Emerging calmly from the swirling dust, the boy was none other than Punk, who had just walked out of the Lush Forest.
For the impoverished commoners, the vast, tree-lined expanse of the Lush Forest was a forbidden zone of terror. For the Kingdoms of Camos and Dylan, it was a formidable natural barrier. But for a powerful official mage, it was nothing more than a sprawling backyard. The moment Punk released his official-level aura, it was enough to send all predators scurrying away in fear. As someone who had already mastered several official-level spells, hunting in the forest was hardly a challenge.
Using an official prophecy spell, Punk had easily located the city of Dolaizi in the Kingdom of Dylan. However, after his long and tiresome journey, irritation gnawed at him. More importantly, he needed a quiet and secure environment to study the spells left behind by Menezi. Whether it was the noisy forest or this abandoned, overgrown trade road, neither could provide the conditions he required.
Dolaizi was still a considerable distance away, and walking the entire way would be tedious and time-consuming. Summoning a faster mount was an option, but the memory of his "humiliating experience" back in Konola City—thanks to that idiotic dog—resurfaced. There was no way he was repeating that disgrace.
Just as Punk sighed and resigned himself to trudging the entire way, his sharp gaze caught sight of a small convoy approaching from the distant horizon.
It was a modest entourage. Most of the accompanying soldiers were mere commoners, with only one and a half trainee-level fighters, none of whom were even worth Punk's attention. The hot silver emblem on the leading carriage signified the noble status of its owner, but given such a "low-profile" procession, it was clear this was a noble family in decline.
Punk, unwilling to pass up the opportunity for a comfortable ride, swiftly confirmed that the convoy posed no threat to him. Without hesitation, he decided to intercept it—and test out a newly learned official-level spell in the process: Kinetic Energy Burst.
Since he had only recently advanced to the official level, Punk had yet to fully control his magical aura. Consequently, the unfortunate young noble girl within the carriage was still shivering from the lingering pressure.
Not that Punk cared.
By the time he reached the convoy, the old butler and the mounted warrior were still frozen in shock, struggling to process the fact that they had been stopped by a mysterious official mage.
The warrior, a tall man with a high ponytail, quickly dismounted. However, since he towered over Punk—who was merely fifteen—the situation grew rather awkward.
Unlike the warrior, the butler quickly regained his composure. Stepping forward with a practiced elegance, he executed a proper butler's bow and cautiously inquired:
"Esteemed Master Mage, I am the housekeeper of the Minohorn family. May I ask how we may be of service to you?"
The warrior, drenched in cold sweat, nodded hurriedly. He desperately wished he had some dwarf ancestry—anything to make him shorter at this moment. Looking down at a mage known for their volatile temper was hardly a good idea. He feared that, at any moment, a fireball might turn him into a pile of ashes.
Fortunately, Punk paid no mind to such trivial matters. His sole goal was to find a peaceful place to study advanced magic. Without sparing the butler or the warrior a second glance, he casually tossed them a bottle of sedative potion—something he had concocted along the way—as payment.
Then, without another word, he strode toward the carriage.
"Wait, Master Mage, may I ask if you are headed for Dolaizi City?"
"That's right."
Punk didn't even turn around. With a single prophecy spell, he had already confirmed their destination. Any attempt to deceive him was futile.
Without hesitation, he climbed into the carriage, only to be met with a delicate-looking young girl—and a terrified maid trembling behind her.
"Get out."
Punk's gaze landed on the noble girl. Her stubborn, defiant eyes, tightly pressed lips, and the slight twitch of her small nose exuded an air of fragile resilience—one that might provoke the desire to bully her.
But right now, all Punk wanted was peace and quiet.
The presence of a nosy brat was the last thing he needed.
Of course, he never considered the fact that he was the one barging in uninvited. In his eyes, he had already paid a generous price for the carriage. The ride to Dolaizi was now his, exclusively.
But little Luo Taran clearly didn't see it that way.
As a noble lady who had always been doted upon, when had she ever been treated like this? For a moment, she forgot entirely who she was dealing with and forced herself to meet Punk's deep blue eyes, stubbornly protesting:
"Do you have any idea who I am? I am Luo Taran Minohorn! This carriage belongs to me, and you have no right to order me off it! You're just a guest—"
Punk frowned at the tiny girl, who puffed up like an angry kitten. Just as he was about to release a Mage Hand to toss the little brat out, he hesitated.
He still knew next to nothing about Dolaizi City. If he didn't want to keep wasting prophecy spells just to learn the basics, it might be convenient to have a noblewoman around as a source of information.
So, without a word, Punk waved his hand lightly, using a touch of magic to push Luo Taran firmly back onto her seat before stepping inside himself.
"Wh—What are you doing?!"
Luo Taran yelped in indignation, her face flushing a deep red, a mix of outrage and embarrassment swelling within her.
"Oh, Miss, please! This is a mighty official mage! The esteemed master even gifted us an alchemy potion! You must not be disrespectful!"
Hearing her butler's panicked voice from outside, the young lady was momentarily stunned.
"What?! He's an official mage?"
Luo Taran had not witnessed Punk's earlier "display." But even a noblewoman as sheltered as her understood what an official mage represented.
Typically, an entire city would be fortunate to have even one official-level powerhouse overseeing it.
Yet...
This boy was far too young.
Fortunately, Luo Taran was not the type to throw reckless tantrums. Her family had no official-level protector of their own, so despite her embarrassment and frustration, she grudgingly accepted reality.
Still, as she quietly took her seat by the carriage window, she made sure to pout, her lips pressed into a sulky little line—an unspoken declaration that she was very unhappy with the situation.