As the third-level wizard fell to the ground, a figure appeared behind him—it was the Eight-Armed Skeleton Anan.
Anan casually dragged along a comically large self-made long bone hammer. It was with this nearly three-meter-long hammer that he lightly tapped the third-level wizard's head, shattering his hope of destroying the spell puppet.
With one hammer strike finishing the third-level wizard, Anan glanced at the approaching spell puppet. His eyes, blazing with a golden flame, flickered slightly, filled with a yearning—like a person trudging through the cold snow of winter seeing a steaming beef soup shop, or someone enduring the scorching sun of summer spotting a stall selling chilled plum juice.
Neither the beef soup nor the plum juice costs a penny.
Who could resist that?
