Earth's Greatest Magus

The snow-covered mountain citadel stood as a fortress of steel and stone, shielded by formation towers and packed with elite forces. And within its heavily fortified walls, Emery was granted access to one of its deepest, most closely guarded secrets: the captured enemies of the realm.

Yet, even with clearance, nothing came easy.

From the moment he stepped through the sealed gates of the quarantine cells, Emery was flanked not only by stern guards in dark crimson robes but also by his ever-watchful companion—Ivaris. The man clung to his side like a shadow, ever curious. Emery could see the gleam in his eyes. Ivaris was waiting for another alchemical breakthrough, hoping to claim a share of the glory.

This constant surveillance left Emery little room to maneuver. He had no choice but to bide his time, playing the role of a diligent researcher, tirelessly working to develop new ways to detect or cure the parasitic infection. All around were prisoners—cosmic experts, powerful warriors who had once stood proud among the stars, now locked away in the ice-drenched heart of the mountain. Extracting anything from them, be it blood or information, was no small feat. Many resisted mentally. Their minds were hard as stone, and even approaching them required multiple layers of soul suppression and a team of psychic handlers.

Emery tried to learn what he could. The janitors, the guards, even the medical aides—he asked questions, offered insight, and wore the mask of a cooperative scholar. Most of the intel was sealed, of course. Classified beyond his rank. But he persisted, weaving just enough truth into his lies to make his case sound credible.

“Their exposure to certain drugs, the techniques they used, even the locations they traveled before capture—these are just as vital to my research as their blood samples,” he argued. And though it was a stretch, it impressed Ivaris enough to support his cause.

“Their exposure to certain drugs, the techniques they used, even the locations they traveled before capture—these are just as vital to my research as their blood samples,” he argued. And though it was a stretch, it impressed Ivaris enough to support his cause.

Among the captives, there were infected allies, rogue Northern barbarians, and even suspected spies. Yet none of these truly interest him. His focus was the Travelers.

Fifteen of them had been captured.

Ten were confirmed to be part of the enemy forces, all cosmic experts bearing the signature of the Oculus faction. Dark Magus. Parasite hosts. Emery had hoped these people might offer a clue, some thread to trace back to the Magus Realm, or even a path to return. But what he found only deepened his frustration.

They weren’t human anymore.

These Dark Magus had the shapes of men, but their minds were mangled, consumed by something beastly. Parasites had claimed them wholly.

Unfortunatly for Emery, they did not come from the Magus Realm.

They came from the Nether realm.

Emery’s had heard it before—from the Celestial. A realm of scourge and ruin. Knowing these creatures hailed from that cursed place dashed any remaining hope. Emery turned away from them.

He didn’t have time to waste. His real target was still locked away. Rosin Karat and getting to him was another matter entirely.

It took much effort to gather enough information on the man. Most of it was buried under redacted reports, and when he finally made his request for a meeting, the answer came back swift and cold.

“No. You cannot meet with this prisoner.”

“Why not? This is important!” Emery demanded.

The answer was predictable. This prisoner was simply too dangerous.

“A Supreme being can kill with a thought,” the janitor said. “We can’t risk losing a valued Alchemist over curiosity.”

Emery stood firm. “But this man… intel confirms he’s never harmed any of us since his capture. There are no signs of parasitic infection.”

“Exactly… Not even Lord Ariel could find anything… we can’t protect you in there.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Emery said boldly, locking eyes with the officer.

Ivaris, ever the opportunist, was visibly moved. His admiration glowed like embers behind his golden irises.

But once again, the answer was no.

Denied by guards. Blocked by protocol. Surrounded by suspicion.

So, Emery climbed higher. Straight to the top.

He stood before Lord Ariel as he laid out his case.

The high elf listened, and when Emery made his plea, he gave a small shake of the head.

“I am but an emissary of the Elven Kingdom,” Ariel said. “I do not hold that kind of authority.”

But after a beat, he added, “However… if you could show genuine progress on the cure you mentioned, I will personally grant you access.”

Three days had passed since Emery arrived at the central stronghold.

Now, tend days remained before the Warmaster’s expedition departed for the Nether realm. Time had thinned to a thread. Emery had only one week left to turn theory into proof.

So, Emery made a choice. He presented a formula he had been holding in reserve—a half-finished potion derived from Celestial archives. Something he had hoped to perfect later, but now had to use prematurely.

“I have made progress,” he declared the next morning.

Emery withdrew a sealed crystalline vial—its liquid contents a shimmering blue-black, like ink laced with starlight. This was the Exspira Draught, a potion he had been holding back. Incomplete. They watched as he administered the potion to a restrained subject—a suspected carrier and the reaction was instant.

Black, vein-like blotches spread like cracks over the man’s arms and neck, blooming under the skin in jagged patterns. Not painful. Not toxic. But unmistakable.

It was not a cure. But it was something.

A visual sign, a red flag, a tool for rooting out sleepers and hidden enemies. It wasn’t battlefield-ready, but within the walls of the citadel, it could make all the difference.

He demonstrated it successfully, earning immediate approval.

With the Exspira Draught now part of the base’s official protocols, Emery’s value skyrocketed. And as promised, Lord Ariel made good on his word.

A day later, Emery stepped through the final set of enchanted doors.

And there, in a chamber of runes and restraints, stood the man he had come to see.

Rosin Karat.