First Battle

With See Invisibility active, Punk saw roughly six or seven small green creatures hiding in a bush as tall as a person. They were novice monsters commonly found both on the Faerun plane and in online games on Earth—goblins.

Goblins were related to gnomes. Although both history and genetics proved it, no gnome would ever admit it. After all, while gnome civilization had declined, the Imaskari Mechanical Empire had once enjoyed a prestigious reputation across many planes! Goblins, on the other hand, had remained uncivilized since ancient times. No wonder the gnomes looked down on these "poor relatives."

Goblins stood only as tall as children. With oversized hooked noses, heads disproportionate to their bodies, and ragged animal hides for clothing, they looked more like a band of starving refugees than robbers. In truth, they did bully the weak and fear the strong, but that certainly did not make them harmless.

They possessed strength no weaker than that of an adult and agility comparable to monkeys. Generally speaking, it took two ordinary militiamen to handle one goblin. These few goblins had combat strength equivalent to a militia squad!

Judging from where the goblins had set their ambush, their original target should have been the herd of reindeer in the distance coming to drink from the river. After all, their short little legs were hardly suited for work requiring speed, such as pursuit hunting!

But these dimwitted little monsters had clearly changed targets. Their tiny fists tightening around their stone axes showed that they had set their sights on Punk, who was closer and appeared weaker!

But Punk was no weak prey.

He calmly stopped and took a small piece of rabbit fat from his robe pocket!

Any creature with an intelligence above fifty should have immediately avoided a mage who took out spellcasting materials. Yet these ignorant goblins still thought they had not been discovered. They even waited expectantly for their "prey" to come closer before launching a surprise attack!

With spellcasting materials, hand gestures, and incantations assisting him, Punk easily cast this Apprentice Level conjuration spell—Grease—in less than two seconds.

A large mass of Astral Oil was created by his soul, then summoned into reality through magic. The small piece of rabbit fat vanished, replaced by a basketball-sized sphere of Astral Oil glittering with white specks. As the final syllable of the incantation was completed, the Astral Oil was hurled toward the large bush concealing the goblins by the small launching array built into the Spell Structure. It was not particularly fast, about as quick as a stone fired from a slingshot. It could not compare to the sniper-rifle speed of Minor Telekinetic Projectile, but even so, the goblins, who still had no idea what was happening, could not react in time.

The Astral Oil drenched both the bush and the goblins within it. The little monsters jumped in fright, trying to escape the bush, but the slick Astral Oil quickly sent them tumbling to the ground. They struggled wildly, but they would never get another chance to rise!

Punk had begun preparing his next spell the instant Grease was complete. This time, he cast the simplest evocation spell—Mini Fireball.

This spell was extremely weak. Its primary purpose was actually to start fires, but used now in combination with the battlefield-control spell Grease, it displayed tremendous power.

Since Mini Fireball was so simple, Punk completed it in about a second. An orange-red fireball the size of a ping-pong ball flew out right after Grease. Almost the moment the goblins slipped, the Mini Fireball slammed viciously into the Astral Oil-soaked bush.

The Astral Oil sparkling with white specks was even more flammable than Punk had expected. The entire bush quickly became a giant fireball, and rolling black smoke spread above it. The Astral Oil burned at temperatures nearing a thousand degrees. Even in the chilly morning air, it created rings of Solar Flare within a one-meter radius around the burning bush. As for the pitiful goblins inside... aside from a few little "firemen" with thicker leather armor who managed to rush out and roll around twice in the nearby grass, most only had time to let out a bone-chilling scream before turning into charred lumps.

The fire ignited by the Astral Oil burned fast and died fast. After about a minute, every flame had gone out. After all, Greenleaf Season plants still contained plenty of moisture.

As the last wisps of gray smoke dispersed in the wind, the miserable scene on the ground was revealed without concealment. The bush had turned to ash the moment the fire began, and now only a few barely recognizable charred corpses remained.

Seeing this, Punk gave a relaxed whistle and strode toward the scorched corpses. He kicked aside several "charcoal lumps" with the sole of his shoe, but found nothing except a few blackened stone tools.

"Sure enough, this is a real world. Better not fantasize about item drops."

Punk rubbed the sole of his shoe against a rock by the river, smacked his lips in dissatisfaction, then continued on his way.

Walking downstream along the river, Punk recalled the goblin corpses he had wiped out. Surprisingly, he felt no nausea at all. There was even a faint excitement rising from the depths of his heart.

Maybe it was because they had been burned beyond recognition!

Punk sincerely considered that a good thing. It proved that his mind had already adapted to this survival-of-the-fittest world.

Following the river, he watched the water lap against the banks. Because of the blue glow on the horns of the small fish in the river, blue points of light were scattered across its surface. In the sky, the two suns—one large and red, one small and orange—slowly moved toward the center.

A little past noon, a village came into view.

This village possessed the most typical trait of a medieval settlement—poverty.

A fence woven from branches of varying lengths surrounded the village. The ragged fence was less a defense against wild beasts than a boundary marking the village's limits. Vast, irregular, scattered fields were divided by winding paths. The shacks piled together in the distance were the villagers' homes. Most of the villagers currently working in the fields were sallow and emaciated; if it had been nighttime, people might well have mistaken them for undead skeletons. They weeded the fields with wooden tools, while a tall, vicious-looking man carrying a whip patrolled among them. Whenever he encountered someone working too slowly, he lashed them hard. Most of the farmers here were tenants of a landlord; agriculture on the Faerun plane followed the Landlord System.

As Punk approached, some of the farmers secretly glanced at him, dressed as he was in fine clothes and blessed with handsome features.

But when they saw the staff in his hand and the mage robe on his body, two unmistakable symbols of a mage, they hurriedly lowered their heads and continued weeding as though they had seen nothing. Only a few children kept turning back for curious looks, even as the adults dragged them away.

Punk had no time to care about the villagers' reactions. He was somewhat disappointed to find that this was merely a dilapidated village, but even the poorest village had some contact with the outside world. He hoped to learn information about nearby towns.

Naturally, he would not ask these illiterate villagers, so he beckoned to the tall man who looked like a lackey.

"You, come here. Tell me which noble's fief this village belongs to."

Punk spoke expressionlessly, his voice neither loud nor soft, just enough for the tall man to hear.

The tall man, who had been acting so ferociously toward the farmers moments ago, shuddered in fright when he heard an unknown mage calling for him. Trembling, he hurried over at a small run.