Earth's Greatest Magus

Emery and the Hall 6 squad of 50 acolytes arrived at their designated dock within Nixar Space Station, ready to embark on their newly assigned mission.

The station bustled with activity; personnel and magus officers moved at an urgent pace. The acolytes, still adjusting to the intensity of this environment, observed the surroundings with a mix of awe and anticipation.

As they approached the logistics center, Klea stepped forward to meet the quartermaster, a military officer responsible for supplies and handed him their mission details.

The officer scanned the paperwork and soon, a stern-faced, middle-aged man approached them, a half-moon magus, accompanied by his small team of five crescent-moon magus.

“So, you’re our backup?” he questioned, his tone carrying an edge of skepticism.

Klea nodded. “I guess we are,” she replied.

The man’s eyes scanned over the acolytes, and his demeanor shifted from skepticism to frustration. His face twisted with exasperation as he muttered, “What the hell is this… Damn it. I asked for an elite squad, and this is what command sends for us?”

Recognizing the disrespect directed at his group, Emery stepped forward, his presence cast a sudden silence over the logistics team. “Is there a problem?” Emery asked.

The man soon realized that Emery was not only outranking him but was also a full-moon magus, his expression shifting from annoyance to hasty respect. “My apologies, sir… It has been a difficult week,” he stammered.

He quickly introduced himself as Sergeant Vorlax, the squad leader of a logistics team.

“Good, Sergeant,” Emery replied, his tone firm but understanding. “They are young and new, but I assure you that they will get the job done.”

“Yes, sir,” Vorlax responded, straightening his posture.

Without wasting any time, Emery gave the signal to commence their preparations.

Hardy the assigned platoon leader sprang into action, coordinating with the quartermaster to receive the cargo, he then called out to Evalice, who was leading her group of ten insectoid acolytes. He paired her with Titus, who was leading another group of ten to grab the spatial tube and carry it on their backs.

The spatial tubes, each towering at one meter, were imposing and hefty, weighing 200 kilograms apiece. They possessed a spatial dimension of 30 cubic meters, allowing for substantial storage within their seemingly compact exteriors. Each tube was filled with vital supplies: energy cubes, weapons, food, water, and assorted building materials.

Once all the cargo was accounted for and secured, the squad began to move toward the designated transport ship leaving the Space Station behind. Two fighter ships flanked them, their engines humming with the promise of protection.

As they ascended into the Nixar Expanse, a heavy tension filled the cabin. The acolytes exchanged worried glances, their previous excitement dampened by the shocking news they had received from the academy.

It had been reported that one of the eight destroyers that had departed alongside them from the academy had been heavily attacked, resulting in the tragic deaths of more than fifty acolytes.

Anxiety hung thick in the air. The young acolytes, many still novices to the brutalities of warfare. Emery, however, maintained a silent composure, his gaze fixed ahead. He refrained from offering words of reassurance or empty promises. In his mind, he believed that confronting this sense of dread was as much a part of their training as any combat they might face.

After three hours of tense travel, the transport ship finally approached its destination: a heavily fortified outpost on a barren Valaryn moon.

This outpost bustled with thousands of alliance troops, a disciplined hive of activity under the harsh exterior of defense turrets and metal barricades. The acolytes disembarked and under the supervision of Sergeant Vorlax, they swiftly unloaded five of their spatial cargo tubes, each containing vital supplies for the soldiers stationed here.

After securing their deliveries, the group moved toward the teleportation gate, ready to transfer them down to the planet’s surface. [Valaryn Planet]

Only twenty years ago, this planet had been a thriving human civilization, home to over a hundred million lives. Now, the once-bustling cities and fertile lands lay scarred and silent, twisted by the fires of war into a desolate battleground.

What had been a place of prosperity was now a haven for conflict, a harsh landscape where elves cultivated vast orc armies, hidden under thick, clouded skies that even the alliance’s aerial surveillance struggled to penetrate.

Emery and the acolytes arrived at an outpost, a heavily fortified stronghold nestled amidst ruins half-buried under the encroaching sands.

After distributing five more heavy cargo tubes, the true challenge awaited them: the final leg of their mission would take them deep into enemy territory, past the secure perimeter, and into the heart of elven-occupied zones. With ten remaining cargo tubes strapped securely, they prepared to transport the supplies through orc-infested regions to two distant outposts.

As they geared up, Hardy scanned the abandoned remnants of what once must have been a bustling city, now mostly rubble obscured by sand clouds. With an apprehensive glance at the expanse, he muttered, “We’re not walking the rest of the way, are we?”

“On foot? No.. no… We’d never make it!”

Sergeant Vorlax gestured toward their transport—a sand boat engineered for the rough desert landscape. Powered by spirit stones, the vehicle emitted a low, steady hum as it prepared to navigate the hostile terrain. Its reinforced frame and spacious design were more than capable of carrying both their team and the heavy cargo.

They all climbed aboard, steeling themselves for what lay ahead.

The sand boat skimmed over the unforgiving landscape, sending up clouds of dust as it sped forward. Eyes fixed on the barren surroundings, the acolytes sensed the rising tension with every mile. Just an hour to their destination, their path suddenly ground to a halt.

A shadow loomed on the horizon—a vast horde of orcs blocked the route.

Weapons were drawn, and the young acolytes felt their pulse quicken. The real-life battle had arrived much sooner than anticipated.