Earth's Greatest Magus

Two months ago, Thrax donated a significant amount of merit points to the Magus Alliance, earning him permission to return home to Earth.

As the spacecraft he boarded on descended upon Kronos Base, located on the mysterious and desolate dark side of the moon, the caretakers of the planet seemed determined to put obstacles in his path. Their attempts, however, proved futile as they failed to find any legitimate grounds to deny his request.

Thrax, a distinguished figure with numerous notable military achievements under his belt, held the rank of a mere acolyte, far from attaining the prestigious title of a magus. Consequently, he posed a minimal threat to the denizens of the lower realm.

The only possession the caretakers sought to confiscate from him was his valuable tier 6 weapon—a weapon he had painstakingly acquired and one that held both sentimental and practical value to him. Regrettably, Thrax was forced to expend the majority of his hard-earned savings to secure the safe transportation of his cherished armament back to Earth.

Frustrated by the turn of events, Thrax muttered, “Huh! If only you had listened to me and concealed yourself within the storage rings, none of these infuriating circumstances would have unfolded!”

With a hint of exasperation, Thrax retorted, “Huh! You better make it up to me later!”

”

As the heated argument between Thrax and the sentient weapon raged on, their quarrel was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of Hermes, one of the esteemed Kronos Magus.

Sporting an air of condescension, Hermes approached Thrax, his words dripping with derision. “So, I hear you’ve become quite the veteran. A big shot, aren’t you?”

Thrax shot a piercing glare in Hermes’ direction with irritation.

Seeing Thrax gaze Hermes said “what’s with the look? Do you need a ride down or Not!?”

The annoyed immortal gladiator turned his attention back to his trusted weapon, and posed a question, “Gae Bolg, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Gae Bolg responded,

With an air of confidence, Thrax addressed the young looking Magus before him and declared, “I don’t need a ride.”

Hermes, caught off guard by Thrax’s response, let out a mocking laugh. “Hahaha! Really? tough guy aren’t you?, you are not a magus, you won’t last five minutes out there!”

Little did Hermes know that Thrax had a surprise in store for him. As Gae Bolg’s powers surged, the formidable spear artifact began encasing Thrax’s body in a layer of dark, metallic armor.

Suddenly, like a streaking missile, Thrax shot off into space, hurtling towards Earth.

The journey was far from easy for the gladiator. In order to endure the three-hour ride, he had to convert his spirit force to fuel his propulsion. The strain intensified as he plunged into the Earth’s atmosphere, encountering the tumultuous turbulence that awaited him.

Gae Bolg urged, struggling to maintain its energy output.

Not one to back down, Thrax replied with grim determination, “”

Though the arduous journey took its toll, Thrax persevered. Finally, as he breached through the blanket of clouds, a profound sense of accomplishment washed over him. The sweat and toil had been worth it.

Gae Bolg pleaded, nearing its limits.

Breathing heavily, Thrax retorted,

Britannia was his intended destination—a place where he could deliver the news about Emery to Klea. However, Thrax’s unfamiliarity with Earth’s geography led him astray. Disoriented, he found himself on the wrong side of the ocean, prompting him to beseech Gae Bolg once more for assistance.

Undeterred by the weapon’s admonition, Thrax pressed on. After an hour of flight, his body weary and to his even more surprised, the artifact he was wearing suddenly shutting down by itself.

Thrax plummeted from the sky, crashing into the vast expanse of the ocean below.

Burdened by the weight of his armor, Thrax struggled to stay afloat despite his exceptional battle prowess. Gasping for breath, he desperately called out to the weapon, “Gae Bolg!! Buddy, it’s not time to sleep!”

In a moment of life-or-death, Thrax pushed himself to the limits of his endurance, channeling his inner strength towards the nearest shore. However, the land seemed to elude him, and as his spirit energy dwindled and he prepared to succumb to the watery depths, salvation unexpectedly arrived in the form of a small fishing boat.

“Uncle, are you dead?!” a young boy and an old man aboard the boat exclaimed as they pulled Thrax aboard.

Awakening in a small fishing village nestled on the westernmost continent, which belonged to the Arverni tribes of Gaul, Thrax felt a sense of familiarity wash over him. The villagers, numbering only a few hundred, were simple folk—proud fishermen and warriors. In their humble abode, Thrax found echoes of his old village in Thrace.

Over the course of a few days, Thrax immersed himself in the village’s daily life and learned about the ever-expanding Roman Empire. News of Rome’s vast territorial conquests reached his ears—eastern Germania and southern Hispania had fallen under Roman control.

While some Gaulish tribes dared to resist the invading force, the small Arverni village remained trapped in Rome’s clutches, forced to pay tributes in gold and sacrifice their youth to be taken to the heart of the empire.

Hatred simmered among the people, but the overwhelming might of Rome prevented them from rising up in defiance. The tribes remained divided and subdued, unable to mount a united front against the greatest power on Earth.

Above all threats and fear of the future, the young fisherman boy name was proud as he share his dream about becoming a great warrior—a Vercingetorix— a title given to great supreme leader of the Gauls and unite the tribe to defeat the Rome invaders.

The innocence of the boys dream felt a pang in his heart. However, he has no wish to wage war against Rome anymore, not since the death of Spartacus and his newfound identity in magus universe.

Thrax had resolved to leave the troubles of Earth behind and fulfill his obligations as protector of Earth and right now he has responsibility to go to Britannia.

With a heavy heart, Thrax bid farewell to the Arverni village, setting sail for the island on the North. 

It took him some time to finally find the Fey Forest, and the stone formation mention by Emery, but upon discovering that Klea had been absent for the past three years, he quickly abandoned the idea and embarked on his next adventure.

“Perhaps Egypt should be my next stop. Or maybe I should make a quick detour to Rome for a little amusement,” Thrax mused, a mischievous grin forming on his face. The prospect of anyone recognizing him in the Roman capital held an amusing appeal.

Deciding to catch the next available ship, fate intervened, leading Thrax to land near a battlefield—a clash between Gaulish tribes and Roman soldiers. His blood surged with a desire to join the fight, but a voice within him cautioned,

“No, Thrax, this is not your fight!”

As he passed through the Arverni camp, a piece of devastating news reached Thrax’s ears. Without hesitation, he retraced his steps, rushing back to the fishing village he had recently departed. What awaited him was a scene of utter destruction—flames had reduced the village to a charred ruin.

He found himself the body of the boy on charred by flames.

“Urrgghhh!! Romans!!! You going to pay for this!!”

His previous anger toward Rome has returned, and determined to make a stand, Thrax resolved to join the Arverni army and take up arms against the oppressors.

Finally his desire to visit Rome burned brighter than ever. This time, however, he planned to bring the full force of the Gaulish army with him—a force that would shake the very foundations of the mighty Roman Empire.