Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2701: Raiders

Minutes later, aboard the Azure Kraken

The Azure Kraken was the jewel of the Blue Skull Raiders’ fleet, and its command deck reflected that grim prestige. It wasn’t a war room in the style of the Alliance, but a private lair dressed in trophies of blood and conquest. Rare beast skulls hung from hooks like lanterns, shattered banners lined the bulkheads, and the central throne was carved from obsidian bone, its jagged arms inlaid with frozen crystal. The air was unnaturally cold, every breath misting like smoke.

Seated upon that throne was Captain Draeven. His skin was pale as frostbitten stone, his beard threaded with silver rings. Resting across his lap was that very blade—a cruel, curved weapon sheathed in a sheen of rime. His presence alone made the chamber feel like the heart of a glacier.

At his side, the first mate shifted uneasily.

”Captain... I say we set course for Skyrend Port. We can offload these refugees there and sell them to the Syndicate markets. Safer than dragging them along.”

Draeven’s cold eyes flicked toward him, lips curling in faint disdain.

”Not yet. We will gain more benefits by traveling with them.”

”But, Captain...” the first mate pressed, unease in his tone. ”The group we picked up yesterday—they’ll only draw the Alliance’s attention”

Draeven chuckled under his breath, the sound brittle as cracking ice.

”The Alliance is drowning in larger battles. They won’t spare a fleet to chase down us or a bunch of deserters!”

Before the first mate could argue further, a voice called out from one of the forward consoles. ”Captain. The Nebula Carrier just altered course.”

That caught the captain’s attention. His eyes narrowed. ”What reason do they give?”

”They claim it’s... engine problems, sir.”

The captain’s scar twisted into something like a smile.

”Engine failure. Convenient.” He rose slightly from his throne, voice carrying the weight of cold steel. ”Any report from Brollak?”

”Vice-Captain Brollak is en route. He says he’ll explain in person.”

The command deck fell silent. Draeven’s fingers drummed against his blade, each tap sharp and measured, like ice shards striking metal.

”Fine. While he drags his feet, get me a full report from the other ships.”

A tense few seconds passed as the raider at the console worked. Then his face drained of color. ”Captain... the Vulture’s Fang is also not responding.”

The chamber’s temperature seemed to drop. Frost began creeping across the bone throne’s armrests as Draeven rose to his full height, blade now glowing with pale, hungry light.

”Someone dares... to toy with me.”

Then a ripple of energy pressed against the edges of his awareness; a familiar presence was approaching the command deck. The metallic doors hissed open. Vice Captain Brollak stepped in. At his side walked one of the raiders—a scar-faced magus the captain recognized from the crew.

”Brollak,” the captain said, frowning. ”What’s going on?”

Normally, his vice captain stood with the confidence of a warhound, but now his face was pale, drained of all composure. His lips trembled before he finally spoke.

”Boss... he has something important to report.” Brollak turned stiffly toward the scar-faced raider.

That was the moment the captain truly looked. He allowed his warrior’s instincts to pierce past the surface. Something about him scraped at the captain’s nerves, an unspoken warning. His hand moved on its own, blade flashing fully free as he barked:

”You! Who are you!?”

The scarred magus stepped forward with a casual ease, smiling as if the weight of the room’s hostility were nothing but background noise, amusement dancing in his eyes. ”It seems my concealment isn’t strong enough to fool a two Cosmos... but I wonder... how much can you truly see?”

As he spoke, his form rippled like water disturbed by a stone. The scarred visage peeled away, melting into something new. A young man stood revealed, plain-looking with brown hair, but his presence carried weight that pressed down on the command deck like the void itself.

Emery reveals his true form; his irises shimmer with unnatural light, the mark of a spirit technique at work.

The captain’s composure faltered. Fear was not something he easily entertained, yet now his pulse quickened. This young man was not what he seemed. Grand Magus realm, at least. Perhaps more. And if he could subdue Brollak so completely, without so much as a whisper of resistance reaching him, then he was either a two-cosmos existence like himself... or a Spirit Master of terrifying caliber.

His mind raced. For such a young-looking man to stand in this realm? Impossible. Unless what he saw was merely another layer of deception.

There was also the fact that this man had managed to infiltrate at least two of his ships without raising an alarm. The captain’s instincts told him there had to be others, unseen subordinates moving through his fleet.

The captain drew in a slow breath, then spoke again, this time with a measured, more courteous tone.

”What does a fellow Grand Magus intend?”

Emery noted the shift immediately. It was the familiar cadence of how Grand Magus experts across the Magus Universe conversed. They stood at the summit of power, beings whose clashes could collapse fleets and tear worlds. Out of necessity, they often chose words over violence, settling matters before calamity could follow.

”I do not wish to fight either,” Emery replied calmly. ”I want you to leave these refugees unharmed.”

The captain didn’t take long to consider before giving a small nod.

”That can be done.”

But Emery’s gaze did not waver. His voice pressed heavier against the silence.

”Also... you will hand this ship over to me.”

This time, the captain’s expression hardened, reluctance flashing across his features. The Azure Kraken was no mere vessel—it was his proudest trophy, a throne carved through decades of blood. His jaw tightened.

”Request something else!”

Emery gave the matter a moment’s thought. There were two warp-drive vessels in this fleet. Grand Magus Vayarel had already secured the other, the Vulture Fang. Technically, Emery didn’t need this one. But leaving it behind was too great a risk. With it, these raiders could retreat and return with more men, putting the refugees in danger all over again.

Emery’s eyes swept the chamber, lingering on the grisly trophies mounted across the command deck—skulls, banners, relics of the fallen. A slow smile curved his lips. He wanted to test the boundaries of his newfound power anyway.

”Then... let’s settle this with a duel. Your ship if I win... or my head as your new trophy.”

A proper duel was the best choice for both of them. Emery did not want his clash to endanger the thousands of refugees cowering aboard the captured fleet, and the raider captain surely did not wish his proud vessel to be torn apart in the crossfire.

The challenge was accepted, and with mutual agreement, both men flew out of the raider ship.

They were Grand Magus realm experts—beings who had ascended to the peak of mortal cultivation. Both of them hover freely in the void, their cosmic energy forming a natural barrier against the raw violence of space.

A mental voice intruded into Emery’s mind.

Emery’s expression barely shifted. His reply came calm, even casual.