Chapter 266 – The Priestess

(Title chapter number was mistakenly typed, sorry <(__)>)

“Help! Someone save me, help me…!”

The Harpy, held by the head and lifted into mid-air by Punk, screamed in terror as she cried for help.

“Stop! The High Priestess has arrived. How dare you, a lowly human, act so recklessly!”

Following the young Harpy’s cries for help, several armored Harpy soldiers who had been lying in ambush outside clawed open the wooden door and rushed in. In their eyes, Punk was a gift meant to be offered to the High Priestess. Now that the gift was resisting, how could they not be furious?

“Of course, I know that High Priestess is coming. There’s no need for you to remind me of such trivial matters.”

Faced with the loud questioning of five or six Harpy soldiers armed with spears, Punk let out a sinister, cold laugh and violently hurled the small Harpy in his hand like a projectile toward the door.

Punk no longer needed to continue hiding because he could sense a Formal-Level Harpy with a somewhat peculiar aura leading roughly five hundred adult Harpy warriors toward this treehouse. At such a close distance, Punk was fully confident he could capture the enemy alive, so there was no longer any need to awkwardly pretend to be a guest.

Though the young Harpy thrown by the Master-Level Mage Hand was large in size, she was accelerated to supersonic speed by the immense force. Her body was compressed into an irregular mass of flesh by the air pressure mid-flight, then, accompanied by a deafening sonic boom, she collided violently with the Harpy soldiers who had charged into the room.

“Boom!!”

A cloud of blood mist exploded within the small treehouse, and half of the structure was blown away by the shockwave. A gaping, crimson hole now stood directly opposite Punk, and the surrounding fragments of wood were stained a bloody red.

Such was the power of a Master-Level spell. Even a simple throw with Mage Hand could reach the level of an ordinary Formal-Level spell, and tearing apart a wooden house with walls over twenty centimeters thick was as easy as shredding paper.

“Excellent! High Priestess, I have been waiting here for a long time!”

Punk dissipated the thin energy barrier he had erected to block the splattering blood and excitedly fixed his azure blue eyes on the “Harpy army” hovering in the sky outside the treehouse, their faces filled with terror.

This small army was guarding a seductive Harpy adorned with numerous jewels and ornaments.

This Harpy, clearly of high status, had claws that were dark and glossy, and her entire body exuded an enchanting yet sinister aura. The staff she held was even more peculiar: the head of the otherwise unremarkable large wooden staff was embedded with an eyeball the size of a basketball, and this eyeball gave off a terrifying sense of constantly watching the souls of all living beings.

Without a doubt, this Harpy was the ruler of the tribe—the one referred to by the other Harpies as the High Priestess.

“Indeed, the problem lies with this High Priestess… No, it lies with that staff of hers.”

Punk paid no attention to the “gaze” of the Eerie Eyeball. Suppressing the excitement in his heart, he murmured to himself while narrowing his azure blue eyes slightly.He had just stared intently at the High Priestess while carefully sensing, quickly discovering some “interesting” details.

In Punk’s perception, the “eerie aura” swirling around the High Priestess had nearly solidified into substance. This aura had even affected her physical form, causing the Harpy High Priestess’s eyes to turn ash-brown, her claws to become twisted and sharp, and even growing jagged, razor-sharp teeth in her mouth.

Punk could also sense that the staff tightly gripped in the High Priestess’s hand was constantly communicating with her through the eerie aura. Each wisp of aura would be inhaled by the vertical pupil on the eyeball, and when exhaled again, it would grow slightly stronger.

Punk glanced at this group of HARPIES trapped between advancing and retreating, nodding in satisfaction after confirming these creatures posed no threat to him:

“Perhaps curiosity really is a good thing—it always brings me rewards.”

Unlike Punk’s joyful mood, the Harpy High Priestess felt only terror and despair.

Initially, after hearing the description from that surviving hunter Harpy, she thought the arrival was merely a Formal-Level mage. With the confidence brought by her staff, this High Priestess had some faith in this battle.

But what did she see upon arriving at the scene? A Master-Level spellcaster? Damned hunter, you come out here! Is this what you called a “low-level, ignorant, vulnerable” “little” mage? What grudge do you hold against me to set me up for certain death?

Though the bewildered High Priestess had brainwashed her tribeswomen, she hadn’t brainwashed herself, so she still had some awareness of her own capabilities. When she saw those azure blue pupils beneath the geographical hood, she knew she was in serious trouble.

“No! Must flee, immediately! If I can’t escape, I’m doomed!”

Forcing down the fear in her heart, the High Priestess shouted her “final command” to her hundred-plus warriors in a trembling voice:

“You fools, what are you waiting for? Attack now! As warriors of the Black Claw Tribe, your time to serve the tribe has come!”

The Harpy High Priestess’s voice was not only extremely shrill but also filled with mind-influencing psychic vibrations. After issuing this trembling-voiced command, the High Priestess immediately turned and fled rapidly in the opposite direction.

The Harpy warriors affected by the psychic vibrations showed no reaction to their commander’s desertion. They all screeched wildly, brandishing crude spears as they dove toward Punk.

“For the tribe!”

“For the omnipotent High Priestess!”

“The Black Claw Tribe is the strongest!”

“Filthy beastmen, die!”

Various battle cries shouted through the HARPIES’ piercing voices became ear-splitting noises capable of shattering glass, their power completely comparable to an “Apprentice-Level Conjuration spell—Noise Blast.”

But Punk remained completely unfazed facing this group of “bombers” diving toward him.

The strongest among these HARPIES was merely at the peak of ninth-rank Apprentice-Level. No matter how desperately or sharply they attacked, they couldn’t breach even Punk’s most basic defenses, while these “cannon fodder” couldn’t withstand a single slap from Punk’s attacks.”Why is it that the trump card of these magical creature tribe bosses is always used to screw over their own subordinates? Is it just to sacrifice a group of loyal followers to prolong their own lives by a few seconds?”

Watching the Harpies who had lost their minds rapidly approaching, Punk shook his head mockingly.

“Boom!!”

The pale purple Mage Hand swept through the air as if flicking away dust, leaving behind a trail of sparkling purple afterimages and… a sparse rain of blood.

“Still running? Do you really think you can escape?”

Punk looked at the priestess who had already flown far away, smiling as he unleashed the spell he had prepared long ago.

(End of Chapter)