Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

Chapter 1062: Daniel’s Magic

The small squad of Magi led by Daniel plowed through the streets of Ravenfell, leaving a trail of dismembered corpses and streams of blood in their wake.

To be truthful, the two dozen Magi barely had to make an effort to fight. The man leading them seemed like a one-man army, after all. There were hardly any cultists that managed to survive in front of his blade and his... shadows.

Apart from the mysterious Magi of the Ranzenberg Family, and perhaps only a handful of other people, no one truly knew the extent of the Councilor’s magical prowess.

Daniel Ranzenberg had always been an elusive individual. Even when he did appear on special occasions, he rarely spoke. His true thoughts were always a mystery. In fact, his very existence was a mystery to most people in Ravenfell.

Fence-sitter Ranzenberg... that was what the Councilors had nicknamed him. Meanwhile, the other Magi down the hierarchical ladder did not think much of him, just that he was a Mana Vortex Magus and kept to himself.

Today, for the first time, people got to witness the terror of this man.

Underneath the calm, stoic exterior lay a deep and formidable power. Just like his mentor, Daniel was a practitioner of shadow magic. In fact, he was the only one among Blackwood’s three students to have inherited this rare arcane art.

And today, during the battle of Ravenfell, he had truly unleashed it.

Expertly weaving seals with one hand, and slashing his sword with the other, he continued to reap one life after another. It didn’t matter if they were Mana Foundation, Mana Liquefaction, or Mana Vortex Magi. They all died the same.

Ranzenberg made easy work of the former two, as for the latter... shadows rose around him, tightly constricting his enemies. His blades flashed under the pale light of the twin moons and sent these cultists to the cold embrace of nothingness.

The Councilor’s mysterious retainers did not show much of a reaction to this, but Raidon and the dozen men from the Black Legion... they were thunderstruck!

Raidon felt his heart turn cold as he witnessed the Councilor turn into a whirlwind of steel and shadows. Their group was like a speeding arrow that tore through the sea of cultists, blood mist spurting in every direction.

Just what kind of a monster is he?! Raidon thought to himself incredulously.

His eyes suddenly flashed with a cold light and he swung his twin blades, swiftly defending against a Mana Liquefaction-level cultist trying to ambush thier group. He didn’t even have to finish off the attacker, and neither did his men. The serpents had already taken care of it.

Shifting his attention back to the stocky figure of the man leading their group, Raidon couldn’t help but give birth to a terrifying thought:

Could Councilor Ranzenberg be stronger than the Lord Commander? No... that seems unlikely... I don’t know...

The more he saw the stoic Councilor display his formidable combat prowess, the more certain he grew. If not stronger than the Dark King, Ranzenberg was undoubtedly on par with him!

Such a thought caused a jolt to run through Raidon’s body.

If this is the case, then where has the Councilor been all this while?! He thought with a grim expression.

After all, a Magus with such skills should have been renowned throughout the Empire. Yet, he was barely known within the walls of Ravenfell.

The man was just as secretive as the magic he wielded.

After about thirty minutes of pure massacre, the group of Magi finally arrived at the gates of the Benton Estate. Throughout the entire ordeal, they hadn’t stopped even once. There were no casualties among them. In fact, the Magi only sustained light injuries.

And the reason for all of this was because the man leading them had borne the brunt of the enemy’s assault, all while expertly navigating them through the chaos of battle across the sea of carnage. Even so, the Councilor seemed unfazed, as if he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

”Don’t lower your guard,” he said, without turning around. Then, he stepped in through the gates. His eyes flickered with unease as he made his way to the manor that lay in the heart of the estate.

It was quiet all around. In fact, it was too quiet. It was as if this small patch of land existed in a completely separate dimension from the rest of the city. The ravages of war did not seem to reach this place.

Or perhaps they had... long before they consumed the city of Ravenfell.

Daniel’s heart tightened in apprehension when he saw several presences inside the manor. But the thing was... none of them showed any signs.

Sabrina... please...

He gritted his teeth and broke into a run, leaving the others behind in a stunned daze. They quickly scrambled to catch up to him. Thankfully, there were no cultists or serpents inside the estate.

Within a minute, Daniel had already arrived at the base of the stairs leading to the main entrance of the manor. His face was deathly pale, and his eyes glistened with emotions he hadn’t shown in years... perhaps even centuries.

As he climbed the stairs, his knees threatened to buckle. A shaky breath escaped his lips as his gaze landed on the familiar figure lying down near the entrance.

Daniel’s shoulders trembled, his footsteps gradually coming to a stop right before his childhood friend.

His vision turned blurry as tears slowly trickled down his cheeks. He slowly knelt on the ground, then reached out with trembling hands.

”Sabrina... it’s me,” he said gently.

He gently lifted her from the ground and hugged her.

”...It’s me... Daniel,” he called out to her again, his chest heaving up and down as he took raspy breaths.

”...Sabrina,” he called out once again.

But she never responded.

The soft light of the twin moons gently caressed her cold, pale cheeks. She lay peacefully in Daniel’s arms... silent, still, never to wake up again.

Daniel’s eyes shifted to the corpses of the rest of the Benton family members. He felt as if his heart was stabbed countless times by an unseen blade.

He sobbed uncontrollably, and at last, he spoke, his voice low and trembling, filled with indescribable pain:

”I’m sorry...”