Earth's Greatest Magus

The scheme took far longer than planned, adding precious hours to an already precarious mission. Despite the delay, the 15 remaining Magus held their ground admirably, repelling waves of orc attackers as they marched toward the next checkpoint. Their discipline and determination ensured that the civilians in their care remained safe, albeit at great personal cost.

Emery’s arrival brought a glimmer of hope to many of the civilians, and the magus squads in charge were equally relieved—until he delivered the grim news of Major Zoller’s downfall.

Given the danger they had just experienced and the heavy toll of magus and civilian deaths, no one questioned the details of the Major’s demise.

“We’re glad you’re safe, sir,” the man said, his tone a mixture of respect and genuine relief.

Emery gave him a curt nod but wasted no time with pleasantries. “We cannot rest just yet,” he said firmly. “Let’s move forward.”

Opening a portal, Emery directed the group toward the third checkpoint. Upon arrival, they regrouped with Grand Magus Agave, the shaman who had been diligently clearing a path for their caravan. Agave’s presence brought additional reassurance to the group. Now, with the final civilian batch under their protection, the Grand Magus decided to accompany them, reinforcing the caravan’s defenses for the journey ahead.

Emery knew time was of the essence. To make up for lost hours, he used his mastery over the law of space to open another portal, swiftly transporting the caravan to the fourth checkpoint. There, he reunited with Klea and the rest of the acolytes who had secured the eighth batch of evacuees.

Every second was precious, and Emery pushed himself to the limit, repeatedly casting his spatial gate spell to transport the group to the fifth checkpoint. The civilians, though exhausted, marched onward and finally found some respite upon reaching the Ruin City outpost.

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Meanwhile, chaos reigned in Citadel City. The siege had raged for ten grueling hours, leaving a vast swath of destruction in its wake. The orc forces had suffered catastrophic losses—80% of their army lay dead on the battlefield. However, the elven forces remained formidable, their disciplined ranks bolstered by 25,000 elite warriors and nearly 1,000 Magus combatants ready for the final assault.

Azula returned to the elven main force. She approached the towering figure of the Red Demon, kneeling before him to deliver her grim report.

The news darkened Agis’s expression. His annoyance was palpable, a storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. Yet, the presence of Zoller’s lifeless body mitigated his fury. The Major’s corpse spared Azula from immediate punishment.

Despite her fear, Azula summoned her courage. “My Khan… what of the savage Magus? Are we just going to let him go?” The Red Demon cast her a disappointed glance, his tone laced with disdain. “It’s out of our hands,” he said. “Another group has claimed him.”

Azula’s mind raced. Another group? All the other Grand Magus were fully occupied with the ongoing battle. Who else could have been sent to capture or confront Emery?

Before she could dwell further on the mystery, the battlefield’s attention shifted to a moment long anticipated—the final destruction of the Citadel’s last barrier.

Agis’s demeanor changed instantly, his disappointment replaced by a twisted excitement. “It’s time,” he declared, his voice booming over the din of the battlefield.

The sound of battle horns echoed across the plains as the elven forces surged forward. Their march was relentless, a wave of steel and magic converging on the Citadel’s battered walls.

The elven Grand Magus spearheaded the assault. Draven and Zeryntha, two fearsome two Cosmos-level Magus, launched coordinated attacks from the east and west, while four more Grand Magus struck from the north and south. Their power illuminated the battlefield, their spells tearing through the Citadel’s defenses with devastating precision.

Pillars of lightning crashed from the sky, splitting towers apart, while waves of earth magic turned the once-sturdy walls into unstable quagmires. Flames erupted along the battlements, consuming defenders faster than they could retreat.

High above the chaos, General Wyne stood on the central tower, his eyes fixed on the unfolding carnage. Despite the overwhelming odds, he remained composed, coordinating his forces with practiced efficiency.

He called out to 14 Grand Magus forces to stop them: three Grand Magus were sent to stop the two Cosmos Elves, while two Grand Magus were assigned to deal with the one Cosmos. As for the general himself, his eyes were fixed on Agiss, the Red Demon who remained watchful from the distance.

The human Grand Magus responded immediately, their forms vanishing in blurs of light and energy as they flew to the front lines. Each team converged on their designated targets with precision, their auras flaring as they unleashed their spells.

Multiple clashes of Grand Magus figures created massive shockwaves throughout Citadel City, and hundreds died just being near them. At the same time, the full force of elven warriors managed to reach the walls, where the Valaeryn Saint warriors and the Magus military forces clashed in battle.

General Wyne watched the battlefield unfold. His jaw tightened as he saw his forces struggling, their attacks barely holding back the elven onslaught. Turning to Princess Miriel, the last Grand Magus at his side, General Wyne’s tone softened, tinged with regret. “I was hoping we could hold out longer.”

Miriel met his gaze with quiet determination. Gone was the uncertainty that had plagued her earlier. The reports of her people escaping to the fifth checkpoint had given her a renewed sense of purpose.

“You’ve done all you could, General,” she said. “Now, it’s my turn.”

Without another word, the Princess descended from the tower and entered the sacred Valaryn Temple. The air inside was heavy with history and magic, the walls lined with ancient carvings of her people’s triumphs and sacrifices.

Kneeling before a disfigured stone statue, Miriel drew a blade and cut her palm. She pressed her bleeding hand against the cold stone, smearing it with her royal blood.

Her voice was a whisper at first, then a fervent prayer: “Eternal Lord of Shai Hilid, our guardian and protector, I offer the Valeryn my royal blood. Please awaken from your slumber.”

The statues glowed, their seals breaking apart.

Moments later, the ground beneath the Citadel trembled violently, the shockwaves rippling through the desert like a thunderous roar. The tremor was so powerful it was felt all the way to the Ruin City Outpost, 2,000 miles away. At that instant, even Emery felt it—something deep under stirred, a force long dormant now awakening.