Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

In a vast chamber located directly underneath the arena, a group of people had gathered around Slade’s broken and unconscious body.

This was the infirmary ward where participants’ injuries were to be treated in between matches. It was none other than the Magi from the Herbalists’ Guild who tended to the injured.

However, even they found their stomachs churned seeing the state Slade was in. It wasn’t his broken arms, knees, and ankles that made them shudder.

No, it was something else entirely…

Something truly insidious.

Because of Slade’s status as a nobleman from Acryon, the leader of the Herbalists’ Guild, Halbert Dawson, had personally stepped in.

As he gazed at the youth’s body, his heart turned cold. He had never seen someone so vilely beaten. He gently pressed his hand on the youth’s stomach, sending a thread of mana into the body to get a glimpse of the chaos within.

Seeing Slade’s internal state, Dawson sucked in a breath of cold air.

”My goodness… what kind of dark magic is this?!” He exclaimed as he quickly withdrew his hand.

”What is that supposed to mean?!” An old man, standing right beside the guild leader, roared in fury. ”Fix him, damn it!”

It was none other than Slade’s uncle, Alcott Shipley.

”Aren’t you a Grade 3 fuckin’ Herbalist?! Cure him this instant! I demand it!” Alcott’s face turned red from anger as he screamed at not just Dawson, but also the other Herbalists.

Halbert Dawson turned to him, his eyes narrowed. Then, he spoke with a cold voice full of hostility, ”Who are you to give me orders, Magus Shipley? And where do you think you are to be making such demands?”

Alcott gritted his teeth as his eyes glistened with rage. He turned to his unconscious nephew and was unable to hold his anger any longer.

”That damed Merlin! How dare he!” He roared in anguish. ”How dare he do this to my Slade?! And why the hell would she not do anything about it?! Damn it! Damn it all!”

Right after the match had ended, Alcott had rushed to confront Merlin. He wanted to know why things had to go so far. Wasn’t this just a tournament between young Magi?

But the brutality that Merlin had inflicted upon Slade was cruel, vindictive, and utterly inhumane.

Alcott wanted to know why. But more than that… he wanted to murder the madman.

But something unexpected happened. He was instead confronted by the overseer of the tournament, Professor Mathilda Whitaker. She said to him that Merlin would be made to pay for his actions… only after the tournament concluded.

”Damn it all!” Alcott roared, his eyes fuming with unprecedented wrath. He turned to Dawson and barked, ”I don’t care what it takes! You must fix him! You have to!”

Dawson deeply looked at the elderly man, then heaved a helpless sigh. He then slowly shook his head. ”Nothing can be done now,” he said.

Hearing those words—something which he had already known, yet refused to acknowledge—Acott’s body involuntarily trembled.

Dawson paused for a few moments, then said in a somber tone, ”Slade’s mana channels have been destroyed. He can no longer extract mana… ever.”

The guild leader’s gaze shifted from Slade’s abdomen down to his groin area, causing his eyes to tremble. He gulped involuntarily, then continued, ”And… he can no longer sire any children.”

He had never seen such a diabolical technique, one that severs a person’s mana channels, making him a cripple. And not just that, it also turned the target sterile.

No matter how he saw it… Dawson felt that this technique had to belong to a ruthless devil!

And when Merlin’s painted face appeared in his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder:

Is he… the devil’s incarnate?

Hearing those words from a master Herbalist himself, Alcott couldn’t help but break down in tears. As he gazed at his nephew with overwhelming sadness in his eyes, he was suddenly reminded of something.

…Or rather, someone.

He hurriedly turned to Dawson and tightly grabbed his arms. ”The Dark King,” he blurted out.

”They say he’s a talented Herbalist! I’m sure… I’m sure if it’s him, he can cure my nephew. He has to! He has to!”

Alcott’s eyes flashed with newfound vigor. ”Summon him! Summon him this instant! Only he can cure Slade!”

When Dawson heard the Dark King’s name, his heart was gripped by terror. Remembering that horrifying night, and the serpents… Dawson shuddered.

”Let go of me!” He growled, pushing Alcott Shipley away.

”There’s nothing he—”

Dawson’s words got caught in his throat. He was scared to speak his name. He was scared to even think of his name, fearing that he would die a gruesome death.

”Take your nephew away,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. ”There’s nothing anyone can do for him. Just be happy… that he’s alive. Now go. Stop wasting my time.”

Alcott Shipley was furious! He was about to retort when suddenly…

A deep sigh echoed through the infirmary, followed by a calm voice laced with mischief.

”Did someone speak my name?”

Everyone turned to the source of the voice, and there he was.

A young man in flowing dark robes and a black pointy hat, casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching them with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Under everyone’s shock—and Dawson’s terror—Adam slowly walked toward the bed where Slade lay. Ignoring everyone, he placed his hand on the youth’s abdomen and closed his eyes.

No one dared to speak. They watched everything unfold, hoping to see a miracle. It was the Dark King, after all.

A few moments later, Adam opened his eyes. He turned his gaze to Alcott Shipley and spoke with absolute certainty, ”I can cure him.”

Alcott was stunned, unable to believe his ears. When he finally realized what was happening, he was completely beside himself.

He was about to speak words of gratitude and whatnot, but Adam interrupted him before he could even begin.

”However!” He said flatly, ”My services will cost you a fortune. I don’t think you realize what has happened to this young man. His situation is very, very dire.”

He paused for a moment, raising his chin a little, and continuing with pride, ”Of course, I believe I’m the only one who can save him. After all, I am the greatest Herbalist in the Acadian Empire.”

”T-take it!” Alcott hurriedly removed his space-type storage artifacts. ”Take everything!”

With a casual swipe of Adam’s hand, the artifacts disappeared inside his sleeves. Then, he clapped twice and instructed, ”Alright then, everyone get out. I can’t have anyone disturbing me. Chop-chop!”

Alcott was the first to leave, blinded by the faith he put in the Dark King. Halbert Dawson was, naturally, the last to leave, glancing at Adam with suspicion and fear—copious amounts of fear.

At last, the infirmary ward stood silent and empty, except for Adam and Slade.

Adam turned to the pale, unconscious young man. He outstretched his hand, which was covered in spiritual energy, and ruthlessly grabbed the youth’s head.

His lips curled into a cruel smirk as he thought:

Cripple, sterile, and now… I’m going to turn you into a vegetable!