Earth's Greatest Magus

The arrival of the golden constructs was Emery’s cue to leave. The fifteen minutes granted by the Supreme Being were up, and he needed to use the golems to lead himself and Veyarel to safety.

“Senior! We need to wrap this up now and leave!”

The Ember Sage was sharp enough to read the situation—the chaos was the perfect opportunity to slip out of the battle. He pulled his dark cosmic flames, and at the same time, Veyarel slowly began to regain consciousness.

Emery didn’t have time to check the results; he quickly hoisted the man onto his back and prepared to carve a path out of the hall.

However, after only a few steps, the female barbarian suddenly leapt from her restraints mount.

“Trying to escape? In your dreams!!”

As she hovered in the air, her battlefield domain unfurled with a chilling pulse of soul energy, enhanced by the obsidian flags on her palm.

A shockwave rippled through the entire hall as dozens of glowing eyes opened across the walls and ceiling—phantasmal, watchful, and brimming with oppressive force.

Each eye glowed with a hypnotic radiance, their gazes capable of anchoring thought and motion alike. A suffocating pressure flooded the battlefield.

Even the soulless golden constructs staggered and halted—enslaved not by mind, but by a higher order of law.

Emery’s instincts screamed.

This was no ordinary soul magic. It was a technique forged on the enslavement path, designed to dominate armies.

Without hesitation, Emery invoked his strongest mental defenses—[Prism of Light]. A radiant dome burst around his spiritual core, refracting with dozens of shimmering colors. Inside the dome, his mind was momentarily shielded—but he could feel the pressure pressing in, cracking the edges. The celestial eyes in the air bore down like judgmental gods.

All around him, chaos erupted in slow motion.

Ivaris, who was following right behind him, began to tremble and walked forward with a blank stare, completely entranced. The non-combatants followed like puppets, expressionless, their feet moving without will.

Even the guard captain, eyes glazed, turned and walked straight toward the beast. He didn’t even scream as the Blighttoad’s tongue lashed out and swallowed him whole.

Only Gelael, the Ember Sage, stood firm next to Emery, his entire body wreathed in flickering black fire as he struggled to hold his consciousness.

“We need to stop her—quick!!” He shouted.

The barbarian sneered. “A pity… Even now, you’re still resisting.”

Her palm opened—and every fallen weapon on the battlefield trembled.

Swords. Axes. Spears. Shattered glaives and daggers—all rose from the floor, spinning, pointing, aimed at Emery and Gelael like missiles.

“You all can die now,” she whispered, her voice sharp as steel.

But before she could strike—space itself rippled.

A metallic hum filled the hall. The weapons froze.

Then, as if reality had bent to another will—they turned.

All of them.

Their gleaming tips turned toward her.

The barbarian’s eyes went wide. “No…”

Hovering above the battlefield in resplendent, effortless silence was a figure cloaked in divine gold.

Rosin Karat

The Supreme Being had arrived. His presence alone warped the room. The weapons moved to his will as if they had been forged solely for him.

Then came the verdict.

“NO! WAIT!!”

The floating weapons surged forward in unison, skewering the female barbarian from every direction. Her body exploded into torn chunks, gore splashing across the floor like crimson rain.

Emery witnessed it firsthand—the sheer, insurmountable gap in power between a grand magus and a Supreme Being.

Though the barbarian’s body had been utterly annihilated, her soul endured. A shrieking, burning presence of raw hatred lingered in the air, flickering like a cursed flame.

“YOU BASTARD!! YOU ALL WILL PAY!!”

The spectral remains of the female barbarian hovered midair, her scream echoed across the broken hall, thick with rage and vengeance. Then the soul scattered—retreating into the void. Her godly beast follows in her trail.

Rosin Karat, the Supreme, made no move to chase them.

Instead, he swayed slightly… then coughed up blood.

“I don’t have much time left…” he said hoarsely, turning to Emery. His gaze, though weakened, was still sharp. “We must go. Now.”

Obeying without hesitation, Emery followed as the surviving golden constructs surged forward, smashing a new path through the ruined walls. The remaining survivors—injured warriors, trembling noncombatants—followed closely behind. But as they emerged from the shattered hall into the open battlefield beyond, what awaited them froze their breath.

The central stronghold had become a nightmare.

Death hung in the air like a suffocating fog. The once-mighty fortress lay in ruins, flames devouring what remained. Bodies littered the stone paths, both friend and foe alike, as cries of agony echoed in the distance. Perhaps only ten percent of the forces remained—barely holding the line against the unrelenting chaos.

But the most horrifying sight towered in the distance.

Rendra the Stonebreaker—the enemy’s supreme warlord—had transformed. Now a colossal giant over a hundred meters tall, he loomed like a god of destruction, his every step shaking the earth as he waged war against the last remnants of the Guardians.

Emery scanned the battlefield desperately. Ariel, the High Elf Commander, was nowhere to be seen.

But things grew worse still.

A new wave surged from the collapsed dungeon gates—figures rushing out with wild, bloodlust-fueled speed. These were the prisoners, once sealed deep beneath the stronghold. Now freed, they turned on the defenders, tearing through what guards remained. Among them was a childlike barbarian, grinning madly as he dragged behind him one of the captured Supreme prisoners.

Emery’s heart sank. There were too many. Even with a dozen golden constructs, the path couldn’t be cleared quickly enough.

Then, a voice—raspy but calm—rose behind him.

“I can help.”

Veyarel.

The grand magus had regained consciousness, barely standing but filled with renewed will. With trembling hands and blood-slick fingers, he reached into the void.

While the constructs clashed with the flood of enemies, Veyarel summoned his strength. A swirling portal bloomed open before them—unstable, but wide enough for a retreat.

“Go!” Emery said. “Everyone out!”

And so, with no time to lose, Emery gathered the survivors and led them through the gate… escaping the fallen stronghold.

####

Author’s Note

With the Supreme Magus released and the key to return home with him, next month, we’ll see them begin their escape out of the Tartarus Realm and back to the Magus Realm.

Only weeks remain until the long-awaited duel —will Emery be able to return in time? What about Shinta and his other half? What secrets lie with the Fey people?

All will be answered in next month’s chapters.

More exciting revelations are ahead. I hope for your patience and continued support for the novel. Thank you!