Punk had been keen to identify the first major flaw in Flesh Golem No. 1—its complete lack of stealth.
Its massive frame meant immense weight, and combined with its rigid, mechanical movements, every action it took produced an unavoidable racket. Thunderous footsteps, tremors spreading through the ground, and the booming shock of each landing echoed like a relentless war drum.
Even if someone were to cast invisibility on the creature, Punk had no doubt its location could still be tracked easily—simply by following the enormous footprints stamped into the earth behind it.
While he pondered possible ways to mitigate this weakness, Golem No. 1 had already reached the abandoned houses at the foot of the mountain.
Because Punk had ordered it to act quickly, the construct had leapt straight down the hillside, crashing into the ground with enough force to kick up half-meter clouds of dust and carve deep craters into the soil.
The reckless descent naturally caused a deafening commotion.
If the fleeing "mice" hadn't noticed its arrival by now, they were truly beyond saving.
Inside the White Tower, Punk casually took a sip of tea. The enemies in this test were laughably weak, practically incapable of resisting at all, so there was no real way to evaluate Golem No. 1's offensive power.
However, its tracking and pursuit abilities were still worth testing.
At the foot of the mountain, the golem halted and stood still, silently awaiting further instructions.
The world itself seemed asleep. The land rested in quiet stillness, disturbed only by the occasional whisper of wind passing through ruined houses.
Under a starless sky, the darkness stretched endlessly, thick and oppressive—as though the heavens themselves had been drenched in ink. The three moons hid behind dense clouds, leaving the land submerged in a deep, endless blue gloom.
Cold winds drifted through the skeletal remains of buildings, carrying faint, ghostly wails that only amplified the eerie silence of the night.
Then Punk issued a command.
Begin the search.
The golem's blood-red eyes ignited with a predatory glow. Without hesitation it strode toward the nearest ruined house, its enormous body smashing effortlessly through the weakened wooden walls that had long been corroded by abyssal energy.
Rotten planks shattered and scattered across the floor as the creature stepped inside.
Its demonic eyes granted excellent night vision, allowing it to move through the darkness with ease.
However, while Golem No. 1 understood the command "search," it possessed no refined method to carry it out.
It simply bulldozed into each structure, swept the area with a quick glance, and then moved on to the next building.
"It didn't even check the inner rooms…"
Punk rubbed his temples and sighed in mild irritation. He had never expected a golem to possess real investigative skill, yet the creature's incompetence was still irritating.
With its damaged soul and almost nonexistent intelligence, Golem No. 1 couldn't grasp even the most basic concept of tracking. It never thought to look under furniture or inside chests. To its simple mind, "searching" meant nothing more than looking at whatever happened to be in plain sight.
Shaking his head, Punk quickly abandoned any hope of refining its investigative ability.
The construct's cognitive capacity was barely superior to that of an insect.
Recognizing the futility of relying on its instincts, he canceled the search directive entirely.
The golem's role was now perfectly clear: it was nothing more than a remote-controlled mass of flesh and steel. If a real crisis ever occurred, trusting it to make independent decisions would be a complete joke.
By the time the painfully inefficient search had dragged on for several hours, dawn was already beginning to creep over the horizon.
Punk had no intention of continuing this pointless game of hide-and-seek.
With a brief gesture, he cast a simple prophecy spell, instantly revealing the fugitives' exact location.
"A group of ignorant fools still hiding in a house… Do they really think Golem No. 1 can't find them?"
A faint smirk appeared on Punk's lips.
Now that he had precise coordinates, the golem no longer needed to wander around blindly. It smashed through several more walls and marched straight toward the crumbling building where the fugitives were hiding.
The faint glow of morning was already erasing the last traces of night.
But for the desperate slaves, this sunrise would be their last.
Tomorrow, a new shipment of slaves would arrive in Taran. Punk had no interest in wasting time recapturing this group. Killing them would be far more efficient.
When Golem No. 1 reached the entrance of the ruined house, its towering body blocked the cold wind rattling the fragile wooden walls.
Only then did the exhausted fugitives realize their hiding place had been completely meaningless.
Desperation ignited in their hollow, sunken eyes.
Three of them gathered the last scraps of strength in their bodies and attempted to escape through a collapsed window. They tumbled into the yard, landing on blackened, blood-stained earth, scrambling desperately on hands and knees.
But…
They never even made it past the fence.
Watching through his connection with the golem, Punk observed the pitiful sight of the skeletal slaves dragging themselves across the ground.
Their escape was so painfully slow that it barely stirred even the faintest instinct to chase.
"Attack."
Punk's command was calm and cold.
Let Golem No. 1 finish them.
The golem obeyed instantly.
However, instead of lunging forward with its razor-sharp claws, it suddenly stopped. Its muscles didn't tense, and its arms didn't move to strike.
Instead, its grotesque mouth slowly opened, revealing rows of jagged teeth.
Deep inside its throat, the spell matrix embedded within its body began to spin rapidly.
"Official-level fixed spell — Acid Gush."
"…What in the abyss…?"
Punk's expression darkened immediately.
His order had been to tear them apart, not to waste one of the golem's five daily offensive spells on a handful of dying mortals. Using such a high-level spell on trivial prey was an absurd waste of resources.
The golem's lack of intelligence was becoming increasingly unbearable.
"It seems I'll need to add stricter behavioral restrictions. Even if that makes the golem predictable, it's still better than dealing with a mindless brute that can't properly execute a simple command."
His mana-infused eyes glimmered with cold calculation.
The test had revealed many flaws.
But at least now, Punk had new ideas for improvement.