"Hnnnghh~~"
"Ow~~ that hurts…"
Bilan and Diccido whimpered as they rubbed their foreheads, their tearful expressions making them look like pitiful children who had just been scolded.
If this were some ridiculous stage play, smoke would probably be puffing from their heads in exaggerated indignation.
Bilan, still teary-eyed, was utterly bewildered.
She had braced herself for death, expecting to be reduced to ashes on the spot.
Yet not only had she escaped punishment, but she had also received words of forgiveness.
Was she so terrified that she had begun hallucinating, or was there some deeper conspiracy behind this unfathomable mage's actions?
Unlike Bilan's tangled thoughts, Diccido's first reaction was a wave of relief.
He looked at Punk hesitantly and asked in a trembling voice:
"So… does this mean you forgive us, my lord?"
Punk almost scoffed at the boy's absurd assumption.
"Us"?
Since when were you and Bilan on equal footing?
He didn't recall ever accepting two apprentices.
Though the thought was dismissive, his outward demeanor remained as cold and indifferent as ever.
In a monotone voice, he replied:
"Hmph, forgiven. The mess you made of my experiment platform was an inconvenience, but since it was done in an effort to save lives, I'll overlook it."
Though his tone was flat and devoid of warmth, in the ears of the two trembling youths it sounded like the voice of a merciful deity.
Bilan gasped, her eyes widening in shock before welling with fresh tears.
"Thank you, Mentor! Thank you so much!"
Even though a lingering sense of unease told her something was amiss, the sheer relief of escaping certain doom was enough for her to let it go.
"I knew it! I knew Lord Mage wasn't as heartless as you made him out to be, Bilan!" Diccido cheered, flashing a bright, boyish grin. "You just don't understand him!"
Bilan frowned slightly.
She still wasn't convinced, but Diccido's optimism was infectious.
Punk, on the other hand, found this entire exchange utterly tiresome.
"Enough. Bilan, are you ill?"
He feigned concern, observing her condition with a slight tilt of his head.
Bilan hesitated before nodding.
"Y-Yes, Mentor…"
Punk nodded absently.
"And who allowed you to follow the refugees here? I should express my gratitude to them."
His question sounded casual, as if it had just crossed his mind.
But in reality, Punk had already identified the one responsible—Keskarser, the knight commander of Dolazi.
Through his divination spells, he had determined that this man was the only one in the city truly concerned for the refugees.
Moreover, as a high-ranking knight, Keskarser could be useful.
Punk planned to use this moment to subtly weave a hidden blade into his grander schemes.
Before Bilan could respond, a confident voice rang out from the crowd.
"No need, my lord. As her mentor, it is only natural for you to be concerned about your apprentice."
The speaker emerged from the gathering onlookers.
It was Keskarser, clad in his full set of armor, each step he took exuding a knight's discipline and authority.
His armor clanked heavily as he strode forward, his gaze calm yet firm.
On the Faerûnian plane, where societal hierarchy was absolute, the poor knew better than to challenge the privileged, and inequality was never disguised.
Keskarser's tone was not flattery, nor was it forced.
It was simply a statement of fact.
The civilians nearby remained silent.
Even Diccido and Bilan couldn't help but frown slightly at the words.
Punk, however, couldn't care less about such trivialities.
He shrugged nonchalantly before tossing a small glass vial toward Keskarser.
The bottle gleamed with a silvery shimmer, its contents appearing as mundane as boiled water.
"This is a token of my appreciation. While I have no interest in developing a cure for the plague, I do possess some knowledge of alchemical medicine."
His words carried an unspoken message—
Don't bother asking me for an antidote.
Bilan bit her lip, her disappointment evident.
But Keskarser merely sighed in understanding.
He had never truly expected Punk to create a cure on short notice, so he accepted the reality without complaint.
When the vial flew toward him, he instinctively reached out, catching it with both hands and holding it as if it were a priceless treasure.
"Thank you, Lord Sai'an."
The knight commander bowed deeply, his voice brimming with gratitude.
He had recognized the potion immediately—
An apprentice-level Fighting Aura Surge Elixir.
A coveted item among knights.
Though seemingly simple, this elixir could increase the circulation of an apprentice warrior's battle aura by 5%(with a cap of 10%).
It was an incredibly rare potion, difficult even for master alchemists to craft.
Even high-ranking knights like himself had struggled to acquire one.
To receive such a gift from an official-level mage was an honor beyond measure.
Punk waved a hand dismissively.
"Think nothing of it. You've earned it."
His expression remained unreadable.
But deep inside, he sneered at the knight's naive gratitude.
The potion was indeed real.
But Punk had made some modifications.
The special "ingredient" he had added would remain undetectable, perfectly dormant within the knight's body—
Until the moment Punk decided to activate it.
When that time came…
Keskarser's fate would be sealed.
Even now, as he watched the knight clutch the vial with reverence, Punk found himself scoffing internally.
"If you're foolish enough to drink a gift from a mage without question, then you deserve whatever happens to you."
Satisfied with this carefully laid trap, Punk turned his attention to his next objective.
He had come to Dolazi for one reason—
To seek an alliance against Tishachar.
According to his divinations, his journey would not proceed smoothly, which was precisely why he had acted so swiftly.
Before departing, he casually tossed a modified apprentice-level robe to Bilan, further cementing her and Keskarser's misplaced trust in him.
Bilan clutched the robe in her hands, her conflicted emotions bubbling to the surface.
Had she misjudged her mentor all this time?
Was his strictness nothing more than a misunderstood form of guidance?
She wanted to believe it.
She needed to believe it.
No matter how her instincts screamed otherwise, she clung to the idea that maybe… just maybe… she had been wrong about him.
Of course, no one realized that this robe, too, had been tampered with.
Should Bilan ever dare to betray him, the consequences would be…
Unfortunate.
With his preparations complete, Punk turned away from the oblivious fools, striding toward the towering walls of Dolazi.
"Fools are in abundance these days."
"If only there were more swindlers to take advantage of them."