Earth's Greatest Magus

The Citadel was an impressive fortress, sculpted from solid rocks, its grandeur implying the handiwork of a powerful Magus.

A mile-wide sea of lava separated them from the Citadel, a molten moat that promised a fiery death. However, as they neared, a bridge magically raised from the scorching river, creating a path for them.

Thousands of Dreadspineer spiders were hot on their trail, scurrying across the bridge in relentless pursuit. Yet, their chase was cut short when the bridge submerged back into the lava sea, engulfing the spiders in a blaze and drowning their shrieks in a violent sizzle.

Once the last echoes of the spiders’ screams faded away, the group arrived and parked in front of the Citadel. The leader of the Space Knights dismounted the construct and bellowed, “Open up!!” Moments later, the gates creaked open, revealing a ragtag group of Magus, some brandishing similar projectile weapons.

“Slowly get out! One by one!!” They commanded, their voices stern and unyielding.

An exhaustive physical examination followed, conducted under the unyielding gazes of the guards. Despite their knowledge of the female commander’s dire condition, they meticulously scanned each new arrival with a laser-like focus, their vigilance unbroken.

Young Master Silo, a man of distinguished bearing, raised his voice in protest. “What is going on here?! Who are you people?!” His voice was a highborn lilt, smoothed by years of luxury, yet now twisted into a strained plea. “What do you want?!” His words bounced off the formidable stone walls, unanswered, swallowed by the silent watchers.

But then, from the imposing gate, an older magus stepped forward. Lines of age and experience were etched onto his weathered face, an aura of unmistakable authority surrounded him. His eyes, like twin celestial bodies, glowed with the power of the Full Moon realm, their penetrating gaze muting Silo’s protest like a candle extinguished in a storm.

The space knight, reported in a voice as gruff as grinding stones, “We only managed to bring back eleven of them.”

“Good work, Captain,” the older magus acknowledged, his gaze sweeping across the group like a falcon surveying its domain. His eyes finally rested on the dying female commander, recognizing her instantly. “She is Seraphina the Ironheart, Take her to Master Fleming, immediately.”

At his command, two of the ragtag magus quickly carried Seraphina away. The older man then turned back to the group, his gaze meeting each of their eyes in turn as he introduced himself, “I’m Commander Shepard. Like you, we are prisoners of the Demon’s Pit; we’ve simply been here a little longer.”

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over them before adding, “If you wish to enter this citadel, you must abide by my commands.” His voice echoed in the quiet, a chilling reminder of their situation.

Their surroundings, a formidable citadel carved from solid rocks, stood as a stark testament to their reality. Rising against the backdrop of a mercilessly burning sky, its stone façade bore the marks of countless confrontations, yet stood unbowed. 

As the group passed through the citadel’s imposing gate, a world unlike anything they had seen before unfolded before them. The raw energy of magic saturated the air, bristling against Emery’s senses, as he picked up the presence of over a hundred human magus within the stronghold. Each one was an amalgamation of desperation, resilience, and sheer will to survive – a somber testament to the realities of the Demon’s Pit.

The structure of the citadel was grandiose in its ruggedness, a fortress hewn from the heart of the landscape. The formidable stone walls, adorned with dozens of Magus guards at their posts, towered over the internal expanse of the compound. The harsh, unwavering gaze of the guards was reflected in the glittering devices mounted onto the thick walls.

Emery then saw the mobile construct move across the expansive yard with a thunderous rumble, kicking up a storm of dust and pebbles. It finally pulled to a halt by what seemed to be a metallic workshop, humming with an undercurrent of activity. Several magus, their robes smeared with grime and streaks of oil, descended upon the vehicle. They moved with the practiced efficiency of those well-acquainted with their craft, their hands darting in and out of the construct’s innards, checking its condition.

A little away from the vehicle, other magus were carefully pulling out several bodies to be taken inside the citadel’s main building. Their movements were respectful, yet mechanical – a grim routine in this harsh world. Seeing the lifeless forms, Commander Shepard’s expression hardened, his gaze distant.

He then began to explain the situation. Each week, a cargo of human prisoners was sent plummeting down into the hellish landscape. The time and location of the drops varied, and this time, it had fallen dangerously close to the Elven side of the planet. 

“Fortunately, Captain Steele here was swift,” the Commander continued, a hint of admiration seeping into his gravelly voice. The Captain in question was the space knight who had led the daring rescue mission. At the mention of his name, the two surviving space knights quickly saluted, their faces a mix of relief and reverence. Evidently, Steele was a figure of high regard among the Imperium knights.

The Commander once more addressed the group, his gaze sweeping over each face. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t high-value prisoners,” he noted, the implication hanging heavy in the air. Each of them harbored secrets, valuable enough to land them here, in the jaws of the Demon’s Pit. His gaze hardened, a steely resolve flickering in his eyes as he added, “But I hope you all are ready to set that aside for our common goal… survival.”

Commander Shepard began to personally acquaint himself with each of the new arrivals, among the 10, two stood up from the rest.

The elderly magus, master of kinetic magic, was a full moon called Yurek, he was once an influential magus until an incident that led to his declining health. The second one, the tattooed half-moon magus from Coven of Shades was called Wex. He has a reputation for massacring an enemy outpost by himself. When the commander went to approach Emery, before Emery could utter his own introduction, a different voice filled the air, beating him to it.

“He’s Emery Ambrose the Savage Acolyte, third place in the Magus Academy tournament before it was destroyed,” announced a man with a distinct familiarity. This interruption wasn’t from Atlas but from a middle-aged man with blonde hair who was flashing a warm smile.

Recognition washed over Emery in a wave of nostalgia and shock. The man was none other than Urix Wellenstein, an esteemed instructor from the Light Academy, who had mentored Emery in the art of light elemental magic for several weeks. Despite the brevity of their time together, Urix held a special place in Emery’s memories, sharing a pedestal with his beloved master, Xion.

Emery was left momentarily stunned at the sight of Urix, his mind a whirlwind of questions. The last memory he had of the Magus was before the bloody Incursion at the academy, an event that leave to the destruction of the academy. 

“It’s good to see you again, Emery,” Urix greeted

Before Emery could return the greeting, Urix continued, his voice echoing with enthusiasm as he properly introduced Emery to the commander. “He is a powerful wolf bloodline and dual proficient in nature and darkness, a space magic!”

Emery swiftly interrupted him, “I can no longer cast my darkness spell due to an injury,” he clarified, a note of disappointment edging his words. This piece of information drew a frown on Urix’s face.

“That’s too bad, really too bad,” Urix muttered, sharing Emery’s lament. However, he quickly added, “But I can still contribute with tasks related to nature magic and my apothecary skills.”

Upon hearing this, the commander instructed Emery to join the healers’ group. Urix eagerly seconded the idea. “Yes, you are coming with me!” he declared, steering Emery away from the crowd.

Emery had hoped to catch up with Atlas, but Urix appeared to have something urgent that required his attention. “It’s the woman you brought with us. We’d like to know exactly what happened,” Urix said, signaling towards Seraphina, the Ironheart.

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