The Laurelock Inn was a small inn located by Konola's southern city wall. As a business, being situated in the remote southern district was undoubtedly unwise—but that was another matter entirely if its true identity was a secret escape route. South of Konola City lay a sparse woodland. Passing through this forest, known locally as Old Muddy Woods, would lead one to the Kingdom of Kamos's neighboring nation—the Kingdom of Dilon, which had always been at odds with Kamos. Political asylum existed on the Faerun plane. If the Princess could gain Dilon's protection, at least her life would no longer be in danger.
Punk also wanted to leave the Kingdom of Kamos, which was embroiled in civil war, so his goal aligned with Mainesi's when it came to heading for the Kingdom of Dilon. Of course, the most urgent matter now was escaping Konola City before its imminent destruction!
The worg's speed was quite impressive. In less than half an hour, Punk had reached the vicinity of the Laurelock Inn. Nearly a quarter of the inn had already been burned down. Its lovely pink signboard had been roasted by the flames into half a charred black plank. Still, although its exterior looked miserable and on the verge of collapse, Punk observed that the fire had been brought under control in time. The building's main structure had barely been preserved, and its load-bearing beams had not yet been reduced to charcoal.
The worg stopped behind a damaged stone wall. The pads on its paws allowed its enormous body to move with almost no sound.
Punk quietly cast an Arcane Eye. The completely transparent eyeball drifted out from behind the wall and fixed its gaze on three young professionals in the spark-filled street ahead. They were merely Apprentice Level, likely here only to carry out a token patrol. They clearly did not believe a place without even a living soul in sight could hold any danger. They even had the leisure to roughhouse atop several jagged rocks.
"Low-level professionals on the Faerun plane are generally young. Many are practically children. Having some power without the caution to match is simply unavoidable."
Punk looked disdainfully at the three idiots, still unaware that disaster was about to strike.
"Make it quick and clean. Lunka's professionals are equipped with signal flares. Don't let them send a message." Mainesi's voice reached Punk's ears through a simple Message Spell.
At Mainesi's reminder, Punk put away his playful attitude. Taking care of these Apprentice Level "little ones" might not be difficult, but adding the requirement of doing so silently made things troublesome. After all, Punk was a mage, not a rogue.
After thinking carefully, Punk decided to start with the higher-level young priest. In a team, when a spellcaster was attacked, the nearby martial professionals would usually gather to assist them. This was especially true for these hot-blooded boys and girls. In their innocence, they had not yet learned to abandon their companions and flee, even though running decisively was the best choice when facing an irresistible threat!
Punk decided to exploit that point, gather them together, and wipe them all out with an area-of-effect spell!
With the plan made, he acted immediately. Beneath the shadow of his hood, vast azure motes of magic slowly revolved around Punk's pupils. His two almost tangible blue eyes brimmed with coldness and indifference.
"Stun Spell"—the upgraded version of Lesser Stun, a spell Punk had practiced diligently. With only a few key incantations and no casting materials, Punk constructed the spell model almost instantly. The Stun Spell, a curse-type abjuration spell, crossed fifty meters in an instant after being cast and descended upon the young priest's brain.
The young priest, who had been chatting and laughing with the female archer beside him one moment earlier, suddenly froze in place the next. Thin streams of blood slowly flowed from his nose and mouth—this fellow had not even cast a single defensive spell on himself. He had taken the Stun Spell head-on without any buffer at all!
Never assume that support spells lacked lethality. The Stun Spell cast by Punk, a level-seven mage, had struck this little priest, who was at most level four, solidly. His mental network was shattered in an instant! Judging by his condition, his brain nerves had also been damaged. Even if he did not end up paralyzed, he would become an idiot.
"Noan! What's wrong with you?!"
The warrior walking behind the young priest hurried over to inspect Noan, who was slowly falling backward because he could no longer control his body.
"Don't go over there!" The female archer seemed to realize something. Even as she warned the warrior, she suddenly charged toward Noan herself.
"Too late!"
The young warrior, desperately shaking Noan, did not notice the white shape charging down from above. As a result, the warrior, with no time to resist at all, was bitten squarely by Punk's worg descending from the sky. With a low growl and a savage shake of its head, the worg tore away most of the young warrior's lower abdomen along with one of his legs as though ripping paper. Blood and shredded flesh sprayed across the scorching ground.
The female archer's eyes immediately filled with glittering tears at the sight. The companions who had been laughing with her only moments ago had died miserably before her eyes in the blink of an eye. She simply could not accept such a cruel reality.
But Punk had no interest in whether someone about to die could accept reality.
A wide-area abjuration spell came crashing down without mercy—Flame Strike. Pale purple flames struck the young warrior rolling across the ground and wailing, and a ring of fire carrying tremendous kinetic force spread outward from its center.
While possessing the ability to burn at extreme temperatures, the area spell Flame Strike also carried a great deal of chaotic kinetic energy, making it extraordinarily destructive against physical defenses such as armor.
As the Flame Strike spun and spread, the terrified young warrior and the unconscious young priest were instantly torn apart and burned into charred chunks scattered across the ground. The brick road, subjected to the same "treatment," was left riddled with scars by the chaotic kinetic energy.
However, the female archer escaped disaster. The red necklace around her neck activated a Divine Spell Shield. Three crimson shields materialized from the air and began orbiting the girl at high speed. Nearly all the Flame Strike energy was intercepted outside the shields.
Punk narrowed his eyes. He recognized the divine spell. It was the Church of Kampaas, the God of Warriors, signature spell: Crimson Shield.
The female archer leaped backward like a startled cat. Landing on a rock protruding from the ground, she glared at Punk and shrieked in grief and fury, "Do you know what you've done? Noan is Kampaas's priest!" After saying that, the girl pressed her red lips together and yanked the signal flare from her waist. Clearly, she was not foolish enough to charge in and fight him alone. She intended to notify the distant patrol for reinforcements!
But she was already too late to use it.
Under the girl's astonished gaze, a crooked pale yellow beam struck the crimson shields. The divine shields, which had seemed utterly indestructible, turned into specks of crimson light and dissipated into the air less than two seconds after coming into contact with the beam.
"Journeyman Level Abjuration Spell—Energy Dispersal."
This was the spell Punk had used. By creating a repelling effect, it dispersed energy away from an object. It was especially effective against Rootless Water energy defenses activated by magical items.
"Kampaas has trillions of followers spread throughout the Multiverse. Would he care whether a tiny apprentice priest lived or died?"
The next second, tough vines shot up from the ground and tightly bound the girl. Then she fell unconscious beneath the attack of a Stun Spell, while Punk's taunt was the last thing she heard before losing consciousness.
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