Punk had no time for further thought—the dark green spider had fully fused, its dominant soul flickering ominously on its forehead.
"Hahaha! Do you see it? This is the power granted to us by the supreme Goddess Tishahar! Even us lowly lambs can attain the strength of an official mage under her divine blessing!"
The believer's soul let out a crazed laugh, echoed by the wandering souls within the dark green spider. Their shrill, grating voices were as piercing as metal scraping against stone.
"Power? Ridiculous. How long do you think you can maintain this? Three minutes? Five at most?"
Punk sneered at the overconfident fanatic, his words laced with undisguised contempt. To him, these pitiful creatures were not only ignorant but utterly foolish.
This so-called fusion was nothing more than a crude form of real-time biological alchemy. Punk wasn't sure what secret technique allowed them to merge without a formal-level practitioner guiding the process, but one thing was clear—this method suffered from a fatal flaw: it couldn't last.
The dark green spider may have achieved official-level strength, but that power came at the cost of burning through the souls of over fifty believers. In five minutes, their souls would be completely consumed, and without that sustaining force, the spider would collapse into a festering pile of rotting flesh.
"Damn mortal! How dare you blaspheme the great and supreme Goddess Tishahar! You will pay for your crimes!"
The soul embedded in the spider seethed with fury. Malice pooled in its eight crimson eyes, the sheer hatred radiating from them like a tangible force. The glow of murderous intent bathed the cavern in eerie bloodlight.
Punk remained composed, but he didn't underestimate the creature before him.
The situation was tricky. The cult's leader somehow seemed to have foreseen his arrival, but perhaps their information was vague, or perhaps their superiors were too preoccupied with something critical to set a proper ambush. Regardless, instead of preparing an inescapable trap, they had simply left these deranged zealots and an illusion spider outside as distractions.
But… regardless of whether they had truly anticipated his arrival, one fact remained undeniable: the enemy now had more precise intelligence. With this new information, their vigilance over the cave's passageways would only increase.
Punk didn't believe his Silent Field alone could keep him undetected any longer. Worse, if reinforcements arrived—especially if another official-level opponent joined the battle—his situation would turn perilous.
"So… a swift kill is necessary."
A glacial glint flashed in Punk's eyes. The cerulean brilliance of swirling magic reflected in his pupils. While dragging out the fight would let the dark green spider self-destruct, he had no time for such tactics.
He swiftly cast Advanced Swiftness. Now, with Distorted Stance, Advanced Mage Armor for defense, and Advanced Swiftness enhancing his mobility, his safety was assured.
At the same time, the dark green spider completed its attack.
A sphere of viscous green liquid formed at its fangs, exuding a sinister aura of destruction.
"Sinner, receive the judgment of Goddess Tishahar!"
The fanatic's soul roared. The sickly green sphere transformed into a streak of venomous light, hurtling toward Punk.
"What an idiot."
Punk sneered. It wasn't that the attack was weak—quite the opposite. But the cultist had made the classic mistake of shouting before attacking. That unnecessary declaration made it absurdly easy for Punk to evade.
Even before the sphere launched, Punk had already moved.
Under the effects of Advanced Swiftness, his frictional resistance was drastically reduced. A light tap of his toe sent him gliding effortlessly across the ground, as if skating across water.
The sphere of corrosive green fluid missed him entirely, slamming into the cavern floor.
BOOM!
A violent explosion erupted where it landed, hissing and sizzling as thick white smoke billowed into the air. The acidic substance clung to the stone, rapidly eating away at it, leaving behind a deep, steaming crater.
Punk's gaze sharpened.
He hadn't expected the attack's corrosion to be this potent. Worse, the magic acid carried an insidious poison—one of the more troublesome kinds, difficult to counteract. Getting even a drop of it on him would be an immense headache.
"Hahaha! Do you see it now? The power of Goddess Tishahar cannot be opposed by a mere heretic!"
The zealot, having just stepped into official-level strength, bellowed with mad glee. The slime coating the dark green spider trembled as its many mouths erupted in eerie laughter.
He was completely intoxicated by his newfound power, blind to reason. At no point had he attempted to relay information beyond the Silent Field or call for reinforcements from the "adults" conducting research deeper inside.
Or perhaps… he was so arrogant that he believed he didn't need backup.
"You really think I can't deal with you?"
Punk's voice was laced with icy derision.
"What… you—"
The dark green spider had been preparing another long-range attack, but before it could finish, an overwhelming sense of dread crashed down upon it.
The fanatic's soul trembled violently. Though he was insane, he wasn't completely devoid of instincts. The moment he felt the imminent threat pressing down on him, he realized—
He had been locked on.
A chill ran through him. He frantically halted his spell mid-cast, his soul contorting in agony from the backlash.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The cultist leader howled, his voice a twisted mixture of pain and rage. Desperate, he ignited the last reserves of his followers' burning souls. Black energy seeped from the dark green spider's limbs, and the creature prepared to evade with all its might.
But—
"You really are a fool, aren't you?"
Punk's sneer deepened.
The cultist's eyes widened in sudden realization.
He had forgotten something.
Through the spider's body, his soul saw it—an enormous figure charging straight toward him, silent yet unstoppable.
The heavy thud of feet striking the cavern floor.
The gleam of razor-sharp claws dripping with bloodthirsty energy.
Glowing, twisted purple-black eyes.
Linen-stitched flesh, eerily patchworked together.
A creature embodying pure destruction.
—The demonic golem, Golem One.