Chapter 80 – The Hopeless Fugitive

Even after reaching the foot of the hill, Hotte still couldn’t believe he had truly escaped. He refused to recall how terrifying those days in the basement had been. Every time he heard the endless stream of horrifying screams from above, he could clearly recognize—that would be his eventual fate!

Before being captured and enslaved, Hotte had been a thief in the slums of Doleiz City. His daily life consisted of constantly seeking targets, executing thefts, evading patrols, and enduring exploitation by local gangs.

With a somewhat clever mind and relatively agile skills, he hadn’t ended up in the hands of the patrol like countless others who only managed a few jobs. The most glorious achievement in his “career” was successfully stealing an Apprentice Rank warrior’s wallet undetected. Although the lovely golden Gold Coins in that wallet ultimately ended up as “tribute” to the gangs, that particular feat still earned him some renown among the thief community in the slums!

But no matter how famous he became, he remained merely a thief, not a professional. As an ordinary person, he had succeeded in tens of thousands of thefts since childhood. Yet everything ended because of one mistake—one moment of carelessness when he tripped over a small stone!

Doleiz City showed no mercy in dealing with criminals. Those with minor offenses would be thrown in jail for a few days, while serious offenders would be executed on the spot. As for those with crimes that were “neither light nor severe”… without sufficient Gold Coins for “redemption,” they would be sold as slaves!

Unfortunately, Hotte fell into this category of “neither light nor severe” offenders without money, so he tragically became a slave. But even more unfortunate… his purchaser turned out to be an evil mage!

In the gloomy night air, Hotte took a deep breath of the putrid atmosphere. They were still within the range of Abyssal contamination, yet Hotte found the air here fresh and wonderful—far better than the bloody stench of the basement!

Five or six emaciated fugitive slaves, also “escorting” a Little Girl, caught up with Hotte’s pace.

Driven purely by survival instinct, they had all followed Hotte’s suggestion to jointly kidnap this seemingly weak young female mage.

The entire plan had proceeded with surprising smoothness. The little mage who could use spells to dig a tunnel never screamed or struggled violently as he had anticipated, nor did she show any signs of resistance. But this brought Hotte no joy!

Only when he reached the foot of the hill did Hotte realize how foolish his so-called plan truly was. Originally, according to his thinking, if they could just reach the town and scatter into the Alleys, they might have some chance of escape. With the Little Girl as a hostage making their pursuers hesitant, buying some time, combined with his years of experience “navigating streets and alleys,” they might actually manage to escape.

But now he discovered that all the houses around the hillfoot were empty and abandoned. Because even slight leakage of Abyssal aura would be unbearable for ordinary people, the residents near the small hill had long since hurriedly relocated.And even more despairing events followed one after another—the five or six fleeing slaves, including himself, had all discovered a terrifying truth… their stamina was failing!

Having gone over three days in the basement without a single bite of food or a drop of water, they were already dizzy, weak, and utterly exhausted. After the long run from the mountain down to the foothills, their vision was blurring with stars, and no matter what, they couldn’t run any further!

Even the usually nimble thief, Hotte, felt his limbs growing cold and his sight dimming. He knew that if they kept pushing themselves like this, these slaves, who had barely managed to “escape with their lives,” would die on the path to “freedom” before ever reaching the town!

After careful consideration, Hotte decided to rest for ten minutes in one of the dilapidated houses ahead. At the very least, they needed to find some water to replenish themselves—anything to avoid the tragic fate of collapsing from exhaustion!

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Sitting in a vine-woven chair at the center of the White Tower’s hall, Punk found it amusing as he perceived the information gathered by his Divination Spell. These little rats actually had the nerve to stop and rest in a few broken-down houses? Did they truly believe they had escaped?

Shaking his head, Punk inwardly mocked the common folk’s ignorance of magic, then issued a command to the Flesh Golem…

Under the gloomy night sky, as the White Tower’s gates slowly creaked open, a tall, humanoid “creature” cloaked in a gray robe stepped out. Its heavy footsteps fell upon the cracked ground, accompanied by the howling cold wind. From the tattered robe, the Flesh Golem’s blood-red claws slowly extended, and its seven crimson eyes tore through the darkness like the glare of a malevolent ghost!

With a spine-chilling roar, Golem Number One charged down the mountainside. Under the force of its powerful acceleration, the massive figure easily tore through the thin air, leaving behind a gray, red-streaked afterimage!

This was a killing machine born for combat, capable of acting on Punk’s commands. Now was the time to test its ability to receive orders and execute them—and the targets for this first test were none other than those reckless rats!

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Bilan sat dazedly on the cold floor, the frigid wind outside causing the rotting wooden door to creak and groan. Beside the young woman, two emaciated “skeletons” lay slumped, too exhausted to move. If not for their faint breathing, they would have looked like corpses that had been dead for days, dried out by the wind!

Bilan had seen these “pitiful” slaves in the basement. How could she not realize what fate awaited the “materials” Punk wanted her to take away? She had seen the piles of corpses discarded in the corner—those slaves had died in miserable agony, and even their souls were extracted for experiments afterward. This was something Bilan, who had always considered herself kind and just, could not accept.

When there was no opportunity, Bilan could only console herself that, as an Apprentice Rank mage, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to save these people—she simply had no means to do so. But when a slave, thinking himself clever, took her hostage and she overheard their plans, she felt she no longer had any excuse to pretend she knew nothing!As a result… Bilan, with her sense of justice momentarily surging, committed this foolish act that now seemed utterly irrational in hindsight.

While ordinary people might not understand the power of a Formal-Level mage, how could Bilan not know?

With Formal-Level Divination Spells existing, the so-called “escape to freedom” was nothing but a joke. At this moment, as the impulsive sense of justice gradually faded, Bilan began to feel a suffocating pressure slowly enveloping her entire soul!

“Oh heavens! How could I have been insane enough to resist a Formal-Level mage? I’m done for now!”Like many conflicted teenagers, when blood rushes to the head, one might fear nothing under the sky.” But once that passion subsides and rationality returns to the brain, regret over one’s foolish impulses comes in waves.

Bilan now felt Punk’s cold eyes constantly appearing in her mind, watching her. She was terrified—the fates of those test subjects remained vivid in her memory, and she feared she would be next to have her soul extracted!

But as merely an Apprentice Rank mage, she could do nothing but tremble against a wooden wall, unable to think of any solution!

Now, she truly regretted it. Amid the howling wind that screamed like ghosts, a young boy’s face slowly surfaced in Bilan’s mind.

“Dichiduo…”

Bilan’s lips moved slightly. No one but herself knew what she had said!

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Note: Punk will temporarily let Bilan off, but only for now.

(End of Chapter)