Earth's Greatest Magus

Several massive flying ships cut through the skies like ancient leviathans reborn in steel and spellcraft. Their colossal hulls shimmered with layered enchantments, glowing faintly with runes of protection, speed, and silence. These were no merchant crafts or ceremonial processions—these were ships of war, forged in the crucible of conflict, reinforced with layered defensive arrays capable of withstanding cosmic spells and assaults.

Each vessel was brimming with power—within their holds stood thousands of elite troops, lined in disciplined formations. Rows of gleaming armor caught the midday sun, casting reflections that danced across the decks like shards of starlight.

Among them were Magus realm warriors, seasoned and battle-hardened. Interspersed throughout were hundreds of cosmic-ranked experts—each one a veteran in their own right, handpicked from across the Alliance for a singular purpose: to bolster the warfront in the north and prepare for the incursion into the unknown realm that lay beyond.

Emery stood silently on the observation platform at the front of one such vessel, a uniquely crafted command cruiser. Cold mountain air rushed past him as the scenery below gradually shifted—from the soft green of Pardera’s heartlands to a harsher world of towering cliffs and snow-blanketed forests.

He wasn’t alone on this particular ship. With him were four other high-ranking alchemists, selected specifically for this expedition

Two figures stood out for their reputation alone—Ada Velace, the Rose of Aether, and Galael, the Ember Sage. Both were Grade 8 alchemists, long-standing figures in the alchemical world.

The third was Horus of House Kreed, dressed in tailored armor and a permanent scowl.

And lastly, there was Ivaris—a face Emery knew well.

Ivaris, ever exuberant, had been chosen to replace Graknar Blueflame, who had declined the invitation. With Ivaris ranking among the top ten in the Heaven and Earth alchemy tournaments, he wasn’t a surprising replacement.

Ivaris clapped Emery on the back with a grin. “Brother Emery! Now that you’ve stepped into the Grand Magus realm, I’ll be counting on you to cover my rear in case we run into trouble.”

Emery allowed himself a faint smile. “I’ll do what I can.”

Across from them, Horus scoffed, his arms folded tightly. “Tch. What good will that do? He’s just advanced. A mere one cosmos stage doesn’t count for much against what we’re about to face.”

Ivaris laughed, a quick bark of sound. “Ah, pay no mind to Horus. He’s just grumpy; his family gave him an ultimatum—join the expedition or be kicked from the family.

Horus’s face turned crimson. “That’s outrageous slander!”

Their heated banter was quickly silenced by a sharp glare from Galael, whose fiery aura flickered around like dancing flames. One look from the Ember Sage was enough to silence the entire deck.

No one spoke after that.

Emery sighed in relief. The quiet was welcome—he had other matters on his mind.

It had been three days since he last heard from his dark self, the soul currently infiltrating the Fey planet. Ever since then, all contact with Khaos had been severed. No message. Not even the faintest connection passing between them. It was as if a veil had fallen

“What the hell is going on…?” Emery muttered under his breath, pushing his divine sense to the limit once more. But no matter how much he tried, nothing came through.

The cold he felt wasn’t just from the air anymore—it seeped inward, heavy and leaden.

Was Shinta safe?

That thought cut deeper than anything else.

He refused to let panic take root. But doubt festered all the same, wrapping around his heart like thorns.

Unfortunately, now that he was already part of this high-profile expedition, there was no turning back. Not without drawing dangerous attention or abandoning the duty that had been placed upon him.

“All I can do now is trust my other self… and use this time to investigate what’s happening in the north… I hope I can meet with the Karat group as soon as possible.

That quiet resolve carried him through the remaining leg of the journey. Two days later, the convoy finally crossed into the northern borders—an imposing region dominated by snow-covered mountain ranges and sharp, frozen valleys.

From the information Emery had gathered, this northern region was once home to seven great strongholds—fortresses built during a dark period of history when the southern dominions of Pardera waged war against the northern barbarian tribes. Though that war ended five centuries ago, the scars remain. Tensions lingered, and cultural divisions kept the two peoples from ever truly uniting.

Below, the first of the seven strongholds appeared—a fortress carved directly into the spine of a mountain. Its walls were etched with wards and bound with ancient steel, protected by layers of magic older than the Alliance itself. As the flying ships descended in formation, the snowfall around the landing pads dissipated under the hum of shielding runes.

Drums beat in rhythm below, reverberating through the mountains, signaling the arrival.

“We’ve arrived at our destination,” the ship captain called out, his voice ringing through the air.

One by one, the magus warriors disembarked, marching in formation. Their boots crunched against the frost-covered ground, their breath turning to mist in the cold mountain air.

Leading the welcoming party was none other than Warmaster Illir Batara himself, a grizzled veteran who had arrived months prior to organize the northern defense. His stern face broke into a rare smile as he watched the convoy arrive.

As the troops settled, one of his aides approached the group of alchemists. “Master Alchemists, your quarters have been prepared. Please take this time to rest… The warmaster has scheduled an important strategic briefing tomorrow at noon.”

The four alchemists nodded and began following the aide.

But Emery didn’t move.

He stepped forward, his voice calm but laced with urgency. “I came at the Warmaster’s special request. I need to speak with him immediately.”

The aide blinked, surprised by the interruption, but caught the seriousness in Emery’s eyes.

“…Very well,” he said after a pause. “I’ll inform the warmaster.”