"What… what the hell happened here?!"
Kang Kai stared at Dolize City in shock, his face filled with nothing but disbelief.
The once peaceful city was now engulfed in chaos. The gates were littered with corpses, and the tranquil scene Kang Kai had envisioned was nowhere to be found.
Even Punk hadn't anticipated this. They had only been gone for a day, yet upon their return, Dolize had turned into a battlefield. Raging fires and thick black smoke rose from the city, visible even from several kilometers away.
"Punk, does your prophecy spell show anything?"
Kang Kai turned to Punk anxiously. Bahanger, though usually prone to rambling, remained silent, his worry focused entirely on Goulart's fate.
Only Punk, calm and composed, activated his magic. His indifference wasn't an act—he genuinely felt no concern for Dolize City's fate. In fact, he found the situation rather amusing.
After all, Kang Kai wouldn't stand idly by while the city burned. And that meant distractions—distractions that Punk could exploit.
"Perhaps it's time for a more… efficient arrangement. I should prepare a grand trap for this fool."
A cold glint flickered in Punk's eyes as he glanced at Kang Kai.
Before long, the results of his prophecy spell became clear, and the reason behind Dolize City's turmoil was laid bare.
It turned out that the noble families, rather than providing relief, had hoarded their food supplies. When the starving refugees finally rose up in desperation, the nobles—rather than surrendering their hoard—chose to burn it all. This sparked an all-out riot, with thousands of enraged commoners turning against their rulers.
As he processed this revelation, Kang Kai's expression darkened.
Bahanger, however, was more concerned about the exploding cultists. He knew firsthand how useless the city guards were—expecting those thugs to protect their lord was laughable. Unable to move from his injuries, he roared furiously from Kang Kai's back:
"By Moradin! Even in death, that damn Tishachar is still causing me trouble! I should've jammed my hammer straight into her cursed—!"
But there was no time to waste. Though each of them had their own motives, the three pressed on toward Dolize City without delay.
And that was when they encountered them.
A mob of roughly 2,000 refugees had gathered in the city streets, surrounding a trio of nobles bound together like livestock.
A tall, emaciated man stood at the center of the crowd, clad in stolen armor far too large for his frame. He brandished a crude whip, lashing it mercilessly against the nobles—a fat middle-aged man, a young woman, and a little girl.
Judging by their attire, they were of minor nobility, fallen from grace.
"Hahaha! How does it feel, huh? This is what you did to us, wasn't it?!"
The whip cracked through the air, leaving deep, bloody welts on the woman and the child.
The crowd erupted into cheers, jeering and laughing as if they were watching an amusing performance. The man, basking in their approval, struck with greater and greater force.
Even as the nobles lay dying at his feet, he did not stop.
But someone was about to make him stop.
Forever.
"Who gave you the right to do this?!"
Kang Kai's voice rang out like a thunderclap.
A breeze-like blade of aura sliced through the air, severing the whip-wielding man's arm as if it were paper.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
"AAAAAAAGH! MY HAND! MY HAND!"
The man collapsed, shrieking in agony as blood gushed from his severed limb.
Panic spread through the mob.
Moments ago, they had been the ones in power, reveling in their newfound dominance over their former oppressors. But now, the tables had turned.
"Professionals! They're professionals!"
The fear in their voices was palpable. They had only dared to challenge the nobles because those nobles were defenseless. But in the face of true power, they were nothing.
The crowd wavered, ready to scatter—until an aged but commanding voice rang out.
"Stand your ground! There are over three thousand of us! Even professionals cannot stand against such numbers! Didn't we already kill the two guards protecting this noble scum? And if we don't find their treasures, are you all prepared to starve?"
At this, the mob hesitated.
They were lost, directionless—caught in the whirlwind of events beyond their control. They had suffered through disease, rebellion, and bloodshed, and they had crossed a line they never imagined they could cross.
They had killed nobles.
There was no going back.
And so, they grasped their makeshift weapons with trembling hands, turning fierce eyes toward Punk and the others.
"Tch. Foolish vermin. They march toward death of their own accord."
Punk sneered.
This was perfect.
He was still recovering, and what better way to speed up the process than a feast of fresh souls? These idiots had delivered themselves right to his doorstep.
Kang Kai, on the other hand, paid them no mind.
Instead, he moved with ghostly speed, retrieving the wounded nobles in the blink of an eye. His hands trembled slightly as he lifted the small, lifeless body of the girl.
She was already dead.
No potion could bring her back.
Even so, he gently brushed his fingers across the scars on her face, his expression unreadable.
"It seems that, in the end, human nature requires order to restrain it. Without it… only tragedy remains."
With solemn reverence, he cradled the child's corpse in his arms.
He did not pray—he simply mourned.
"Hah. What a troublesome fool."
Punk cast a disdainful glance at Kang Kai.
This so-called Ranger was beyond salvation. He had been utterly brainwashed by Obai's doctrines—touching corpses without even checking them first? It would be laughably easy to poison or trap him.
A small smirk curled at Punk's lips.
"I won't even need a complex plan to ensnare him. A simple kidnapping will do. He'll throw himself into my trap without hesitation."
But that was for later.
Right now, there was only one thing to do—eliminate the insects before him.
With a flick of his wrist, he released the spell he had already prepared.
Kang Kai hesitated for a brief moment but did not stop him.
After all, according to Obai's teachings, even those who merely stood by and allowed evil to happen were guilty.
These refugees had chosen their fate.
And now—
they would reap the consequences.