The Laoluk Hotel stood by the southern city wall of Konola, a seemingly unwise location for a business. But if its true purpose was to serve as an evacuation route, then it made perfect sense. South of Konola lay a sparse woodland known to the locals as "Old Nike." Those who passed through it could cross the border into the Dylan Kingdom—a long-standing rival of Camos—where political asylum was possible under the laws of the Faerun plane.
If the princess secured refuge in Dylan, at least her life would be spared. Punk, too, sought to escape Camos, now engulfed in civil strife. His destination aligned with Menezi's. But first, they had to survive the impending fall of Konola.
The wolves moved swiftly. Within half an hour, Punk arrived near the Laoluk Hotel. Nearly a quarter of the building had been consumed by flames. The once-pink wooden plaque had turned into a blackened husk, but despite its ruined appearance, the fire had been contained in time. The hotel's structure remained intact—its weight-bearing beams unscorched.
The wolves came to a halt behind a half-collapsed stone wall, their padded paws allowing them to move silently despite their size. From the cover of the ruins, Punk released a Secret Eye—a transparent, floating orb that drifted toward the street, where three young professionals stood amidst the burning wreckage.
"Low-level professionals on the Faerun plane are mostly young. Some are practically children—possessing strength but lacking caution." Watching their obliviousness, Punk felt only disdain.
"They need to be dealt with quickly," Menezi's voice reached Punk through a simple communication spell. "Lunka's men are all equipped with flares. Don't let them signal for reinforcements."
Punk discarded his amusement. Killing these apprentices wasn't difficult, but doing so silently posed a challenge—especially since he was a mage, not an assassin. After some thought, he decided to target the priest first. In battle, warriors instinctively rushed to protect their casters. Especially naïve, hot-blooded youths—they hadn't yet learned to abandon their comrades when it was the only logical choice.
If Punk could lure them into a cluster, he could finish them off in one blow. His plan unfolded instantly. From beneath his hood, his pupils glowed with a swirling azure light, cold and indifferent.
Dizziness—an upgraded version of Lesser Stun, a spell Punk had refined to perfection. It required only a few incantations and no casting materials. The spell's model took shape in an instant, and the moment it was released, it crossed the fifty-meter gap and struck the priest's mind.
The effect was immediate. One second, the young priest was laughing with the archer girl beside him. The next, he froze, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. He hadn't even bothered to cast a defensive spell. The spell shattered his mental power network, damaging his brain. Even if he survived, he'd be a crippled fool.
"Noan! What's wrong with you?!" The soldier beside the priest rushed forward, trying to catch his collapsing body.
"Don't go near him!" The archer girl suddenly realized something—but too late.
A white blur streaked through the air. Punk's wolf descended like a thunderbolt. Its powerful jaws clamped onto the young soldier, and with a savage shake of its head, it tore away half his torso and a leg. Blood and entrails splattered across the scorched ground.
The archer girl's eyes widened in horror, tears spilling down her cheeks. But Punk had no interest in her grief. With a wave of his hand, he cast Arcane Fire Blast—a high-temperature spell infused with chaotic kinetic energy. A violet explosion erupted, engulfing the fallen soldier and the unconscious priest. Their bodies were incinerated, reduced to charred husks, while the surrounding stone pavement bore deep cracks from the blast.
Yet the archer girl survived. The red pendant around her neck flared to life, conjuring three crimson shields that spun around her, deflecting the arcane flames. Punk narrowed his eyes.
"A Scarlet Shield? A divine spell from the Church of Campas."
The girl retreated, leaping onto a jagged rock. Trembling with fury, she screamed, "Do you even understand what you've done? Noan was a priest of Campas!" She reached for the flare at her waist, intending to signal reinforcements.
But she was too slow.
A pale yellow light streaked toward her. The moment it touched the scarlet barrier, the protective spell disintegrated, vanishing like mist in the sun. Energy Dissipation—an apprentice-level incantation spell. By creating a repulsive effect, it disrupted energy flow, rendering temporary magical defenses useless.
"You think Campas cares about the life of a mere apprentice priest?"
Before she could react, thorny vines shot from the ground, wrapping around her tightly. She struggled, but a second Dizziness spell sent her into unconsciousness. Her last memory before darkness claimed her was Punk's cold, mocking voice.