The punk wizard carried the tightly bound archer girl in one hand, stepping carefully to avoid the charred remains and scattered rubble. He moved back behind the stone wall where he had originally rested. Another wolf, along with Menezi, was already waiting there.
Boom!
Punk tossed the girl onto the ground without care, then performed a formal bow toward Menezi. "Dear Menezi, do you require this enemy's vitality to recover?"
Though Punk lowered his head in deference, his perception was sharpened to the maximum, his entire being wound tight like a drawn bowstring. This was another test—he needed to confirm whether Menezi could truly absorb the life force of others to heal himself. If so, then once inside the secret tunnel, Punk would have to seriously consider the risk of attacking this half-crippled official mage. Allowing himself to remain in close quarters with someone capable of draining vitality was as reckless as sleeping with his head inside a lion's maw—dangerous, suicidal, utterly unacceptable.
Menezi ignored the girl on the ground, who had begun to stir. Instead, he fixed Punk with an inscrutable stare, as if trying to dissect and understand a puzzle that defied explanation. After a long pause, Menezi finally spoke in a hoarse voice. "My cultivation path leans toward creation rather than acquisition. Her vitality is meaningless to me."
"I see… then it was an unnecessary gesture."
Punk responded respectfully, though he did not entirely believe Menezi's words. Still, for now, cooperation remained viable. Without further hesitation, he lifted the girl, who was now fully awake. The archer girl dangled in Punk's grasp, immediately realizing the gravity of her situation. She thrashed in futile resistance against the vines binding her, spitting curses through gritted teeth. "You bastard! Let me go! You'll die a horrible—!"
Neither Punk nor Menezi paid her any mind. Punk merely walked to the edge of the stone wall and yanked the ruby necklace from her neck. His rough handling left a deep bruise on her pale skin. As he muttered a few low incantations, a shimmering lavender mage's hand formed before her terrified face. Punk completely ignored the girl's tearful, pleading gaze. With an impassive expression, he commanded the mage's hand to exert force.
Splatter.
A spray of blood stained the stone wall black and red. With a casual kick, Punk sent a round object tumbling across the ground. It bounced twice before disappearing into the rubble.
"We need to move. The hotel is just ahead," Menezi reminded, his tone unhurried despite the urgency of their situation.
"Understood, Lord Menezi."
Menezi's Hidden Stronghold
The secret base was concealed beneath the hotel's cellar, which had originally been no larger than a pantry for a few sacks of potatoes. Now, through magical expansion, it had grown to the size of a basketball court.
As Punk stepped into the dark, stifling cellar, he noticed the walls were engraved with magical runes—reinforcement enchantments designed to strengthen the structure. It was a testament to an official-level mage's capabilities. Only two weakly flickering dancing lights clung to the ceiling, casting dim, eerie shadows.
The alchemy puppet from the Wizard's Guild was the first to greet them. It had been busy with cleaning tasks but froze the moment it saw Punk enter. After a brief moment of hesitation, it screeched in a shrill, mechanical voice, "Intruder! Intruder!"
Thankfully, the soldiers' response was swift. Two apprentice-level fighters rushed to the doorway, weapons raised. However, upon recognizing Menezi, their expressions shifted from hostility to stunned disbelief. Menezi, levitating slightly off the ground, glanced at his soldiers with thinly veiled displeasure. Punk resisted the urge to comment—he doubted Menezi realized just how terrifying it was to see a half-missing body floating around like a ghost.
The princess was among them. Without hesitation, she threw herself at Menezi, clinging to him with desperate sobs. Gone was the composed, commanding figure who had addressed the crowd in the square. Now, she was no more than a frightened child seeking reassurance.
"Men… My Lord…"
The princess attempted to stop Menezi from moving further, but Menezi gently pushed her away. Turning to his soldiers, he swept his gaze over them—what remained of their fighting force.
"This battle… we have lost." His voice was steady, firm. "But our princess still stands. The spirit of our kingdom of Camos still burns! And you—you still stand!"
"Will you follow Her Highness, even to the ends of your lives?"
"Yes!!!"
The soldiers snapped to attention, their voices shaking the very walls. It was a declaration of unwavering loyalty.
"Good… You are all worthy men. Now! First, we must escape Konola City. But mark my words—one day, sooner or later, we shall return! We will reclaim Konola! We will take back our glory!"
Time was short. Menezi, still floating, moved toward an unremarkable section of the cellar wall.
Then…
No radiant flashes of light. No thunderous rumble of shifting stone. Without a sound, a pitch-black hole appeared where there had been solid wall just moments before. Most astonishingly, even with Punk's sharp senses and magical detection abilities, there had been no sign of spellcasting, no fluctuation of magic. It was as if the hole had simply always been there.
As he followed the eager soldiers into the tunnel, Punk could not shake the unease creeping up his spine. Even in his near-death state, Menezi remained a force to be reckoned with. A true official-level powerhouse was never to be underestimated.