Earth's Greatest Magus

The siege dragged on for three brutal days, each one filled with the relentless rhythm of battle. Hall 6’s acolytes, were on the front lines through every shift, forced to endure a constant barrage of attacks. The wall’s defensive barrier was broken five times during the three shifts they endured. Each breach was another desperate fight for survival as they held the line, shielding the gap until the supporting magus could arrive to repair the defenses. Klea’s spells and formation were a lifeline, reinforcing their defense, and bolstering their strength, but even her formidable magic couldn’t fully hold back the monstrous tide. The ogres were massive, towering over the acolytes, their hulking forms crashing against the walls, and no one under the Magus realm could stand against them. They were simply too powerful, too overwhelming. But even worse were the elven Dunmer sorcerers who wielded a terrifying combined magic. Emery had seen similar tactics before—during the Demon’s Pit battle, they employed the tier 7 spell—an inferno of meteors, lightning, that was strong enough to create a hole within the city’s formidable barrier. The spell required the combined power of multiple magus to be stopped, If Emery hadn’t been there to counter the elven spell, the acolytes would have been obliterated. The scale of the siege’s destruction became clear once the dust settled. The Citadel wall was lined with 40 defensive posts, each crucial to preventing the relentless orc horde from breaching the city. Yet, despite the efforts of the defenders, over a quarter of these posts failed to hold back the onslaught.

In some sectors, the orcs broke through, reaching the final city barriers and leaving the grand magus scrambling to contain the breaches. The coordinated response was as swift as it was desperate—a total of ten grand magus had to join the fray, wielding their powers to cover for the weakened defenses and plug the gaps, but even their intervention couldn’t prevent the staggering casualties.

More than one thousand soldiers had fallen during the three-day siege. Among the fallen were over a hundred magus. The battle had tested even the toughest warriors to their limits, and the survivors bore the signs of their struggle—many were injured, some severely.

When the orc forces finally retreated, a temporary, strained calm settled over the Citadel. The acolytes of Hall 6 could at last lower their weapons, grateful for the brief respite. Bodies slumped against the walls in exhaustion, their faces pale, hands still shaking from the intensity of the fight. They had done their best to hold their ground, and though weary, they had come out of the siege intact.

The dangerous battle had taken its toll not only physically but also in terms of their points. The acolytes’ exhaustion was mixed with frustration when the ranking updates arrived. Their efforts had barely maintained their lead.

[Top Hall Ranking – Day 8/30] [1st Place: Hall 6 – 40,980 Points] [2nd Place: Hall 2 – 39,260 Points] [3rd Place: Hall 1 – 37,850 Points] [5th Place: Hall 9 – 33,140 Points] After all the blood, sweat, and sacrifice, the acolytes found themselves disheartened, realizing their grueling efforts during the siege had not garnered the points they’d hoped for.

As for Emery, points were no longer his concern; he was simply relieved that none of his acolytes had lost their lives.

While they recovered, Emery took a moment for himself, retreating to his Khaos hub and reaching out to his daughter. Knowing she was out there on this war-torn planet had weighed on him. To his surprise, he learned that Shinta and the Hall 9 acolytes had also been deployed to the same planet. However, they were stationed at a more secure outpost, on the other side of the continent.

Their assignment was to protect the massive exodus of a few million of Valaryn’s remaining civilians. The task was grueling in its way, but it was evident that the central command had decided to evacuate rather than defend the planet indefinitely.

Emery’s conviction solidified. Staying here was a risk he could not justify. To protect his students, he needed to get them out of the city before the next siege began.

At noon, Emery joined the ranks of platoon leaders summoned to the command center. The hall was filled with officers from across the Valaryn operation, each bringing reports from the recent battle. At the center of it all was General Wayne Reeds, a three-cosmos grand magus whose authority emanated with an almost tangible weight. Emery noted the tension in the air as Major Zoller and six other officers of similar rank took their seats.

The meeting opened with Major Zoller, who presented the battle report with satisfaction. “We managed to annihilate half a million orcs,” he declared, his voice brimming with forced optimism. “It was a difficult… but successful battle.”

But the general’s face remained impassive. His gaze bore into Zoller, his voice flat and demanding as he asked, “How many elven magus?”

The room fell silent. Zoller hesitated, the confidence draining from his expression. He stammered, trying to gather himself. “Err… 20… no, 21 of them.”

A wave of quiet dismay passed over the officers. The major’s pride faltered under the collective realization. Those half-million orcs, though a staggering number, were merely fodder for the elven forces. Everyone knew the elves had vast resources to replenish the orc horde within weeks. The real cost, the one that would haunt them, was the 100 magus and over 1000 lives that had fallen on their side, compared to only 21 elven magus taken down.

The implications were painfully clear. The elves’ strategy was both brutal and effective—an unrelenting war of attrition designed to bleed the defenders dry. General Wayne let out a weary sigh, his voice weighed down by fatigue. “This is one of the worst battles we’ve faced in recent months,” he admitted his tone a mix of frustration and resignation.

But Major Zoller responded with an almost flippant tone. “Actually, General… on a positive note, half of the magus we lost weren’t from our military forces.”

The room went silent, and before anyone could react, an imposing female grand magus shot to her feet. “How dare you speak like that!” she spat, her voice echoing through the hall. “You Damn Bastard!! Are our Valaryn magus not a part of this alliance?”

Emery recognized her immediately: the Valaryn Princess, the last living heir of the Valaryn royal line. For three decades, she had watched her people suffer under the relentless waves of elven and orc assaults.

“You are way out of line!!” The princess’s words cut through the air, silencing Zoller’s smugness. The accusation in her voice was sharp. For her, every loss represented a name, a face, a piece of her heritage slipping away.

The Major, however, shamelessly defended himself, pointing to the vast resources provided by the alliance to support the planet’s defense. General Wayne quickly intervened. “Enough, Major Zoller,” he said sharply, giving the man a stern look. “Show some respect to the dead!” He then forces the Major to apologize to the princess.

The general’s words managed to diffuse the princess’s anger, but the air remained thick with unspoken resentment and bitterness. To Emery, it was clear: the alliance was faltering, fractured under the immense pressure.

As the meeting wrapped up, Emery was left feeling even more uneasy. General Wayne’s closing remarks were simply words of encouragement, with no fresh strategy or concrete plan for the upcoming battles. Emery’s instincts screamed that this was a bad sign, and he quickly approached Major Zoller, hoping to reason with him about reassigning his acolytes to a less perilous post.

But when he approached the Major, it was clear that Zoller wasn’t in the mood for negotiation. The Major shot him a sharp glance, and without a word, dismissed his attempts to argue.

Emery’s mind raced. Everything about the current assignment felt wrong. He had already started formulating a plan to contact the academy, to report on the dire conditions and discuss his options. If the situation didn’t improve, he would even consider pulling his acolytes out of this mess, even if it meant abandoning the group exam. He couldn’t risk their lives any further—not for an exam, not for any military campaign.

As he prepared to leave the meeting, Emery was stopped by one of the elite guards. “Magus Emery, the general requests your presence,”