"I'm telling you, it's just not possible... Let's retreat before we get ourselves killed. There are five professionals on patrol over there, and neither of us are assassins. The moment they spot us, the alarm will go off... and then the entire camp will be on top of us. At that point..."
Kane spread his hands toward Punk.
"I have no confidence in playing the mouse, but I'm sure they'll make excellent cats."
Kane sighed in frustration. The camp was locked down tight, its patrols carried out with precision. Though the number of guards wasn't overwhelming, they had managed to create a dense and efficient warning network. Now, crouched behind a bush, Punk and his group felt like mice trapped with nowhere to run.
"Be patient. Just wait. There's always some idiot among the other seven groups who won't be able to hold back."
Punk had already abandoned the idea of infiltration. With a trainee-level professional and four apprentice-level guards patrolling, sneaking in and setting fires was nearly impossible. Their best bet was to wait for someone else to make a move, to create the chaos they needed. That would be their only chance.
"I'm telling you, man, those guys aren't stupid. Why would anyone be the first to go?" Kane muttered, idly tracing circles in the dirt with his armored fingers, his hope for the mission rapidly dwindling.
Then—
"BOOM!"
A deafening explosion shattered the silence.
A flickering glow ignited near the enemy granary, casting erratic shadows as flames licked at the sky. The once-quiet camp erupted into a frenzy. The sharp blare of an alarm ripped through the night, echoing like the tortured wail of a dying beast. Soldiers and professionals alike sprang to action, surging toward the source of the fire.
"...What the hell? Some idiot actually did it?" Kane gaped at the blaze, momentarily stunned.
He hefted his lance, the air around him rippling as his battle aura coiled like a serpent around his armor and weapon.
Punk's pupils contracted the instant he saw the fire.
Without hesitation, he activated Lesser Deflection Field and layered it with Elemental Resistance Barrier.
"Tell me, Kane... Do you really think the apprentice-level professionals of Konola City are stupid enough to act first?" Punk's voice was low and cold.
"Uh... yeah?"
Kane grinned and tilted his head toward Pute, not-so-subtly shifting the blame.
"..."
"Alright, alright, don't give me that look. It's just one fool making a move. Otherwise, I'd have to start questioning reality."
Kane kept his usual cocky grin, but the restrained energy in his stance betrayed his readiness for action.
"If Lunka's defenses are as tight as they seem, there's no way any of our people would willingly sacrifice themselves just to give the rest of us a shot. Which means..."
Punk idly ran his fingers over the ruby in his staff's headpiece, murmuring to himself.
"This whole mess... was caused by them."
"I think it's time to run," Kane said with sudden seriousness.
Without another word, he rolled forward, sprang to his feet, and bolted into the night.
Punk wasted no time activating Lightfoot, his speed surging as he followed the pre-planned escape route.
Pute stood frozen for a second, dumbfounded.
Wait, what about heroically fighting our way in? What about slaying seven in and seven out before returning home bathed in glory under the rising sun?!
But the reality was that the two veteran professionals had taken one look at the situation, said a few cryptic words, and turned tail. There wasn't a single shred of knightly heroism in sight.
Pute, realizing he was about to be left behind, scrambled after them, barely holding back tears as his dreams of heroic adventure shattered completely.
Neither Punk nor Kane had time to worry about the kid.
The camp's seemingly impenetrable defense had just erupted into chaos, and there was only one possible explanation—
It was deliberate.
Punk clenched his jaw.
They had assumed the enemy planned to starve out Konola City, which meant their granary should have been heavily guarded. Find a weak point, exploit it, and complete the mission. That was the plan.
After all, elite professionals would never lower themselves to mundane tasks like patrolling. Lax security should have been inevitable.
But reality was far crueler.
Faerûn's elite troops were strictly disciplined. Lunka had never intended for this to become a long siege. The moment the enemy detected their presence, they didn't try to defend—
They created the chaos themselves.
They baited the infiltrators.
Now, all the irrational professionals in the infiltration teams would seize this so-called "opportunity" to rush the granary, only to walk straight into a well-prepared ambush.
The granary was almost certainly protected by heavy defenses, perhaps even a large-scale magic formation.
By the time Lunka gathered every professional at the granary, nearly half of Konola City's apprentice-level professionals would be caught in the trap.
"Still too inexperienced..." Punk scowled at his own oversight, making a mental note never to repeat this mistake.
"Those guys are doomed," Kane remarked, his tone oddly cheerful as he sprinted alongside Punk.
"If we scatter now, **Lunka—a warrior—**won't stand a chance of tracking us down. But that lot? Heh, they just walked into the net."
Punk's expression remained impassive.
"At least their deaths won't be in vain. Even if they can't escape, they should still manage to set the granary on fire before they go down."
The night blurred around them as they ran, the skeletal silhouettes of trees twisting and stretching in the darkness. Their shadows flickered like wraiths, distorted by the moonlight. The wind howled through the branches, carrying with it the distant roar of flames and the sharp clang of weapons clashing.
Then—
Punk suddenly stopped.
His feet skidded against the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust.
His sharp gaze snapped to the left.
Without hesitation, he raised his staff.
"CLANG!"
A sharp metallic ring split the air as a cold, green-glowing dagger struck his staff, sending sparks flying.
The ruby headpiece spun wildly, tumbling into the dirt.
The blade had come within a hair's breadth of slicing into his face.
The brief flash of emerald light in the darkness was razor-sharp, swift, and silent—
like a thread of silk, ready to sever the night itself.