Suddenly, without a sound, a dark figure materialized in midair behind Punk. At the same time, an identical figure appeared behind Kane.
"Three enemies?" Punk's mind raced at lightning speed, and the azure brilliance in his pupils spun like a miniature vortex.
No. Not three. It's a skill—Shadow Clone!
Punk reached this conclusion instantly. If there had truly been three enemies, he and Kane would have already died in the first ambush—there wouldn't even be time to think about their numbers.
Even as this realization struck him, the two jet-black figures lashed out, their long, slender daggers shimmering with a sickly green light as they sliced toward Punk and Kane's throats like lightning. Death loomed closer with each passing instant. Yet, Punk's expression remained unreadable.
Shadow Clone creates an illusion nearly identical to the caster, capable of mimicking their movements. But in the end, it is only a phantom—devoid of substance, incapable of attacking or defending. Its sole purpose is deception.
Through system analysis, Punk noticed inconsistencies in the energy flow of the shadow before him—subtle irregularities that betrayed its illusory nature. There was an 80% chance it was just a clone. But Punk did not hesitate. He unleashed the Lesser Shielding Spell he had prepared.
Reality and illusion, illusion and reality.
Even if logic dictated that the real enemy should have attacked Kane first to eliminate the more immediate threat, Punk refused to risk his life on probabilities. The enemy could just as easily exploit his expectations and disguise their real body as an illusion.
This time, however, no trick was played. As the green blade struck the light blue shield, it dissipated like mist—just a shadow clone.
"So…"
Punk's gaze flicked to Kane. There was no doubt now—the figure attacking Kane was the real enemy.
Kane, as a knight, excelled in charges. His long lance, while deadly in open combat, was unwieldy at close range. His enchanted armor, while providing formidable protection, limited his agility. Being forced into close combat with an agile Stalker put him at a severe disadvantage.
But Kane was no fool.
In a split second, he threw himself backward, his lance blazing with golden battle aura as he swung it in an upward arc. The maneuver was a gamble—one that left him exposed but also turned his retreat into a deadly counter. If the enemy pursued, they might tear out his throat—but they would also be cleaved in half.
A bet. A gamble. A test of nerve.
And Kane won.
The Stalker hesitated, her toe barely grazing the air before she shifted, her silhouette rippling like a shadow in the wind. With effortless grace, she drifted away, vanishing like petals scattered by the breeze.
Shadow Walk.
This elusive technique allowed her to avoid Kane's devastating attack, but in doing so, she lost her best—and possibly last—chance to finish him off.
Kane, eyes burning with fury, didn't hesitate. He exploded forward, charging like a golden meteor. In a blur, he rolled free of the crater, landing beside Punk in a defensive stance.
Once again, the two enemy Stalkers faded into the darkness.
The battlefield returned to its eerie stillness, as though nothing had ever happened. But the air was thick with unseen malice, and the true danger lurked just beneath the surface.
Punk's face was pale.
Kane's expression was grim.
And Putt—trembling violently—couldn't even stand.
Victory was a fleeting dream.
Escape was the only option.
But the night belonged to the enemy. Escaping from two elite Stalkers—who thrived in the darkness—was no easy feat.
Without hesitation, Punk invoked Mage Shield, conjuring a circular gray barrier flecked with glowing blue runes. Against an enemy that could strike from any direction, a full 360-degree defense was essential.
Beside him, Kane—disregarding his armor's durability—infused himself with an intense, burning battle aura. He gleamed like a golden statue, his lance gripped tightly, motionless but ready.
This was the best defense they could muster.
Even if the Stalkers attacked with full force, breaking through this layered protection would be nearly impossible.
But there was one critical flaw—
It drained too much energy.
Both Punk's Mage Shield and Kane's Aura Infusion required a continuous output of mana and battle energy to maintain. Even without sustaining further attacks, at their current level, they could last only a few minutes.
And once their energy ran dry…
They would be as good as dead.
Theoretically, if they fled at full speed, they might outrun their pursuers. Stalkers, though adept at stealth, lacked the raw endurance of warriors or the speed-enhancing spells of mages. If Punk and Kane could endure the initial pursuit, the chase would eventually favor them.
But the first fifteen seconds would be hell.
Fifteen seconds.
That was the window in which the Stalkers could unleash their peak speed.
And if they had any secret techniques to boost their speed even further… then escape would be impossible.
In a headlong flight, they would be completely exposed—unable to counterattack, unable to defend.
Punk turned his gaze toward Konora City, now visible in the distance. His system had already calculated the probabilities.
Fifteen seconds.
If there was a way to delay the enemy's pursuit, even for a brief moment, their chances of escape would rise significantly.
If something forced the enemy to stop—even for just a few seconds—it would be enough.
And that method…
Was surprisingly simple.
A cold, eerie smirk curled at Punk's lips.