The two Mage Robe Skeletons might have been powerful Journeyman Mages in life, but after becoming undead and rising again, they were merely skeletons dressed more lavishly. Punk gave each of them a Minor Telekinetic Projectile, and with their skulls and Soul Flames shattered, the Mage Robe Skeletons finally "rested in peace" for good.
Punk did not dare search those "bone racks" with his bare hands. No matter how worthless those two piles of bones were now, they had once been formidable "esteemed Journeyman Mages." Who knew whether their possessions had been enchanted with spells to prevent enemies from touching them? Countless unfortunate thieves who had died from bizarre curses after casually handling a mage's belongings had "sincerely" taught people one lesson—never underestimate a mage's defensive measures. Mages spared no effort in protecting their fragile bodies. Just like Punk: ever since learning the versatile spell Minor Mage Armor, he had never let that layer of energy coat leave his body.
To ensure a safe "search," using magic was undoubtedly the best choice. Punk quietly chanted an incantation, and above the tip of his staff, a large energy hand gradually condensed. It glowed faintly violet, its sharp contours resembling a carved diamond statue. Upon closer listening, the low chant sounded as light and joyful as a lark's song. Apprentice Level Conjuration spell—Minor Mage Hand.
Punk ordered the giant bear, which could still exist for another ten minutes, to stand guard nearby. Then he controlled the large hand to grab the skeleton and its robe. The bones, no longer held together by Soul Energy, clattered apart across the ground. After Punk shook them in the air a few times as if shaking out clothes, pieces of bone fell from the robe one after another. In the end, only the robe remained, slowly fluttering in the breeze.
Punk carefully analyzed the robe with the system and found obvious traces of enchantments and other magic upon it. However, under the corrosion of undead aura, all those magical effects had vanished. It had only been a Journeyman Mage Robe to begin with. Now, only a few inscriptions emitting faint magical fluctuations proved that it had once been a magic item. As for now... after dismantling it, it should be called magical scrap...
But even magical "scrap" was still Journeyman Level magical scrap. Barring any surprises, it could sell for one or two hundred gold coins. Such a sum was nothing to an ordinary mage, barely enough to buy a piece of low-level knowledge within an organization, but that was precisely the kind of "low-level knowledge" Punk needed most right now!
After rummaging through the pile of bones, Punk found another pair of boot scraps, two belt scraps, and three magic ring scraps. Without exception, all of them had lost their magical power. Selling them for seven hundred gold coins was practically their only remaining value.
To be honest, Punk had once entertained the small hope of finding some treasure or secret manual. But reality was always the greatest weapon for shattering fantasies. Forget treasures—he had not even found a single usable item!
"We went through the same kinds of adventures and schemes, so why did other people always find secret manuals, hidden treasures, or at worst treasure maps? Why was I reduced to moonlighting as a junk collector?" Punk stuffed the scattered "junk" into the torn robe he was temporarily using as a bag and muttered his displeasure. He knew perfectly well that two Journeyman Mages could hardly possess any impressive equipment. Their only gear could not possibly withstand the attacks of a Formal Level Mage. Getting these miscellaneous scraps was already fairly good, yet Punk could not help grumbling inwardly, Web novels really are all lies.
After casually marking a coordinate on the outskirts of the Forest of Undead, Punk set out on his return journey with that pile of valuable "junk" on his back. With Divination Spells, Punk would not lose his way even on a barren wilderness without landmarks. He planned to sell the spoils to the Mage Guild once he returned to Konola City, then use the money to buy a house far from the bustling streets and seriously practice alchemy. In the future, all kinds of alchemical creations would be his source of income. With messy missions like this, one careless step could drag him into some unpredictable "major event." Given Punk's current strength, it was better to keep his distance.
It was already the twenty-fifth hour of the night. Faerun's three moons once again hung in the sky. The weather was clear and calm, and in a night sky untouched by industrial pollution, countless stars could be seen distinctly. Every star was a plane. Light from those planes relatively close to Faerun crossed the Astral Realm, which contained almost no dust, and shone upon the Faerun plane, forming a brilliant canopy of stars. Unlike the stars seen from Earth, the stars visible from the Faerun plane were dazzlingly multicolored. In particular, the blue and red lights from the Elemental Planes decorated the sky as beautifully as a fairy-tale world. Every star moved, some quickly and some slowly. Drawn by the gravity of the Faerun plane, all visible "stars" orbited around it. From the ground, it looked as though every star were revolving overhead. Against the deep, distant night, their scattered radiance glittered with the exquisite beauty of crystal diamonds adorning formal attire.
Punk stared at the wondrous night sky and was momentarily lost in thought. How much beauty, mystery, and wonder remained in that profound universe, waiting for him to pursue and witness? His yearning for the unknown seized his entire mind. Cool moonlight illuminated his face, making it pale and pristine, while starlight reflected rainbow-colored shadows in his eyes. Punk felt as if the gorgeous night sky had shone into his soul, as if his heart had merged with the countless brilliant stars... He gazed deeply at the heavens as the breeze gently stirred the edges of his robe, and the entire wilderness seemed to fall silent.
Somewhere in the haze, Punk seemed to hear a drunken voice murmuring indistinctly by his ear. Slowly, he awoke from that profound state and sensed that his Soul Sense had expanded more than threefold. He sensed the power of his soul flowing gently through every limb and bone, while vast amounts of magic power grew ever more solid in the depths of his soul. Looking at the world before him, now astonishingly clear, he gently touched the breeze with his slender, pale fingers. Punk knew that he had broken through!
The breakthrough had come suddenly, yet it also felt perfectly natural. The elevation of his Soul Level gave Punk a deeper understanding of magic and control. Now, even low-level spells could gain considerable bonuses when cast by him. Most importantly, he finally qualified to learn Journeyman Level spells! Thinking of the armor worn by the priest he had encountered, which had endured dozens of strikes from Skeleton Warriors without breaking, its powerful defense standing firm against a storm of attacks; thinking of the Flame Jet stored in his staff, with its immense power to burn everything in its path, Punk could not help smiling. His path of magic could finally advance another step!
"Still, you have to eat one bite at a time and walk one step at a time. On the way back to Konola City, I need to seriously study Journeyman Level spells before I can truly gain the combat power of a Journeyman Mage. Then, when I face that old mage in the Mage Guild again, I won't feel so intimidated." Returning to his expressionless state, Punk picked up the fallen "trash bag" from the ground and continued toward Konola City through the night. The interwoven light of the three moons made the sky much brighter.
"My path has only just begun." Punk sighed calmly.
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