Chapter 57 – Withering Flower and Breakthrough

In this world, some things always come suddenly and unexpectedly. The future always holds countless predictions, yet the final “outcome” often defies your expectations!

Just as the Gold Coin in Punk’s hand was propelled by strong kinetic energy toward the Stalker girl’s forehead, a fleeting black glint shot from the enemy’s lips. Even from a distance, Punk could sense the potent toxin coating that sharp steel needle—a terrifying poison that made one’s heart grow cold even through sturdy Mage Armor.

“But… a poisoned needle that misses its target is meaningless.”

Punk knew this was the enemy’s final desperate strike. Surprise hidden weapons from the mouth were practically standard for all Stalkers. As a cautious mage, how could Punk not have prepared for this?

In fact, the moment he saw the enemy fall to the ground, seemingly without means to counterattack, Punk had already been inwardly alert for this “final assault.” Now, watching the smoke-wreathed poisoned needle pierce through the air faster than a sniper rifle bullet, Punk calmly activated the “Minor Deflection Field” on his Mage Robe while casually thinking, “Magic items are truly convenient.” He remained completely unaware of how effective—and familiar—his response would prove to be this time.

For professionals, death is like the wind—always by their side.

For ordinary people, death is like the night—following their shadow.

But for those already dead, death is like a meteor—striking suddenly…

When Punk suddenly sensed something amiss and turned back, Princess Nasia had already collapsed powerless to the ground…

Some say death is but a silent parting. Even one who bears responsibilities or exists carrying others’ blessings breathes the same as everyone else, thinks the same, sinks into darkness the same… Sometimes death might be liberation in another form—finally free from the relentless pursuit of pressure and responsibility. Just as we cannot see corpses decay and wither, nor bother to witness living flesh turn to dry bones, we hardly expect to see who weeps at solemn funerals or who laughs in joy… In truth, neither sorrow nor laughter holds meaning for the deceased. A blue heart may beat resolutely without sunlight, but congealed blood cannot solidify the endlessly flowing emptiness and stillness. The forever unhealed scars begin to rot, eroded by darkness; flawless pale skin can no longer feel the warmth of the entire world. This is death—like scattered blossoms, poignant yet mundane!

The resilient Princess Nasia lay on the ground amidst the lingering golden light, a black steel needle slanting from her chest. Violent toxins spread across her elegant collarbone in rose-like patterns that heralded death…She died in this gloomy, nameless forest, carrying her mother’s expectations, Mainaixi’s blessings, the soldiers’ sacrifices, and the vengeance and dreams she had sworn to fulfill. The beauty and responsibilities of the mortal world might have given her the courage to survive, but they could not grant her the power to defy death…

Punk stared at the deceased princess, feeling the contract of the Eye of Judgment automatically dissolve due to the death of the contracted party. For once, he stood frozen in place, his mind not only filled with the relief of being freed from a troublesome contract but also haunted by an inescapable sense of absurdity—had Her Highness the Princess, who bore the hopes of countless people and missions she was destined to complete, truly died like this? And by a poisoned needle he had inadvertently deflected?

Gently lifting Nasya’s corpse with Mage Hand, he reflected that the princess, not a devout believer, was unworthy of entering any divine realm. Her soul had already been utterly consumed by the ceaselessly flowing River of Fate… Punk had done his utmost, yet such an accident was unforeseeable by anyone, and even the harsh, stern Eye of Judgment could offer no reproach.

Casually tossing the princess’s cooling body to the ground, he felt a chaotic turmoil in his heart. Frail and pitiable were powerless lives—no matter how many missions and dreams she held, no matter how strong her will and character, they were no match for the puncture of a tiny poisoned needle. This was reality—absurd to the point of ridicule, rational to the point of cruelty!

“Did the efforts of those fallen soldiers, and Mage Mainaixi, who sacrificed his bright future and even his life, hold any meaning?”

With a complex gaze fixed on the princess’s cold, lifeless body, Punk posed this question to himself without a trace of emotion.

“The answer is…”

A flicker of confusion passed through Punk’s eyes as he murmured softly to himself:

“…Yes, their efforts were meaningful. But that meaning lies not in the princess, but in themselves. The very act of striving unto death was the significance of their demise—it represented that they had exerted their utmost effort. As for the outcome thereafter… that was the princess’s ‘meaning,’ not theirs.”

The entire serene forest fell silent in mourning for the withering of a beautiful flower, yet the workings of all things did not pause for even a moment. The sorrowful continued to grieve, the dancers continued to dance.

Punk, now in high spirits, served as a perfect example…

The moment he grasped the truth, his entire soul seemed to brighten with clarity. Successfully disentangling the knotted “meanings,” this enlightenment and sense of accomplishment became the final push he needed to break through his bottleneck. His soul ascended in that instant, as if the entire world lay unveiled before him—Punk could even perceive the undulations of space and dimensions, and hear the vibrant “sounds” of all things.

The realm of the Formal-Level Mage—Punk had attained it!

The dead continued to sink in their grim graves, but the rising new star shone undimmed.

Opening his profound eyes, within their azure pupils swirled faint purple radiances, as if they contained an infinite, intoxicatingly ethereal world…Savoring the incredibly abundant magical power and feeling his soul undergo a qualitative transformation, Punk curled his lips into a faint, pleased smile. Although he hadn’t learned any Formal-Level spells yet, with a Formal-Level soul for spellcasting, even Apprentice-Level spells had gained unimaginable boosts in power. For instance, the Catapult Spell, which originally only had the force of an anti-materiel sniper rifle, now—Punk was certain—its intensity definitely rivaled that of electromagnetic cannons from sci-fi movies!

Moreover, with the soul strength and ridiculously powerful control of a Formal-Level Mage, spells below the Formal-Level could now be cast instantaneously. He could even simultaneously unleash multiple spells as if he had mastered metamagic techniques. Although this was limited to low-level spells, it was enough to demonstrate how unimaginably powerful a Formal-Level expert could be.

Calming the joy in his heart, Punk took one last glance at the princess lying on the ground. She likely harbored secrets worth Prince William’s relentless pursuit, but Punk wasn’t some fantasy novel protagonist. While he felt a flicker of curiosity, it wasn’t enough to drive him to uncover the truth at all costs… As for the masses of Kamos Kingdom awaiting rescue by Her Highness the Princess, the anxious queen nervously hoping for news of Nasya’s survival, and Mainaixi’s dying plea and entrustment—Puck coolly shrugged it off: None of my damn business!

Feeling genuinely relieved that he could gain a trove of knowledge for free (the princess was dead, the mission was void, and the reward was already his), Punk was in high spirits. He decided to head to Dillon Kingdom, secure a modest fief, build a rudimentary Mage Tower as best he could, and devote decades to serious research (Formal-Level experts retained their youth and lived 1,000 years; Punk’s half-elf bloodline added another 1,000). He aimed to solidify his theoretical foundation as a Formal-Level Mage and begin planning his increasingly challenging path to advancement… Thinking it over, he had a sea of tasks ahead!

As for the messy affairs of Kamos Kingdom… he figured Prince William, having achieved his goal, wouldn’t cross borders to provoke a Formal-Level expert…

“So, a new drama is about to begin”!

With calm delight, Punk strode into the forest, making his way toward Dillon Kingdom. As for the dead princess’s corpse… who had the time to bother with her?

(End of Chapter)