Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

The Mother of Flesh roared angrily and lashed out with its meaty tendrils, viciously swatting the wooden barrels the young Magi had thrown at her.

It was a creature of pure instincts, so it did the first thing that came to mind - destroy the projectiles hurled at it.

But that was what spelled its doom.

As the barrels shattered mid-air, they exploded into splinters, releasing a dark-green liquid that burst forth like a volley of firecrackers, instantly drenching a large portion of the abomination’s body.

Seeing the grim liquid covering the fleshy surface of the monster, a dark smile appeared on Eleiney’s face.

”Tell me how that tastes, monster,” she said. ”I concocted it with a lot of care.”

The Mother of Flesh froze for a moment, then its entire humongous body shuddered.

Where the dark-green substance touched, its tendrils began to wither and rot, sizzling as steam rose from the necrotizing flesh.

Segments of outer layers bubbled and peeled away, revealing raw, vulnerable tissue beneath. Portions of its massive body began to sag, as though the weight of its own body was suddenly too much to bear.

A gurgling, distorted shriek erupted from its countless maws, echoing through the clearing like a miserable wail.

The toxin was working!

The towering abomination faltered ever so slightly, but then… its monstrous form lashed out its meaty tendrils with newfound vigor.

It was simply too enormous, and the necrotic rotting liquid had only covered a portion of the fleshy surface area. But the young Magi weren’t worried about taking down this behemoth.

Those barrels containing the necrotic liquid were only the first wave of their attack plan. They had many more things in store for the Mother of Flesh.

However, for their plan to come into fruition, each of them had to ensure not to get caught in the whirlwind of tendrils that attacked them from every direction.

Furthermore, because of the barrier all around them, they didn’t have a lot of area to maneuver. So they had to be very, very careful.

The members of the four parties quickly cast several layers of concealment spells on themselves once again and disappeared from sight.

Although the abomination could still sense them, it was far less effective compared to before. First, it was extremely enraged and was simply lashing out with its tendrils randomly. Second, and more importantly, the necrotic liquid was slowly and surely beginning its work.

The portions of flesh affected by it were gradually decomposing the organic tissues.

Now, it had become a battle of attrition.

Either the Mother of Flesh would succumb to the corrosive rot eating away at its body—and whatever else the young Magi had planned—or the young Magi would be crushed beneath the relentless barrage of its writhing tendrils.

Every second felt like an hour. Flesh slapped against the barrier, magic spells flared into brilliant lights, and blood painted the clearing.

And above all of it loomed the abomination… wounded, yet still maddeningly alive.

***

Outside the barrier, Merlin was indulging in brutal carnage.

He circled the crimson barrier repeatedly, ensuring that the countless blood beasts did not put too much strain on it while the young Magi dealt with the Mother of Flesh inside.

The youth was bathed in the blood of his enemies, and his pale blue eyes had seemingly lost focus. At the moment, he was completely and wholeheartedly focused on only one thing…

Murder. Murder. Murder.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he had begun slaughtering these blood beasts. A few minutes, perhaps a few hours, perhaps an eternity.

Merlin found himself in a momentary trance, detached from everything else that was happening around him… everything except murder.

He delivered blow after blow from his fists, elbows, knees, and legs. One shot was all it took to take care of the blood beasts, regardless of whether they were of the Mana Foundation Rank or the Mana Liquefaction Rank.

Blood splattered in every direction, and pieces of bones and flesh rained through the air.

Merlin had a feeling that he was on the cusp of something… something that would help him understand the Phantom Dance.

So he delved deeper into the massacre. There were countless targets for him to practice, after all. Slowly, he was able to comprehend the tip of the iceberg.

The true essence of the Phantom Dance lay in the paradox it embodied.

Chaos with control, brutality wrapped in elegance.

At its core, the Phantom Dance was not merely a technique but a manifestation of the user’s will and presence.

Every movement, be it a spiraling elbow, a sweeping knee, or a crushing fist, was imbued with the overwhelming force of tyrannical mana.

The blood beasts exploded into pieces of flesh, bones, and organs the moment they faced his blow.

Yet, at the same time, the blow was delivered with such fluidity and unpredictability that it felt less like a martial form and more like a spectral dance.

Gradually, Merlin became an enigma on the battlefield, leaving a trail of mangled corpses in his wake.

Using the footwork technique of the Astral Tyrant Manual, he became a blur of afterimages and echoing steps, vanishing and reappearing like a drunken wraith in full control of their madness.

To an onlooker, it would seem like Merlin was teleporting in and out of existence, but in truth… that was just the product of pure speed.

Each strike decimated the enemy, each step displaced reality, and each lash seemingly held the weight of a collapsing star.

For the first time since he had gotten his hands on the Astral Tyrnat Manual—almost two decades ago—he was showing the true form of the Phantom Dance.

Seeing him slaughtering enemies so gracefully felt like seeing a bloody storm take human shape.

Flowing like the wind, hitting like thunder, and leaving only silence in its wake.

Yet, despite it all, Merlin felt like he was missing something… something very crucial to his understanding of the Phantom Dance.

It was like a fleeting dream. The more he reached for it, the further it slipped away.

Unfortunately, it would seem that the elusive feeling would remain just out of Merlin’s grasp.

What felt like a momentary trance had, in reality, lasted for longer than he realized. And when he finally came to his senses, he was met with a startling sight…

Every blood beast was dead.