Putt's death had meaning—he delayed Punk and Kane for a full five seconds. Though not much, it was enough for them to retreat at high speed. The two stalkers didn't even consider chasing.
"Oh, the great Mr. Putt sacrificed himself! He saved us! A true, admirable saint!"
Now that they had escaped danger, Kane quickly returned to his usual playful demeanor. He struck an exaggerated pose, mimicking a bard's sorrowful lament as he "praised" Putt's noble sacrifice.
"There's no need to act sad."
Punk didn't even glance back as he continued running.
"In a major strategic failure like this, the death of a weak wizard is inevitable."
His voice remained cold and distant, the rushing wind whipping his robe as they sped through the moonlit wilderness. At such high speeds, their forms blurred into streaks of light, their movements indistinct.
"Alright, alright."
Kane shrugged mid-stride.
"I'm thinking too much. After tonight's night raid wiped out so many apprentice-level fighters, tomorrow's battle is already lost. Menezi should be in complete panic right about now—who cares about a single dead mage?"
Despite his casual tone, his words rang true. Menezi had hired outside professionals to avoid losing his own "precious" forces, yet half of Konola City's remaining apprentice-level combatants had perished. The enemy had already outnumbered them, and now—with half their forces gone in a single night—tomorrow's city defense was all but doomed.
"So much for holding out a week," Kane complained. "Two days of fighting, and I didn't even get to squeeze out any decent loot. Now we're running away? What a waste!"
Clearly, Kane wasn't happy about leaving empty-handed.
"At least we weren't idle tonight," Punk replied flatly. "Menezi won't send us back without compensation."
Whether Konola City would hold or fall was uncertain. Menezi was an experienced official-level mage—who knew what hidden cards he had left? But after a night like this, he had no choice but to compensate those who fought for him. Otherwise, after so many professionals had thrown themselves into the battle "for justice" and made their "noble sacrifices," only to be abandoned in the end, it would send a message—one that would turn the entire force against him.
Kane understood this well.
It was the only reason they rushed back to Konola City overnight.
The tender season's night passed swiftly, and before they knew it, the first light of dawn crept over the horizon. Faint sunlight cast a dim glow over Konola City, just enough to reveal the dried blood still staining its walls.
Punk and Kane arrived at the same hillside where they had first spotted the city.
Kane paused, gazing down at the war-torn settlement with a rare hint of sentiment. Punk, however, paid no attention to the broken city—his focus was elsewhere.
His staff.
The purpose of a mage's staff was to amplify magic, yet aside from a few weapons crafted for battle-mages, most were never designed to withstand direct melee attacks.
Punk's staff was no exception.
He gripped the neatly snapped end of the staff, rubbing the splintered wood between his fingers. The absence of the staff's **core—the headpiece—**had rendered it powerless. The magic once sealed within had begun to dissipate, its energy bleeding into the air like water slipping through cracks.
Punk could almost feel it unraveling.
The enchantment decaying with each passing moment.
Within five magic hours of its destruction, the staff had already lost its stone-like hardness.
Now…
Under the faint moonlight, Punk's expression remained as calm and indifferent as ever.
He opened his fingers, letting the crumbling wood dust slip through. Its last flickering traces of magic scattered like tiny blue sparks—beautiful, yet ephemeral.
"Hey, don't tell me you're actually sad about that broken stick?"
As always, Kane had a talent for ruining a quiet moment.
"I was simply observing the process of enchantment decay," Punk replied coldly.
With a casual flick of his hand, he tossed the shattered remains of the staff aside. The brittle wood fragments cracked apart as they hit the ground, but Punk didn't spare them another glance.
He turned and strode toward the city, now bathed in the first light of dawn.
On Konola City's walls, Menezi stood firm, his face an unreadable mask, as if the disaster unfolding around him did not concern him.
Yet no matter how composed he appeared, the atmosphere within the city told a different story.
As morning arrived, only three of the twenty-four apprentice-level combatants who had joined the night raid returned—battered and broken.
Even the Kamos Guardians, who had sworn to die for the princess, couldn't suppress the creeping fear in their hearts.
Reality was no storybook.
When the enemy became overwhelmingly powerful overnight, the instinct to flee far outweighed the courage to fight to the last breath.
The city's regular soldiers barely stood at their posts, clutching their bloodied swords with whitening knuckles, forcing themselves to keep up the illusion of loyalty.
As for the hired professionals…
Most had already withdrawn from the city walls, blending into the shadows.
Only a handful of foolish romantics, enchanted by the princess's beauty, still clung to their positions.
The rest—including Punk and Kane, who had already received an apprentice-level knowledge exchange—kept their distance, preparing to abandon the sinking ship that was Konola City at a moment's notice.
Punk had taken precautions, casting a spell to conceal the magic fluctuations on his robe.
He now stood among a crowd of refugees, his magical disguise rendering him indistinguishable from the commoners in their tattered clothes. To the frantic city guards, he was just another nameless face.
He kept his hood low, his face obscured by its shadow.
Meanwhile, a concealed Secret Eye hovered in the air, allowing him to observe Menezi from afar.
Punk still had questions.
Why had Menezi—a seasoned mage who didn't seem the type to make foolish decisions—thrown himself into this doomed battle?
His actions seemed…
Out of character.
But in the end—
"It doesn't matter anymore."
Punk muttered the words under his breath.
He hadn't gained as much knowledge as he'd hoped, but it wasn't a total loss.
At the very least…
He closed his eyes, feeling the fresh surge of blue magic coursing through his soul.
"I've leveled up again."