Chapter 475 – Return

Gray Rain Country, Thought of Truth Branch.

Unlike other regions, the Sprouting Season was the gloomiest period in Gray Rain Country. During this rainy season, the continuous drizzle of gray rain often persisted for one or two weeks at a time. Historically, the longest recorded “Gray Rain” lasted through an entire Sprouting Season, forcing the Mage Guild to dispatch casters to help farmers drain the accumulated “floodwaters” from their fields.

This year’s Gray Rain during the Sprouting Season was relatively mild. Though it rained incessantly day and night, only a fine drizzle reached the ground. Despite the density of the rain strands plunging the perpetually cloud-shrouded Gray Rain Country into near-total obscurity, such light precipitation was considered just right compared to the destructive floods caused by heavier rains.

Within the Thought of Truth Branch in Grey Mire Swamp, casters who dedicated themselves to spell research year after year paid little attention to such commonplace rainfall. To them, the swamp was perpetually muddy and damp—a bit more rain made no difference.

In the quiet Mission Hall, however, the apprentices were far more preoccupied with a figure standing at the center of the hall.

Whether Apprentice-Level novices or Formal-Level mentors, every mage passing by this figure politely offered a standard mage’s salute as a sign of respect.

The reason for this deference was obvious—the elderly figure was none other than the nominally highest-ranking caster in this branch: Master Kirk Weilen.

Thanks to the presence of this smiling old man, the entire Thought of Truth Mission Hall had fallen into a hushed silence. No apprentice dared to laugh or chatter as they usually would; almost everyone kept their heads down and moved about with hurried steps.

The pressure exuded by a Master-Level powerhouse was immense. Even though Kirk Weilen made no effort to release his aura, his mere status was enough to render all apprentices speechless.

No one knew why this Level 19 Caster, who was typically swamped with responsibilities, had been standing in the hall all morning with a smile on his face. Yet, this unusual circumstance prompted every mage—whether they had business or not—to swiftly exit the hall.

The atmosphere in the Thought of Truth Branch was stifling. Despite Kirk Weilen’s kind and warm smile, the apprentices couldn’t shake off a suffocating sense of discomfort in the glow-globe-lit hall.

Even the Formal-Level mentors were hastening their pace as they handled their affairs. It seemed perfectly normal for apprentices to leave the hall immediately after turning in their missions.

“Why is the Senior Mentor in the Mission Hall? I didn’t even dare to submit my task with him standing there,” muttered a young apprentice, bowing his head as he hurried toward the exit. His near-jogging pace betrayed the anxiety in his heart—he had just completed his mission and was eager to get away.Behind him, a timid young female apprentice followed with her head lowered, clutching the boy’s robe with her fingers. Her face showed no trace of the joy of completing a mission, for Master Kirk Weilen was currently watching the doorway with a smiling gaze, which undoubtedly gave the young apprentice the illusion of being scrutinized by a Master-Level powerhouse.

“Hurry up, we shouldn’t be discussing Master-Level powerhouses.”

“Mhm, mhm.”

The boy walking at the front nodded in agreement, tightly clutching a bag of magical materials he had just exchanged in the hall as he quickly stepped toward the exit. The cold sweat beading on his forehead suggested that, barring any surprises, the moment they left Kirk Weilen’s sight, these two young mages would likely dash frantically through the mud.

But the boy and girl never made it out the door.

As the leading boy stepped forward, his body collided with an invisible barrier.

The powerful recoil sent him tumbling onto the stone steps of the Mission Hall, and the young female mage following closely behind tripped over his robe.

“Ouch!”

As the bag slipped from his grasp, a full pouch of Frost White Stone scattered across the hall’s stone steps. The young mage, who had landed squarely on a sharp piece of the frost-white material, grimaced in pain, his mouth twisting awkwardly.

Yet… no matter how much it hurt, the horrified boy and girl found themselves unable to make a sound the next second, their eyes wide with terror.

Because… right beside their heads… a faint purple orb that had appeared out of nowhere was gently floating up and down in the air.

“Master-Level Conjuration spell—Kinetic Blast!”

Even without knowing what spell they faced, the two Apprentice-Level mages could sense the terrifying energy contained within. There was no doubt: if that orb were to detonate lightly, not only would their heads instantly turn to dust, but every apprentice below Formal-Level in the entire hall would inevitably meet the same fate.

In that brief moment, the entire Mission Hall seemed frozen in time. Aside from the reception golem mechanically explaining mission details, every apprentice and Formal-Level mage stood rooted to the spot, their limbs turning cold. For a full ten seconds, no one in the vast hall dared to move even slightly.

Sitting slumped on the stone steps, the boy tightened his arm around the trembling young female mage beside him and slowly looked up toward the now-darkened doorway.

Then, he—along with every other mage gazing at the entrance—saw with horror the icy figure standing squarely in the doorway, blocking the sunlight.

It was a spellcaster wearing a Mage Robe of black with red patterns. The menacing staff strapped to their back constantly emitted an eerie aura, while the pulled-low hood nearly concealed their entire face. Through the shadowy veil, one could only glimpse a pair of icy blue, chilling pupils beneath the hood.

Without a doubt, the powerful spellcaster now standing at the entrance—who had repelled the eager young mage and instantly cast a Master-Level spell—was none other than Punk!

“Quite the grand welcome… Since when have the apprentices of the Thought of Truth become so reckless?”

After casting a cold glance at the two shivering Apprentice-Level mages on the ground, Punk frowned slightly.Years of ingrained vigilance made Punk intolerant of any sudden approach of matter or energy. Originally, he had planned to enter the Mission Hall quietly using Aura Concealment to submit the “Dragon Slaying” mission, but the two young mages suddenly crashing toward him undoubtedly set off Punk’s nerves. As it turned out, the “Kinetic Blast” he reflexively released had terrified every mage in the hall.

However, Punk wasn’t one to care about such trivial matters. Even seeing all the mages in the hall trembling and rooted to their spots, he merely shook his head slightly as if nothing had happened.

In fact, the moment he stepped through the door, Punk realized that maintaining a low profile was pointless. The core reason he had concealed his aura was to avoid running into the utterly troublesome Kirk Weilen, but now… Kirk Weilen was already standing right in the center of the hall waiting for him. Avoiding him was out of the question!

But… so what if he couldn’t avoid him?

After all, Punk was now a powerful 19th-level spellcaster with an endless array of trump cards at his disposal. Having successfully eliminated even Ovakain and Sorsend, why would he fear a mere Kirk Weilen at this point?

With this confidence, Punk calmly dispersed the terrifying “Kinetic Blast” and strode directly into the hall.

His goal in returning was simply to submit the “Dragon Slaying” mission and obtain exchange points. As for whatever Kirk Weilen wanted to say by waiting for him here… he could say whatever he pleased.

(End of Chapter)