Earth's Greatest Magus

Evalice, the first-year spider half-blood, faced the towering, muscular golden-ranked acolyte with rank 78 etched into his insignia. His sneer dripped with malice as he taunted her, “I’ve been waiting for payback for all you did to us back in Veloria.”

Evalice’s voice was sharp, filled with disdain. “Are you blind? I wasn’t even there!.”

Her frustration from being barred from the previous exam seethed beneath her calm exterior, and now, she aimed to release that anger. But this golden ranker wasn’t to be underestimated. His towering physique and battle-hardened experience made him a dangerous opponent.

With a flick of her hand, Evalice’s poisoned strings lashed out, thin threads slicing through the air with lethal intent. Her spider familiars scuttled across the ground, seeking to wound and weaken him. The threads found their mark, leaving shallow cuts across his body, while the spiders bit into his legs. Yet, despite the damage, his sheer strength allowed him to push through all her attacks.

In a moment of recklessness, the golden-ranked fighter managed to grab Evalice’s arm, his grip like a steel vice. “Got you now, little spider.” His sneer widened, eyes gleaming with savage delight. “Dammit!!” Evalice struggled, but his grasp was unrelenting.

Evalice found herself helpless beneath the merciless onslaught of the Nephilim acolyte. Each brutal strike sent shockwaves of pain through her body, and her sharp cries only fueled his bloodlust. His face twisted with cruel delight as he reveled in her agony. “Good… scream harder! I love to hear girls scream,” he taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure.

Evalice’s vision blurred from the pain, her limbs were barely able to respond.

Just as she was about to be dealt another devastating blow, a sudden force crashed into the arena. King Rig charged in with the force of a battering ram sending the Nephilim sprawling across the ground.

The impact left the crowd in stunned silence as the Mayan Warrior quickly scooped up the battered Evalice in his arms. “Are you alright?!” Evalice, though wounded, was far from grateful. Her fury flared as she realized what had just happened. KingRig action, entering the arena led to the disqualification of the female half-blood.

“You… you… MORON!!! I can still fight!!” Her voice was a venomous growl, her anger boiling over.

King Rig, oblivious to her frustration, was momentarily stunned, his heroic intentions completely backfiring. Emery and the rest of the Hall 33 crew could only sigh at the chaotic turn of events. Emery, standing with arms crossed, spoke,

“To make up for this…you have to win two fights”

King Rig’s face set with determination. “Yes, Master, I will!” His words brought a sneer from his opponent, who had risen back to his feet. “You stupid bastard!! You’ll pay for the—”

But before the Nephilim could finish his sentence, King Rig was already upon him.

In a flash, Khaos-enhanced lightning erupted from the Mayan warrior’s fists, crackling with explosive energy.

BAMMM!!! BAMM!! BAMM!!

King Rig fought with sheer brute force, without even drawing his axes. His fists and feet moved like thunderbolts, each strike carrying the weight of an earthquake. The arena shook under the relentless barrage and the Nephilim acolyte was unable to mount any defense against the overwhelming assault.

“Wait!!… Stop!! What!? Fuck! #%@!!”

The Nephilim’s protests were drowned out by the thunderous applause of the crowd, but King Rig didn’t relent. He continued his relentless bombardment, each powerful punch sending shockwaves through the arena.

Blow after blow rained down on the Nephilim, leaving him no room to counterattack. His once-arrogant sneer was replaced by sheer terror as he realized the full extent of KingRig’s power. The once-bullying fighter was now reduced to a whimpering mess, begging for the assault to cease.

Unable to bear the humiliation any longer, the Nephilim instructor intervened, yanking his acolyte away from the arena.

He sent out his next champion—a golden insignia acolyte ranked 43.

This new opponent was visibly stronger, enough to force King Rig to give his absolute best.

King Rig took out his axes and fought valiantly, but the fatigue from his previous fight began to weigh heavily on him. The new Nephilim was no pushover, exchanging powerful strikes and quick counters that kept the Mayan warrior on his toes.

Despite the exhaustion settling in his bones, KingRig couldn’t shake Evalice’s cold gaze from the sidelines. Her icy demeanor sparked something within him—a burning determination to prove himself and make amends. With each strike, he pushed back against the pain, channeling his energy into every blow.

The fight stretched on, both acolytes trading heavy hits and maneuvering with skill. The arena erupted with cheers, urging them on as they battled for dominance. When the dust settled and the cheers faded into a roar of triumph, KingRig stood battered but victorious. Sweat and bruises marked his body, but the thrill of winning pulsed through him as he stepped out of the arena.

Yet, as he turned to seek Evalice’s approval, he was still met with her unforgiving stare. “….”

All eyes shifted to the arena, now focused on the Nephilim’s last champion, Raphael, the genius ranked 9, their trump card. He strode onto the stage with an air of confidence, his bluish crystal sword shimmering in the light, ready for battle.

Emery’s heart raced with anticipation; he had planned that it would take both Blaine and Ha Ron together to defeat this formidable genius.

Blaine, eager to prove himself, bounded onto the stage with a fiery determination to win the fight himself. However, as the battle commenced, it quickly became apparent that Raphael’s swordsmanship was on another level.

After more than a hundred exchanges, the Nephilim’s swordplay began to overwhelm Blaine, revealing cracks in his formidable armor.

However, Blaine’s resolve didn’t waver. In a moment of desperation, Blaine charged forward aggressively, allowing Raphael’s blade to pierce his chest.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, his two extraordinary arms grabbed hold of Raphael with a fierce grip and unleashed his innate flaming aura.

“ARGGHHH!!!” Raphael’s scream pierced the air, as Blaine’s scorching flames enveloped his opponent, igniting the arena in a blaze of light.

Yet, as the fire blazed, Blaine’s strength began to wane. The energy surged through him, but it wasn’t enough to sustain the onslaught. As the flames flickered, Blaine collapsed to the ground, unconscious, leaving the crowd in stunned silence.

With the match now tied at 4 to 4, tension crackled in the air as Ha Ron stepped forward, ready for the final showdown. His eyes were steely, and his posture resolute.

However, Raphael was already in dire condition. His once-proud stance now drooped, the energy he had exuded earlier diminished by exhaustion and pain.

Despite his fierce desire to continue fighting, the Nephilim instructor admitted defeat in the group fight, “We concede,”

Ha Ron’s disappointment was palpable. In stark contrast, the acolytes of Hall 33 erupted in jubilant cheers, their voices rising in a wave of excitement that swept through the arena.

Emery, however, remained silent. The Nephilim instructor’s admission of defeat only meant he was confident about the final match—the instructor battle.

He couldn’t help but think that the Nephilim had prepared to pull another trick on him.