Earth's Greatest Magus

Emery supported Thrax’s decision.

He truly did.

Watching his old friend finally grasp a path toward a long-delayed

breakthrough stirred genuine relief. Thrax had earned that right through decades of blood, endurance, and unyielding will.

And yet-

The Oracle’s warning lingered in Emery’s mind like a shadow that refused to disperse.

Arenas were never clean places. They were life-and-death battlegrounds where ambition devoured the weak and even the strong could fall without warning. And the Magus Universe Infinity Arena was not merely dangerous-it was the most lethal stage of them all.

Thrax, as always, showed no fear.

His concern lay elsewhere.

Becoming the number one champion was not a matter of winning a single tournament; it was a culmination of many victories. The Infinity Arena was a continuous crucible-an unending cycle of ranked duels against thousands of champions across thousands of worlds. Reaching the top would take years, perhaps longer, demanding absolute focus and relentless training.

Which meant only one thing.

“This means I’ll need to take an extended military leave,” Thrax said quietly.

He did not phrase it as a request.

He stated it as a fact.

Emery answered without hesitation.

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

Thrax looked at him.

“You’ve been carrying that mantle for too long,” Emery continued. “It’s my turn to fill the role.”

The words came easily.

The weight behind them did not.

Even as he spoke, Emery felt the pressure tightening around his chest. Too many responsibilities rested on his shoulders already-too many people depended on his presence, his decisions, his strength. He could not simply abandon everything and walk away.

Emery knew he could not simply send Feyanor or Soltz in Thrax’s place. Neither of them was formally registered with the Magus Alliance, and assigning them to a role of this magnitude would only invite political scrutiny and unnecessary complications. More importantly, Thrax’s position could not be filled by just anyone. He represented the Earth Faction’s military contribution, a responsibility that demanded the presence of a recognized core member.

This was not a duty that could be delegated lightly.

Thrax studied him for a long moment.

“I mean it,” Emery said, meeting Thrax’s gaze. “Focus on your goal. I’ll take care of everything here.”

Then he nodded.

He did not waste time.

Preparations began immediately.

Emery insisted that Thrax should not travel alone. After brief consideration, the

role of weapon bearer and assistant fell to Kingrig. Despite his rowdy

tendencies, Kingrig’s loyalty was unquestionable, and this journey would be a great experience for the young warrior as well.

The night before Thrax’s departure, Emery sought him out.

They did not speak of cultivation or politics.

Instead, they reminisced.

They spoke quietly of the past-of battles survived, of comrades lost, and Emery warned him of the dangers ahead.

Before they parted, Emery handed Thrax two items.

The first was a storage ring. Inside were Emery’s finest medicinal pills-his best work. Among them were two Tier-8 Dual Refinement Pills, capable of pushing Thrax’s physical body to unprecedented heights.

Thrax did not fully comprehend their true value, but he knew Emery well enough to understand that such a gift was not given lightly. He accepted it without hesitation.

The second item gave him pause.

A Tier-7 defensive artifact, medium-grade yet exceptionally rare-Randhall’s Armor.

The moment Thrax realized what it was, his refusal came instinctively. The armor represented security that even a seasoned Grand Magus would envy. Thrax’s treasured Gaelbok Spear offered some measure of protection, but it was ultimately a weapon of offense. Randhall’s Armor was different-it existed solely to keep its wearer alive.

Emery could have used it himself, but he had alternatives in his arsenal. More importantly, peace of mind had its own value.

“Your safety is what matters most. Besides, if you succeed and become more famous, we all benefit,” Emery said firmly.

After a long silence, Thrax finally accepted the armor.

Thrax’s departure followed soon after, and its impact was immediate. Gladiators who had once drawn confidence from his presence felt the void he left behind, and soldiers hardened by years of warfare found themselves unsettled by his absence. Though life at the Immortal Gladiator School continued, something essential had quietly shifted.

Only a day later, Anpu and the remaining frontline veterans departed as well, answering the call of duty that could no longer be delayed. Emery appointed the hybrid warrior as temporary commander, with Yama and Yami acting as his support. It was not an arrangement he found satisfying-but for now, it would

have to suffice.

Even as he made these arrangements, Emery continued searching for suitable candidates to reinforce them. At the same time, another thought lingered in his mind-one he did not voice openly. Given the dangers awaiting on the frontlines, dangers his future self had explicitly warned him about, Emery considered applying for an extended leave for all of them as well.

With the veterans gone, the Immortal Gladiator School found itself lack of quality fighting forces. Fortunately, recent successes had drawn attention. Talented recruits began to arrive in steady numbers, eager to test themselves beneath the school’s rising banner. Oeno threw himself fully into training them, working relentlessly to honor the promise he had made-to rebuild the school into something worthy of its name.

But cultivation was not a shortcut.

No amount of enthusiasm could replace experience overnight.

As Emery continued his own training and refinement, reports from the school grew increasingly grim. Week after week, the gladiators suffered defeat after defeat. Their resolve held, but their foundations were still shallow.

Relief came at last with the arrival of reinforcements.

From Terra.

The first contingent numbered three hundred warriors, one hundred of them

at the Magus Realm. They were a combined force-fighters born and raised in Terra City, the Alvanic subterranean warriors alongside seasoned wolf units

from the Twilight Halls.

Among them were faces Emery knew well.

Chief Beowulf, leading a halfblood pack of thirty; Yoro, the young sand-dune

wolf Emery had once saved, Andrei, the winged wolf, and Tatyana the fox.

They might not be as experienced or refined as Thrax’s warrior units.

But they were trusted.

These were people Emery could rely on-not merely for their strength, but for their loyalty. With them in place, he could finally begin laying down firmer foundations within Dawnstar City.

He deployed them with care, rotating their duties between intensive training at the Immortal Gladiator School and guarding key assets, including the Red Lotus Hall and his apothecary operations. With the addition of these warriors and the gradual circulation of Emery’s refined apothecary products, the situation began to improve. The school’s performance in the weekly arena matches steadily rose, finances accumulated at a visible pace, and intelligence networks started to extend deeper into the city’s undercurrents.

Stability, fragile though it was, began to take shape.

As these pieces fell into place, Emery finally allowed himself moments of deeper meditation. He turned inward, stabilizing his cultivation, refining artifacts, and carefully reassessing the paths that lay ahead.

Days passed.

Then- Something changed.

His consciousness trembled violently as a signal pierced through the stillness.

His Dark Avatar.

The connection was unstable, distorted by urgency and strain, yet its message

was unmistakable.

Klea.

“Come quickly… She is in extreme danger.”

In an instant, every carefully suppressed worry surged back to the surface.