Earth's Greatest Magus

The night’s chill air was penetrated by Ezzekiel’s rage, “That wretched bastard! May the abyss itself hunger for his damned soul, and may the shadows swallow his very existence until not even a whisper of his name remains!”

Ezzekiel stood atop a hill, looking over the vast and unpredictable landscape. His silver eyes narrowed, reflecting the frustration that consumed him. It had been nearly two agonizing months since he had set foot on this planet, and yet, his human prey eluded him, dancing always just out of reach.

The crescent moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows that seemed to mock his failed attempts. Last month, his search had hit an all-time low; they couldn’t even sense the faintest imprint of their target. He clenched his fists, the black gauntlets squeaking under the pressure.

Had Ezzekiel not had his Khaos guardian fused within him, he might have entertained the whispers circulating among his underlings: that their prey was already dead, or perhaps had fled the planet. But the guardian, a symbiotic entity of Khaos, kept him tethered to a hope that his quarry was still somewhere near.

Indeed, his situation held a bitter irony. It was both a stroke of luck and a curse that his prey wasn’t a Khaos champion. A champion would have access to the mystic waypoints — a network of shortcuts through space — making him even more impossible to catch. But the very fact that he wasn’t a champion also restricted the range of Ezzekiel’s guardian to a mere 500-mile radius. Day in and day out, he scoured this expanse, each passing sunset only deepening his ire, for it bore no trace of the man he sought.

But time wasn’t just a challenge in his hunt; it also pressed against him from the shadows of his own commitments. The High Warden, an entity not known for its patience, had issued a decree. Ezzekiel’s prolonged hunt was holding up the operations of the Demon’s Pit.. Hundreds of high-value prisoners, their fates sealed in chains, awaited transfer to the planet. 

It was in this climate of frustration that an unlikely figure sought his audience. Kieran, an elf prisoner approached him with a grace.

“What do you want now? Get lost!”

Despite Ezzekiel’s obvious frustration, Kieran remained composed. He gracefully knelt, his dark cloak pooling around him on the cold stone floor. With an air of respect, he addressed Ezzekiel, “Sedura, my exalted, I humbly present myself. If it pleases you, I have come once more to extend an offer of aid.”

In any other circumstance, Ezzekiel might have ignored the plea, but desperation gnawed at him, driving him to entertain any avenue of assistance. The hint of a potential solution in Kieran’s tone made him pause.

“Please Sedura, let me show you something”

With a begrudging nod, he allows Kieran to lead the way.

They journeyed silently for a few miles, until they reached across a rocky mountain, revealing an expansive clearing. Ezzekiel’s footfalls halted as his eyes widened, taking in the sight before him.

Arrayed in neat formations, tens of thousand orcs stood. Their monstrous forms were oddly disciplined, a stark contrast to their usual unruly nature. They stood as a singular unit, eyes forward, awaiting orders. The very air around them buzzed with restrained energy.

Kieran, with a hint of pride in his voice, explained, “Yes, exalted one, I have gained the ability to command them. With your blessings, I propose we open up additional lairs, allowing these orcs to serve in furthering your mission.”

Ezzekiel’s earlier irritation seemed to dissolve as the implications of this horde dawned on him. His gaze shifted from the orcs back to the dark elf, calling him by name as shown on respect “Kieran if you must, break open all the lairs on this planet. Deploy them all.”

Kieran’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, his confidence evident. With another elegant bow, he responded, “Your will be done, Sedura. I shall see to it immediately.”

####

A vast expanse of distance away, in a secluded chamber deep underground, Emery sat cross-legged, deep within a meditative trance, and delved into the mysteries of the spirit realm. Over time, he had shattered 20 dark elves’ spirit souls, and each process brought him closer to a momentous breakthrough.

His relentless pursuit wasn’t solely about amassing Katra or rejuvenating his own spirit soul. With each interaction, with every conversation he held with the trapped souls of the dark elves, Emery’s understanding expanded. They inadvertently painted him a vivid picture of the Demon’s Pit, the colossal space fortress that ominously orbited above, and the intricate tapestry of the dark elf culture.

On occasions when his curiosity got the better of him, Emery would reach out to one particular soul he had kept as a reserve. Lyanna Darkmoon, a dark elf noble whose spirit soul has been encapsulated and embedded into a gleaming metal emblem.

His training sessions were intense. At times, he’d push his boundaries by connecting with two spirit souls simultaneously. It was a challenging endeavor, but with Lyanna’s somewhat reluctant cooperation, he succeeded. This connection, this bond, allowed Emery to craftily extract deeper truths, coaxing the dark elves into divulging information they would otherwise fiercely guard.

From the depths of the emblem, Lyanna’s voice resonated, tinged with weariness and a hint of hope,

Emery, his voice soft but firm, responded, “Your time will come. Soon enough.”

Taking a much-needed respite from the intense rigors of spirit training, Emery would often wander into his makeshift apothecary. As he now regains access to his storage filled with hundreds of ingredients, Emery plans to create more options to help their escape.

Among the many concoctions, he was eager to experiment with, one particular substance stood out: the [Mysterious green essence] extracted from the orc lairs of this harsh planet.

Emery was also in need to get more of the weed and mushroom to create the [Soul Rejuvenating Incense] that has gone down in supply. Driven by this quest, he led the group to one of the largest orc lairs they had encountered. 

Upon entering the dark, dank caverns, a sense of disquiet settled over the group. The orcs’ behavior was different this time, more erratic, as if something had stirred them into unrest. Their snarls and grunts echoed through the labyrinthine passages, a cacophony that set everyone on edge.

“Something’s not right,” Emery murmured. “These orcs are restless…”

They ventured further, cautiously navigating through the winding tunnels until they stumbled upon a familiar sight: a hidden pool, lush with aquatic weeds and mushrooms.

Emery was focused on the extraction when Atlas, the half-machine, suddenly halted them. His sensors were active, pulsing with strange energy as he conducted a [seismic scan]. His metallic voice, usually calm and measured, wavered with excitement. “I detected a huge chamber, further below… its…”

Emery’s eyes narrowed. Curiosity tugged at him, but he was not one to take unnecessary risks, especially not in such a place. “Ignore it, Atlas. We have what we came for.”

But before Emery could restrain him, the half-machine dashed down a previously unnoticed tunnel.

“Wait!” With frustration evident in his voice, Emery called out to the disappearing figure of Atlas, “What are you thinking, Atlas?!” The unpredictable actions of the half-machine were putting everyone in peril. 

As they delved deeper into the tunnel, the heat grew palpable, intense, and searing. Master Borin, with a much lower physical body, found it difficult to push through the oppressive heat that rose with every step. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and it became clear that he wouldn’t be able to go any further.

Concerned for the well-being of the blacksmith master, Emery summoned forth a clone to guard the blacksmith master as he go down further, and quickened his pace.

After what seemed like miles, the tunnel opened up to reveal a huge chamber, and at its center was a vast lake of molten lava, glowing with a fierce and intense brightness, casting fiery reflections on the scorched walls.

Atlas stood there, transfixed by the lake, his metallic sensors whirring and flashing. “Atlas! What is going on?” 

The half-machine responded without turning, his hands pressed firmly against the ground as if trying to connect with something. “There’s something below, Beneath the molten lava. Can you sense it?”

Emery was reluctant at first, his spirit reading capabilities were hindered this far beneath the surface, but he still follow Atlas’s request. Drawing upon his vast reservoir of magic, he invoked the [8 elements transmutation technique]. Merging a fire spell with a root spell, he summon a flaming arm that reached out, cautiously probing the molten depths of the lake.

ραΠdαsΝοvel.cοm It was then that he realized there was indeed something down there,… its human figure. Surprisingly, his probing creates some kind of reaction, the submerged figure began to stir, slowly rising through the thick, glowing liquid.

Emery’s eyes widened in alarm as the form emerged and a face became discernible.

To his shock, it was a man he recognized.

“Eeshoo!!”