The night was like water—deep, consuming, and terrifying, as if its darkness alone could drown a person. And in this abyssal night, Punk once again encountered an enemy most suited to "swimming" in such darkness—
The stalker.
"Two apprentice-level stalkers? This feels familiar…"
The faint glow of Punk's Mage Shield cast a dim light in the oppressive gloom.
His enemies made no sound. A true stalker never needed words in combat—their only ally was the shadows.
Completely merging into the darkness, they seemed to vanish without a trace. But Punk knew better. They were like vipers lurking in the night, waiting for the perfect moment to strike—a single opening to deliver the final blow to him and the princess.
Meanwhile, the only remaining warrior was approaching Punk's Mage Shield, his expression strangely vacant…
"Poor idiot."
Punk sneered, taking a sip from a vial of night vision potion he had concocted himself. As the cool liquid seeped into his eyes, the darkness around him lost some of its suffocating blur.
His now luminous blue eyes immediately caught sight of the dark purple steel needle embedded in the warrior's neck—no doubt laced with a hallucinogenic toxin. The man had likely been hit before he even realized it.
"So, they have a backup plan to take me down?"
Punk quickly deduced that these two hadn't killed the warrior outright because they were preparing something more insidious.
But he wasn't concerned.
As long as his Mage Shield held, the two stalkers couldn't threaten him directly. He could tell they were stalling—waiting for his mana to run out.
That was fine.
Because he had already recognized them.
The distinct fluctuations of shadow energy left no doubt—these were the same "sister flowers" who had ambushed him and Kane last time.
"How bold… trying the same trick twice against the same enemy."
A cold light flashed in Punk's narrowed eyes, piercing through the dense night like a blade of fire.
"Still just fledgling little devils… They have no idea what a prepared mage is capable of."
Since his attackers had no intention of foolishly revealing themselves with words, Punk saw no need to waste breath either.
Instead, he retrieved a small gray vial from his robe, its contents swirling with finely ground human skull powder.
The moment he sensed a stalker closing in, he knew it was time to use the spell he had acquired from Menezi.
A strange, flowing chant filled the air.
The incantation, like a chorus of ethereal children's voices, seemed to ripple through the night. Yet Punk never opened his mouth—this was the voice of his soul weaving reality into illusion.
The bone powder in the vial stirred.
Thin filaments of dust stretched from its mouth, shifting between golden energy and physical matter. The particles condensed into a football-sized sphere, surrounded by swirling tendrils of golden mist.
Under the soft blue glow of the Mage Shield, this sphere pulsed with an eerie radiance, casting shimmering gold light across Punk's robes and the unconscious princess beside him.
Ever since that failed ambush in Konola, Punk had resolved to acquire a means to counter stalkers effectively. His decision to exchange for this obscure spell from Menezi had proven to be one of his wisest choices.
The Apprentice-Level Spell — "Dust of Revelation."
This spell was essentially a magic-powered version of the alchemical Dust of Revelation potion. However, unlike its potion counterpart, this was a true Descending Spell.
It worked not through mundane mechanics, but by imposing the caster's wish upon reality itself.
The sheer unreasonableness of its function was the hallmark of all Descending Spells.
It was also an obscure and unpopular technique, rarely known outside of dedicated scholars. The drawbacks were severe: a lengthy five-second casting time, complex learning requirements, and zero offensive capability.
But its advantage?
It ignored all master-level concealment techniques.
As long as the spell was cast, nothing hidden could remain unseen.
And now—
Punk had completed it.
The two stalkers hidden in the shadows were caught completely off guard. When Punk had begun casting, his Mage Shield showed no signs of instability—proof of his overwhelming control.
The sisters instantly realized their grave mistake.
The entire Kingdom of Kamos probably had no more than five apprentice-level mages capable of simultaneously maintaining a Mage Shield while casting a Descending Spell.
Yet they had chosen to target one of them.
During the casting, they had attempted to force the half-dead warrior into Punk's shield, hoping to disrupt the spell. But their plan was futile.
A violent shockwave from the shield obliterated several small trees, yet the barrier itself barely rippled.
In the end, the two stalkers could only watch helplessly as Punk completed the spell that would shift the entire battle.
But they did not run.
They were not mercenaries like Punk. They had no say in their own lives.
If they fled, Lunka would hunt them down and kill them himself.
So they gritted their teeth and made their final move—
Slipping into the Shadow Plane.
They thought they had escaped.
They thought they had found the perfect refuge.
But Punk…
Punk was already laughing coldly in his heart.
"Utterly foolish."
To those ignorant of magic, the concept of philosophical "wishes" imposed upon reality was beyond comprehension.
The intricacies of soul-based spells were a mystery even to many legendary mages.
And though Punk's grasp of such power was only at its infancy, even a mere glimpse into the truth of Descending Magic was more than enough to break the illusions of these two apprentice stalkers.
The "Dust of Revelation" had already been cast.
And now—
There was nowhere left for them to hide.