Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

Northern Quarter, Ravenfell.

The grand arena of Ravenfell was a colossal marvel of magic and engineering. It was an open-air coliseum carved into the heart of this district, its towering walls inscribed with complex runes that shimmered under the sunlight.

From the outside, it appeared to rise a solid sixty meters into the air. But from within… it was something else entirely—three times the height.

Inside, the arena expanded far beyond its external shell. It was enchanted with spatial magic from the School of Summoning that unfolded dimensions like petals.

What looked compact from the outside opened into a colossal amphitheater, large enough to host titanic duels, armies, and spectacles of unimaginable scale.

Tier upon tier of seating rose like waves, packed to the brim with spectators from every corner of Ulier. A rough estimate would suggest that the number of people in the audience numbered close to a hundred thousand!

The atmosphere was unlike anything the city had ever seen. Anticipation, whispers, laughter, and the mystical buzz of mana permeated the air.

And the higher one sat, the more the air tingled with spells of sight and sound, ensuring that even the farthest spectators could see and hear every detail as though they stood on the field.

The central field itself was vast, surrounded by invisible barriers that protected the audience from the mayhem that was about to unfold. The grassy field was far from a simple, flat expanse, however.

It was a dynamic battlefield shaped by design and magic. While much of it was covered in soft, verdant grass, various other terrains had been seamlessly woven into the landscape to test the adaptability and creativity of the combatants.

In some areas, jagged stone formations jutted from the ground, offering both cover and elevation for strategic maneuvers. Sandy patches of land shifted subtly underfoot, threatening to throw off balance or slow down movement.

Somewhere, a shallow stream of water snaked through one side of the arena, glistening under the radiant light of the sun and occasionally shifting its course at random intervals.

Elsewhere, a small cluster of trees and low brush formed miniature forests, perfect for ambushes or hiding traps. Some areas even featured a magical fog, summoned by the arena’s enchantment, obscuring sight and further adding to the chaos.

The field was alive, unpredictable, and constantly evolving. It was designed to test not just brute strength, but tactical awareness, elemental affinity, and the ability to adapt under pressure.

This was no ordinary dueling ground.

It was a smelting trial… one worthy of the Grand Magus Tournament!

As more and more people filled the bleachers, their excited cheers made the air and the very earth tremble. All kinds of people had gathered, mortals and Magi, young and old, men and women, all waiting in eager anticipation for the main event to begin.

Naturally, the audience had picked a side they were supporting.

Above the highest seating area, the banners of the six factions fluttered in the wind, suspended between levitating pillars.

The gray banners stood for Saratoga Castle, yellow marked the Tower of Daybreak, blue signified the Coral Cove, and green belonged to Greenfield Ridge. These were the mighty Four Pillars of the Empire.

As for Baja High Forest, throughout the entirety of the tournament, they bore no banners or colors… up until now, that is. Their pristine white banner bore the image of a vast, ancient tree embroidered in rich green thread.

As for the faction that represented the rogue Magi, they had a simple ash banner with no sigil etched on it. Evidently, this faction also had the least number of spectators supporting it.

Suddenly… a lone figure stepped out from the wide gates of the arena.

When the crowd laid their eyes on him, they went wild with excitement.

He was a man of tanned skin, short-cropped hair, and keen brown eyes. Draped in flowing robes of black and gold, he moved with the effortless grace of someone long accustomed to being watched.

This was no ordinary spellcaster. He was the Court Magus of the Acadian royal family, and a master of ceremonies renowned across the lands.

In fact, every major event of importance in the Empire bore his signature presence. And now, once again, the spotlight turned to him…

The crowd erupted with cheers, singing his name.

”Almansour! Almansour!”

”Almansour! Almansour!”

He crossed the vast field, coming to a halt at the very center of the arena. Lifting his gaze, he swept it all around, at the countless spectators packed into every corner of the grand coliseum.

And then, he smiled… a dazzling showman’s smile that lit up the entire arena.

The crowd, sensing what was coming, gradually fell into a hushed, expected silence. All eyes turned toward the man at the center.

With a graceful flick of his hand, Almansour cast a minor spell that amplified his voice. And then, still wearing the brilliant smile, he spoke:

”Ladies and Gentlemen… Magi and mortals… warriors, scholars, and dreamers alike!”

He paused for a moment, letting the veil of anticipation settle in the air, the continued in a loud, beaming voice, ”Welcome to the grand stage of destiny… the Final Trial of the Seventy-Third Grand Magus Tournament!”

The crowd erupted in loud cheers and applause, but Almansour raised a hand, commanding silence once more with nothing but his presence.

”Once every thirty years, the greatest young talents from across the realm gather to carve their names in history. What began with over one hundred and fifty brave souls has now been narrowed to just sixty-two…

”Sixty-two who survived the chilling depths of Marian Lake… and endured the horrors of the blood-soaked secret plane.”

Magus Almansour paused for a moment, scanning the crowd with his electrifying gaze, then continued with his booming voice:

”Today, they stand before us… stronger, wiser, and hungrier than ever… for glory, for honour, for legacy!!”

The crowd erupted once again, rising to their feet and thrusting their hands in the air, screaming and cheering with excitement.

Almansour turned slightly, gesturing toward the towering gate at the far end of the arena.

”And to witness and guide us through this final leg of the tournament, we are joined by none other than the legend himself! The victor of the last Grand Magus Tournament. The man who turned the tides of his generation, and now stands as one of Acadia’s greatest young Magi…”

Almansour stretched his arms wide and introduced with a brilliant smile on his face:

”Give your applause to the one… the only… the proud winner of the Seventy-Second Grand Magus Tournament…

”Grand Magus Mario of the great Tower of Daybreak!”