A flickering red flame shot out from the ruby atop Punk's staff.
In an instant, everything in its path was reduced to ash—grass disintegrated, stones turned crimson and cracked, and even nearby trees were carbonized by the sheer heat.
The seven-thousand-degree blaze was so intense that Punk could feel its searing waves through his energy-formed Secondary Mage Armor.
The firestorm reached the skeletal horde in less than a second.
Upon impact, the explosion engulfed them completely.
The raging inferno swirled violently, illuminating the entire undead-infested forest. Every creature, even distant skeleton soldiers, froze in place, trembling at the sight of such pure destruction.
This was instinctive fear—fear of something that could erase them in an instant.
The flames raged for dozens of seconds before finally dying down, revealing nothing but a scorched wasteland.
The skeletons had been annihilated the moment the fire touched them.
Their bones, their weapons, and even the remains of the female priest had been utterly vaporized.
The land beneath them had turned into molten rock, cooling into a glassy surface that shimmered with eerie reflections under the dim sky.
"This power… it's easily two or three times stronger than a rocket spell."
Punk inhaled deeply, feeling the heat still lingering in the air. Patches of the ground remained red-hot, glowing like molten metal.
"This is power—true destruction! This is knowledge—the mastery of annihilation!"
He murmured, fingers brushing over the still-warm ruby on his staff.
After taking a moment to admire the results of his spell, Punk turned away from the lifeless battlefield.
There was nothing left here—only scorched earth and fading heat.
Now, it was time to uncover the secrets hidden within this unnatural forest.
More importantly, it was time to claim his spoils.
The deeper he ventured, the thicker the undead aura became.
Near the heart of the forest, the air itself seemed poisoned, black mist coiling around his ankles. Even his Secondary Stance spell struggled to fully block the encroaching death energy.
Then he saw them—two skeletal figures in tattered robes, wandering aimlessly.
Despite the decay of their bones, traces of lingering soul energy remained.
These two had once been apprentice-level mages, their power evident even in death.
Yet their robes were oddly intact, barely damaged aside from the faded, corrupted magical inscriptions.
But what struck Punk the most was the state of their remains.
The soldiers and mages near the forest's core had died without a fight.
Unlike the chaotic battle at the outskirts, there were no signs of struggle here.
Some soldiers still had their weapons sheathed, as if they'd never even drawn them.
A sense of unease crept over him.
He crouched and picked up a brittle twig from the ground, letting his system analyze it.
Analysis: Subject was eroded by undead energy within six seconds. All life force completely neutralized.
"Just as I thought."
Punk dropped the branch, watching it shatter into dust upon impact.
This wasn't normal undead corruption—this was the lingering effect of a powerful spell.
A formal-level caster had unleashed destruction here, killing everything in mere moments.
Even weeks later, the undead aura had yet to dissipate.
Punk narrowed his eyes.
Spells of this scale were rare even among full-fledged wizards.
The sheer power needed to wipe out two entire armies and leave behind a lingering death field… it was terrifying.
His mind retraced the clues.
The skeletal soldiers he had seen earlier—many had remnants of fabric on their shoulders, faded and torn by decay.
A marker, perhaps?
Something used to distinguish friend from foe?
That meant two armies had clashed here, likely from the Kingdom of Camos.
But their identical uniforms suggested something deeper—either one side was an imposter, or this was a civil conflict.
And then, right in the midst of their battle, a formal-level spellcaster had arrived.
The outcome was instant annihilation.
No struggle.
No resistance.
Just death.
"What a mess. And to think it involves a formal-level wizard… Why would someone like that be in this wasteland?"
But in the end, none of this concerned him.
He had no intention of getting tangled in another person's conspiracy.
When he returned to the guild, he would simply report that he had slain a few undead, retrieved some equipment, and marked a spatial coordinate.
The guild could investigate further if they wished—Punk had no interest in the affairs of elementary school-level intrigue.
Having sorted out his thoughts, he turned his gaze back to the wandering robed skeletons.
"Well then… time to open the treasure chests."