Earth's Greatest Magus

“AARGGHH!!”

The Supreme Magus’s body arched backward mid-air, golden light dimming from his frame as blood burst from his lips. His aura flickered violently. The backlash of power hurled him downward like a broken comet. Worse still—dozens of the flying serpents, drawn by the volatile energy, were converging on him, jaws wide and fangs gleaming, ready to tear the Grand Magus to pieces before he even hit the ground.

In a blur of motion, a figure streaked across the air.

“Got you!” shouted Soltz.

They spun together, battered by gusts and heat, before Soltz strained to ascend once again, clutching the unconscious supreme magus to his chest.

“Hold on!!” he muttered. “We’re not dying today.”

However, time was running out.

Above them, the sky itself was tearing open—swirling chaos where once there was only endless grey. The rift was nearly complete, the thin membrane between realms thinning, pulsing, held open only by the last flickers of synergy from Talaro and Vayarel. Sweat poured from both of them, the strain visible in their trembling forms as they stabilized the breach, trying to form a solid connection to the space beyond.

“It’s open! It’s finally open!” Talaro shouted, desperation in his voice. “We need to push through—NOW!”

But Vayarel didn’t move. He stood firm in the air, his focus divided, his gaze lingering toward the ravaged battlefield below. “Not yet,” he said tightly. “We wait for the others.” He refused to abandon his master, Rosin Karat.

“Are you insane?!” Talaro snapped. “We can’t delay!”

The rift pulsed again, unstable.

But below, their allies were still trapped, locked in fierce combat against dozens of serpentine beasts that blocked the way.

The Light Emery could do nothing to help; his focus was consumed by maintaining the temporal spell anchoring them all to this fragile moment. The Dark Emery, however, turned back reluctantly, his instincts warning him.

And that’s when Talaro struck.

“So be it!” he hissed under his breath.

The dark elf chanted in a sharp, ancient Elvish tongue. With a snap of his fingers and a twist of his hand, he forcefully siphoned the synergy Vayarel had been channeling, seizing control of the rift.

“What—!” Veyarel gasped.

This had been the dark elf plan all along. As the lead caster, Talaro possessed the authority—and the sheer magical dominance—to force his will upon the spell formation.

Emery’s eyes widened in shock as Vayarel’s body was suddenly yanked toward Talaro by invisible strands of power. Veyarel’s limbs trembled as he struggled, but he couldn’t resist. Talaro’s will, amplified by Khaos energy, was overpowering.

Then came the strike.

With a flash of silver, Talaro unsheathed his frost-forged saber and slashed across Vayarel’s side. The blade shimmered with frozen malice, its bite disrupting the flow of energy and leaving Vayarel reeling.

Wounded and weakened, Vayarel cried out—but it was too late. Talaro was already reaching for the core of the Khaos Gate, his fingers aglow with arcane sigils, trying to wrench the unstable gateway into his full control.

But he wasn’t the only one who had come prepared.

Dark Emery stepped in.

He had always known Talaro would betray them. Eyes cold, aura flaring, the dark Emery unleashed his sealed realm power—the full might of a Grand Magus—now fused with his newly honed mastery over the Law of Space. In an instant, he formed a space-warping barrier between them.

“You’re not taking it!” he roared.

With a swift motion, he invoked his authority as Khaos’s champion, reaching to reclaim the Khaos Gate.

For a moment, the energies clashed—Khaos shrieking, space folding, and sparks of shadow and light twisting midair. Talaro staggered back but didn’t falter. Instead, he chuckled darkly.

“Hah… So this is your secret…,” he sneered, blood trickling from his lip. “But unfortunately for you… I’ve known all along.”

He resumed his elvish chant, this time faster, harsher—an incantation laced with something deeper, something forbidden.

To Emery’s horror, the Khaos power began siphoning into Talaro’s body, pulled as if answering a higher command. And then came a voice, alien yet familiar—Chututlu, the Khaos guardian itself.

The words chilled Emery to the core.

Talaro’s eyes glowed black, and his mouth curled into a triumphant grin. “The Lord has chosen,” he declared with manic pride. “I am the best candidate. I am the true vessel… I am the only one who will survive this crossing!”

The dark elf let out a mad laugh—and began forcefully devouring the Khaos power from both Vayarel and Emery. Threads of radiant light were torn from Vayarel’s chest, pulled into Talaro like smoke sucked into a void.

“STOP!!” Kaelyn and Feanor had arrived, ready to strike down the dark elf. But Talaro moved decisively. With a flick of his hand, he twisted the very fabric of space to block their path. A rift split the sky, and from it emerged a swarm of skeletal serpents. Summoned as his guardians, they spiraled around him in a protective circle.

“Don’t worry,” he sneered. “For helping me make this happen, I won’t kill you all. I’ll just leave you behind… well… as soon as I finish taking the Gate.”

Emery’s fists clenched. He couldn’t accept this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. There had to be a way.

His eyes narrowed with fiery resolve.

“If I can’t leave—then you won’t either!” he shouted.

In a desperate move, Emery began to distort the temporal spell anchoring the Gate’s formation. He twisted the flow of time itself, warping it, letting instability ripple through the surrounding space.

“You’re insane!” Talaro turned in panic, his voice cracking. “Fine! Fine, I’ll take you with me—just stop this madness!”

But Emery couldn’t stop. He lacked the full comprehension to reverse the damage. The spell was unraveling beyond his control.

“NO!!!”

Then… something unexpected happened.

A blinding anomaly tore across the realm—a pulse of luminous birthlight rippling like a tidal wave through the broken sky.

There was a ringing sound that struck pain in their heads.

Then.

The chaos stilled.

The storm slowed.

Everything began to freeze in place—the raging portal above, the serpents, and the battle-worn figures rushing upward. Rosin Karat, Soltz, Kaelyn, and Feanor were all suspended midair, their bodies unmoving.

Only four remained untouched: Emery, his dark counterpart, Talaro, and the half-unconscious Vayarel, hovering inside a translucent sphere where time stood still.

“What… what is happening?!”

Talaro’s eyes darted in panic. “Is this your doing?!” he shouted at Emery.

But Emery was just as confused. It wasn’t him—he knew it couldn’t be. He didn’t have the comprehension, much less the power, to create such a massive time stop spell.

That’s when a voice rang out—deep, resonant, echoing through the suspended space like a divine whisper.

“It is I…”

The voice trembled with power.

“Who?!” Talaro barked.

From the radiant light, a silhouette began to form. A figure in a flowing white robe stepped forth, emerging from the rupture in space. His face was still obscured by a glowing brilliance—Emery couldn’t get a clear look—but there was something familiar about him. Something personal.

“The time and space have aligned… Destiny awaits.”

Dark Emery’s eyes widened. He knew that voice. “It’s him…” he said in disbelief. “He’s the one… the one who called me into the Leviathan’s Mouth.”

Emery stood stunned. He had always believed it was Talaro who lured him into this doomed realm—but now, it seems another force had been guiding events from behind the veil.

“Who are you?!”

Talaro began trembling, sensing the overwhelming aura of this being. It was an aura beyond a Supreme—cold, absolute, and final. He began to chant once again in panic. “Lord of Shadow… save me!!”

But nothing happened.

Worse—the Khaos energy that had been pouring into him began to recede. The gate’s power slipped from his grasp, retreating like a tide called home.

The white-robed figure turned to Emery and spoke once more.

“Khaos has accepted my proposal.”

Another rift shimmered into existence behind him—this one clear and stable. Emery stared into it, and what he saw shook him.

A different world.

A different battlefield.

Two figures locked in battle inside a massive arena—

Morgana and Kronos.

#####

Author’s Note

Thank you all for the incredible support and love you’ve shown for the novel.

I wonder how many of you could guess who the mysterious figure is.

All will be answered in next month’s chapters.

More exciting revelations are ahead. I hope for your patience and continued support for the novel. Thank you!