her strength.
There was only the faintest trace of fighting aura around her.
At best, she was merely a first-level apprentice knight.
Punk quickly concluded that even this small amount of power had most likely been artificially cultivated through medicine, probably to help her endure the weight of the heavy armor—which was already causing beads of sweat to appear on her forehead.
"Now that fits the weak princess template even better."
Punk paused.
"Wait… the princess?"
A thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
"Could she be the one those 'special forces' were chasing in the Undead Forest?"
He immediately recalled the group of skeleton soldiers he had encountered in that forest—their tragic fate still fresh in his memory.
Just as Punk was about to summon his Mage's Eye again for a closer inspection, a familiar figure suddenly appeared in his field of vision.
A man wearing green robes.
It was the official mage—Menexi.
Punk instantly dismissed the magical eye.
At the same moment, he sensed numerous magical fluctuations surrounding the area. The instant Menexi appeared, those fluctuations vanished.
Clearly, no one dared to provoke a powerful official mage.
As both the lord of the region and the strongest mage in Konola City, Menexi's presence carried tremendous authority. Accepting such a battered group of soldiers into the city clearly meant something significant.
It meant an alliance.
And alliances were usually formed for only one reason—
War.
Sure enough, when dusk finally arrived—when the small sun Mira sank below the horizon while the larger sun Chicasa still lingered in the sky—Lord Menexi issued a summoning order.
The message appeared in the air itself, written with glowing green life energy.
Every professional in the city could see it.
Punk arrived at the central square somewhat later than the others.
By that time, nearly all the professionals of Konola City had already gathered.
The mages stood together on the left side of the square, forming a small but distinct group.
On the right side, the warriors gathered in larger numbers.
Between the two groups ran a clear pathway, separating the two professions like opposing camps.
The Harvest Church dancers who had previously performed on the stage were gone.
Now standing at the podium was the young knight in golden armor.
Her posture was upright and dignified as she spoke in a serious and firm voice.
Behind her stood Menexi, silent and imposing. His eyes were stern, and he did not utter a single word.
The soldiers who accompanied the princess wore leather armor reinforced with metal plates, carrying simple weapons in their hands. Their bare arms and chests were covered with scars and tattoos, proof of many battles.
As they struck their weapons against their armor, a loud metallic rhythm echoed across the square.
The entire area filled with an atmosphere of bravado and readiness for war.
In sharp contrast, the mages remained completely quiet.
Young or old, they all hid their faces beneath the hoods of their robes.
Their wands rested calmly in their hands.
Their eyes revealed various emotions—indifference, curiosity, contemplation—but none showed the fiery passion displayed by the warriors.
Punk stood among them silently, his attention fixed on the princess's speech.
As expected, the girl was asking for the help of the professionals.
Although their numbers were small—perhaps only two or three hundred people—these professionals possessed terrifying power.
Punk knew very well that he alone could defeat an entire army of ordinary soldiers.
In an era dominated by cold weapons, the power of a professional mage far surpassed that of normal troops.
With magical defenses, even one hundred thousand soldiers would have little chance against someone like Punk.
Professionals were the true power in war.
Ordinary soldiers existed mostly to hold territory and protect civilians.
Therefore, persuading professionals to join a campaign was far more important than recruiting ordinary troops.
Every ruler understood this truth.
Apparently, the princess understood it as well.
But the way she approached the situation made Punk suspect she had read far too many knight novels.
"Brave warriors," the girl declared.
"I am the seventh princess of the Kingdom of Camos—Nasya Camos."
Her voice was soft yet convincing.
Immediately, the soldiers erupted into cheers.
However, Punk noticed something subtle—
There was a slight tremor in her voice.
"I bring unfortunate news," Nasya continued.
"My father, King Nikai III of Camos, has been brutally murdered… by my brother, Prince William Camos!"
Punk frowned slightly.
"Too hasty," he thought.
Revealing such critical information all at once left no room for building tension.
The crowd was momentarily stunned.
In this era—where information spread slowly—the Kingdom of Camos was widely known as a relatively peaceful realm.
This revelation struck like a thunderbolt.
Even the usually composed mages fell silent in shock.
Despite sensing the strange shift in atmosphere, Nasya continued speaking.
Her tone grew more rigid.
"The evil Prince William not only murdered my father… he has also formed an alliance with the brutal Kingdom of Minoah."
"He plans to marry me off to Grand Duke Minoye, a man infamous for his cruelty toward women."
She raised her voice.
"So now, brave warriors—will you follow me into battle? Will you fight against this evil and protect me and my kingdom?"
"Yes! We will!"
"We will fight for you!"
The soldiers shouted enthusiastically.
Punk watched them with obvious disdain.
These so-called warriors were nothing more than fools intoxicated by romantic tales of chivalry—dreaming of rescuing a princess and becoming legendary heroes.
The mages, however, reacted very differently.
They remained silent and skeptical.
The princess had offered no guarantees, no rewards, and provided no clear information about the situation.
Yet she expected them to risk their lives after hearing only a short speech.
From Punk's perspective, it was an absurd request.
Even the hot-blooded warriors would eventually begin to consider the costs of war.
As for the mages—who valued logic, caution, and personal benefit above all else—
They were even less likely to be persuaded by her words.