Earth's Greatest Magus

While Emery continued his grueling battle against the female grand magus Syltrith, ten miles away, Major Zoller stood on a rocky vantage point, observing the fight with disbelief. “To think the reports were true… He’s only a magus and can fight like that?! No wonder Lady Ishtar wants him dead.”

Zoller’s gaze remained fixed on the chaotic duel in the distance, where Emery’s raw power was on full display against Syltrith’s deadly techniques. For a moment, the major faltered in his resolve, torn between admiration for the young magus and the weight of his orders.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a magus squad leader; his armor scorched from the skirmish. “Sir, we’ve successfully eliminated all the elves’ warriors. Should we proceed to assist the lieutenant?”

Zoller’s expression twisted into irritation as he barked, “What?! Are you blind? Can’t you see all those orcs? Go fight them next!”

The squad leader hesitated, visibly conflicted. “But sir, the orcs cannot breach the lieutenant’s nature spells. Besides, the sooner he wins his battle, the sooner he can start teleporting us all to safety.”

“Huh!” Zoller scoffed, waving dismissively. “What do you know? Those nature spells must have a limitation! Do you want to risk them failing and bringing harm to the civilians? Now stop questioning me and start cleaning up those orcs!”

The magus fidgeted before stammering, “But sir… if you could maybe assist us, we could redirect our forces to aid the lieutenant.”

Zoller’s frustration boiled over, his voice rising. “Dammit! I’m here to ensure that Grand Magus doesn’t suddenly turn on the civilians! Now do your job and follow my orders!”

“Yes… Yes, sir!” the magus said, retreating quickly.

As the soldier departed, Zoller gritted his teeth, the tension within him palpable. He muttered under his breath, “Those damn elves… I’ve already revealed his identity and created this opportunity. Why can’t they finish the job?! Stupid…only making my life harder.”

####

Four hundred miles away, the siege of the Valaryn Citadel entered its critical stage. The once-imposing fortifications were battered and crumbling. The orcish war machines, the Wrathcrawlers, had completed over a dozen relentless cycles of bombardment, their crude yet effective designs unleashing devastation upon the city barriers.

The defenders had fought valiantly, but the second and third barriers had been destroyed. Now, only a single shimmering energy barrier stood between the advancing horde and the citadel itself.

Despite more than a million orcs falling within a few hours, the relentless horde pressed forward, undeterred by the staggering losses. These brutish creatures were the embodiment of war’s grim efficiency—tireless, fearless, and utterly obedient. Their massive bodies piled into grotesque mounds before the citadel walls, creating grisly barricades that their comrades trampled without hesitation. Each wave was as determined as the last, driven by an unyielding purpose to break through the final barrier protecting the Valaryn Citadel.

From atop the towering walls, thousands of saint-level warriors stood as the citadel’s first line of defense. These elite fighters coordinated swift, deadly counterattacks, leaping down to thin the advancing ranks of orcs before retreating to safety. Each strike was calculated, targeting key clusters of the enemy to disrupt their relentless charge.

Supporting them from fortified positions were hundreds of magus stationed across forty defensive posts. These magus unleashed devastating spells designed to obliterate swaths of enemies in an instant. Firestorms roared, earth shattered beneath the orcs’ feet, and bolts of arcane energy rained down with lethal precision. Every moment was a desperate effort to relieve the overwhelming pressure bearing down on the citadel’s shimmering barrier.

But the orcs were not the only threat. Behind their brutish front lines stood the dark elves; they orchestrated the assault with devastating precision. These magus had prepared insidious countermeasures and unleashed a deadly long-range barrage of spells that swept across the battlefield.

One squad, executing a daring strike to cull the orcs’ ranks, was caught in the blast of a combined fire spell. The searing inferno consumed them before they could retreat. Screams of pain echoed as another squad fell to a barrage of poisoned projectiles conjured by the enemy magus.

The losses were immediate and devastating. The defending squads were obliterated one after another as the enemy’s coordinated spells tore through their ranks. Replacement forces rushed to the walls, their expressions grim but resolute. Each wave of defenders seemed smaller, their numbers dwindling with every attack.

As the battle raged on, the citadel’s defenders found themselves increasingly cornered. The barrier protecting the city flickered faintly—a subtle but ominous sign of its growing instability.

####

Within the enemy’s main camp, the air was tense yet electric with anticipation. The Red Demon, Agis, stood atop a makeshift observation platform, his fiery eyes fixed on the siege in front of him. His scarlet armor gleamed under the torchlight, and the aura of his immense power made the officers around him wary.

Despite his bloodlust and reputation for leading charges, Agis showed uncharacteristic restraint. His fingers twitched with the urge to mount his dragon and rain destruction upon the citadel personally. But the weight of command demanded discipline.

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“They only have one barrier left,” he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the murmurs of his officers. “And yet, they haven’t sent out a single grand magus to defend it. Why is that?”

One of his magus advisors stepped forward, bowing slightly. “I believe they are afraid, my Khan. They know the battle is lost and are merely biding their time for a retreat.”

Agis’s expression remained unreadable, but the silence that followed was heavy with skepticism.

Another voice cut in—Azula, their intelligence officer “My Khan, I believe there is more to it than fear. It is said the citadel houses a powerful artifact, the Valaryn Seal. Perhaps they’re counting on this treasure to turn the tide.”

At this, Agis’s lips curled into a wicked grin. “A treasure, you say? Excellent. Let’s hope this battle isn’t as dull as it seems.”

After noticing the Red Demon’s smile, Azula seized the opportunity to deliver another report. “My Khan, I have received word that Syltrith and her assassins are encountering difficulties capturing the target.”

“She is?” Agis’s expression shifted, his fiery gaze narrowing. “Huh! I should’ve gone after him myself!” His voice carried a mix of annoyance and frustration.

Azula quickly interjected, her tone calm yet firm. “My Khan, with all due respect, that wouldn’t be proper. You are the commander of this army.”

“I don’t need you to keep reminding me!” Agis snapped, though his irritation was tempered by a grudging acknowledgment of her point.

Azula took a step forward. “Then allow me to go, my Khan. I have my own grievances against him… Let me catch him for you.”