Crashing into the ground had passively destroyed most of the demon's leg structure. The Mirrorkin Fiend now seemed utterly powerless. Punk even considered transporting it to the Faerûn plane through a portal. Though bringing a powerful demon into a world filled with ordinary people without authorization would certainly ruin his reputation, the thought of wasting such excellent material pained him.
However, he ultimately decided against it.
This monstrous being was still attacking frantically, and while its strength didn't exceed the portal's limit, its sheer size was an issue. To drag it through, Punk would need to "dissect" it into seven or eight pieces using magic—a process far too time-consuming. More importantly, most powerful demons possessed extraordinary senses, and Punk was certain that others had already noticed the battle. The sheer intensity of the clash had been too conspicuous.
Typically, mages deployed masking barriers in the Abyss to avoid being swarmed by demons, but this battle had erupted too suddenly for him to prepare such defenses. Besides, he lacked large-scale shielding spells.
In the end, Punk settled for bringing only the magic cage filled with incapacitated Fro demons to the portal. Apprentice-level potions worked remarkably well on apprentice-level demons; none of the feral creatures inside had shown any signs of waking up.
Yet one particularly enraged demon had no intention of letting Punk leave in peace.
As a demon of status, being beaten half to death by an unknown mage—without even managing a meaningful counterattack—would make it the laughingstock of the Abyss.
Its blood-red eyes burned with fury as it unleashed a roar so powerful it nearly became a shockwave. A surge of abyssal energy erupted from within, leaking out through the gaps in its armored carapace. The blood-red energy slithered like serpents among the sharp bone spurs protruding from its body.
Then one of its signature abilities activated—
Grappling.
The near-crippled demon suddenly burst forth with terrifying speed. Abyssal energy propelled its massive body past the sound barrier, transforming it into a blurring afterimage. The force of its charge compressed the ground beneath it, leaving deep indentations in its wake. Blood-soaked dust scattered violently to both sides as the demon—enveloped in a crimson shockwave—tore through the swirling haze like a storm, heading straight for Punk at the portal.
But Punk had been expecting this.
He hadn't walked toward the portal without preparation.
As the Mirrorkin Fiend closed in almost instantly, Punk unleashed his pre-prepared spell. A lavender energy band spiraled outward from his palm, shooting toward the demon's massive claw before it could reach him.
The moment the energy band made contact, intricate violet runes rapidly coiled around the demon's arm, spiraling up toward its shoulder in less than a fraction of a second.
The demon's arm—once infused with violent scarlet abyssal energy—froze completely.
In less than a heartbeat, all its kinetic energy was absorbed.
Behind Punk, a massive purple magic circle materialized, rotating slowly. It processed the absorbed kinetic energy, dispersing it into countless luminous sparks. The purple specks scattered in the air, flickering beautifully as they surrounded him.
Official-level incantation spell—Kinetic Energy Siphon!
This spell absorbed all kinetic energy from an object and harmlessly dispersed it as scattered energy. However, the siphon only worked on areas completely covered by the spell's runes, meaning Punk had only affected the demon's arm.
The rest of its body—still charged with abyssal energy—continued forward at full speed.
And slammed directly into its immobilized limb.
A sickening crack echoed across the battlefield.
The Mirrorkin Fiend released a horrific wail as bones shattered in a cascade of crunching sounds. Flesh and blood sprayed in every direction, and its entire right arm twisted into an unrecognizable mass of broken bone and mangled tissue.
It was a brutal sight.
The demon had been charging with the force of a rocket slamming into a jetliner—yet its own arm had borne the impact. The fact that it hadn't been instantly pulverized was a testament to the durability of its demonic body.
But brute strength alone was meaningless without intelligence.
Thanks to the Kinetic Energy Siphon, only one limb had been stopped. The rest of its body—still moving at high speed—lost balance mid-charge. Like an enormous misshapen ball, the demon tumbled uncontrollably across the battlefield, rolling past Punk in a violent spiral.
By the time it finally stopped, it had been flung over two hundred meters away, leaving a grotesque trail of torn flesh and shattered bones behind it.
It was now missing most of its limbs—a dead man walking in the Abyss.
Here, crippled demons were nothing more than food for their kin.
Punk sneered.
"This guy just delivered itself as research material."
Using Mage Hand, he grabbed the Mirrorkin Fiend's severed arm—most of which had already liquefied into foul sludge. At the same time, he secured the floating magic cage filled with apprentice demons and, without a moment's hesitation, leaped into the portal.
He could feel powerful entities closing in from all directions.
Their unchecked killing intent saturated the air, thick enough to be almost tangible. Staying any longer was out of the question.
Even if the Mirrorkin Fiend was on the verge of death, and even if a few more spells could rip apart its corpse for extra materials, there was simply no time.
If the Abyssal demons drawn to the battle caught sight of him, escape would become impossible.
Once again, the familiar sense of weightlessness enveloped him. Drifting through the void, Punk barely registered time or direction.
Before he knew it, he had returned to the Faerûn plane.
The moment he landed in the Black-Red White Tower, now tainted with Abyssal corruption, the first thing he did was obliterate the portal.
With a flick of his wrist, a compressed kinetic blast shattered the unstable gateway.
As the portal collapsed, Punk could still faintly hear furious roars and the sounds of battle from the other side.
"Perfect timing. Couldn't have cut it closer."
Tossing the Mirrorkin Fiend's severed limb aside, Punk set down the cage full of subdued apprentice demons. He then retrieved a bottle of clean water from a nearby table, blowing off the layer of blood and dust before taking a slow sip.
Say what you will about this plane—compared to the Abyss, Faerûn's environment was truly pleasant.
He stood in the White Tower's blood-drenched living room, encased in a secondary slanted barrier. His robes remained pristine, untouched by even a speck of filth.
But everywhere else, at least two centimeters of blood dust had settled, and the Abyssal corruption had seeped deep into the marble floors.
It would take some effort to clean up.
But that was hardly an issue.