Earth's Greatest Magus

“Retreat!!”

The dark elf captain’s voice tore through the chaos, he glanced toward his remaining wyverns, poised to issue the final order to escape. But just as he gathered his breath to call them, a chilling scream erupted nearby.

He turned, eyes narrowing in alarm. One of his magus warriors was violently torn apart, his form splitting in a brutal explosion of blood, as though an invisible hand had ripped him asunder. The other elf Magus barely had a moment to register the horror before he was overwhelmed by five human magus, their combined assaults hammering him in relentless attacks.

“Another hidden expert…!” the captain hissed, fury twisting his features.

His eyes darted around, searching for the unseen attacker. But instead of staying to assist his struggling men, a primal instinct took hold, and he made a snap decision. He’d fight another day—today, survival was paramount.

Without hesitation, he abandoned his man and left the wyvern to stall Klea as a desperate diversion, while he surged skyward, blasting off like a comet away from the battlefield.

His figure blurred as he accelerated, streaking across the sands at a dizzying speed, with each second carrying him another mile away from the battlefield.

“No one could chase me at this speed!” he muttered, a flicker of vengeful satisfaction in his eyes. The thought of rallying reinforcements and returning to make those humans suffer for their insolence spurred him on.

But just as he surged forward, a creeping chill gnawed at his chest, unsettling his confidence. Ahead of him, the jagged outline of a mountain range loomed—the exact one he had left behind only moments before. His mind stuttered in disbelief.

“How is that possible?!” the captain gasped, his heart pounding in his chest.

He twisted mid-flight, glancing back over his shoulder. To his shock, the battlefield still lay just a few miles away distant yet visible, as if he hadn’t traveled far at all.

“An illusion?” He shook his head, realizing with mounting horror that it was something far more dangerous. “No… it’s spatial magic!”

Desperation clawed at him, and he poured every ounce of energy into a furious burst skyward, breaking through clouds in an attempt to tear free from the spell. But as he broke through, his gaze fell upon the battlefield yet again—right in front of him.

The sandy mountains encircled him in an endless loop, trapping him like prey in a web.

“A grand magus expert…” he whispered in disbelief, his voice trembling.

Panic overtook him as he looked afar and saw a figure joining the woman he’d fought earlier. This new arrival radiated a terrifying presence. He couldn’t sense the full extent of his power, but the sheer weight of it made his stomach twist. Fear overwhelmed his pride as he choked out, “I am just a low-rank warrior… please, let me go.”

The man glances at the female magus, a calm but questioning look in his eyes. “Should we let him go?”

Her expression hardened into a cold frown as she crossed her arms. “Didn’t you hear? He threatened to kill me… twice!”

The captain, eyes wide with terror, stammered, “N-No… I don’t…”

But before he could finish, the man’s gaze sharpened, his eyes glowing with an unnatural light. Emery’s [Spectral Gaze] locked onto him, piercing deep into his soul with a power that felt like cold steel slicing through his mind. His body froze mid-air, completely paralyzed, as an overwhelming force invaded his very essence. In the next instant, his form flickered and vanished from the sky, disappearing into Emery’s domain.

Before long, Magus Vorlax delivered a final, decisive blow, killing the last of the dark elf magus. Panting but resolute, he joined the others in the sky, exchanging a nod with Emery and Klea as they all cast their gaze downward.

On the ground below, the clash had slowed to a halt, and the victorious cheers of the acolytes began to rise above the sounds of battle. The hard-fought victory was theirs.

“We Won!!!”

Emery and Klea descended from the sky to meet the exhausted but triumphant acolytes.

A proud smile crossed Emery’s face as he addressed the group. “You all did great! Well done!” Klea moved among the wounded, her hands glowing with healing light as she soothed injuries and replenished strength, her touch bringing much-needed relief to those still shaken by the fight. Nearby, Hardy rallied the uninjured, encouraging them to scavenge the battlefield for anything useful.

“Gather whatever you can!” he called out. Unlike the rough-hewn orc warriors they often faced, the dark elves had brought valuable items into battle, and for Hall 6 acolytes—most of whom had come from the lower realms—these spoils would be immensely valuable.

The acolytes set to work, collecting middle-grade weapons, spirit stones, and potions from the dark elves’ bodies. Each item would be shared among them, as a reward for their efforts.

Emery, meanwhile, assessed his own prize from the skirmish. Ten wyverns were captured and thrown into his domain. He felt a surge of satisfaction as he imagined taming these creatures, knowing they would be invaluable additions to his forces.

When they returned aboard the sand boat, Magus Sirri awaited them, her expression stern but with a hint of approval. She has finished counting their accumulated points, ready for all to see. The acolytes crowded around, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten, and a cheer erupted as they read the rankings displayed before them.

[Top Hall Ranking – Day 2/30] [1st Place: Hall 6 – 18,510 Points] [2nd Place: Hall 1 – 12,225 Points]

They had managed to pull far ahead of the second-place hall, a result of their fierce efforts in slaying over 5,000 orcs and 15 dark elf warriors. The scale of the battle was high, but in the grand conflict between elves and humans, it would barely register as a small skirmish. For the Magus Academy, however, it was a notable achievement, a show of strength and skill that reflected well on Hall 6.

Emery observed his acolytes sprawled across the deck, weary but buzzing with the thrill of their success. With a sly smile, he couldn’t resist a playful jab. “Are you all tired already?”

The question had an obvious answer, but Hardy sensed there was more to it than Emery was letting on. He raised an eyebrow, skepticism in his voice. “Master… seriously?”

Emery responded with a faint, knowing smile, then closed his eyes and reached inward, accessing his domain. His consciousness drifted until he located his new dark elf captive. Staring down at the prisoner, Emery spoke with a quiet, steely tone.

“Now… you’re going to help us find a new target”