Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2719: Urgent

Emery noticed how the Arbor Master’s usually calm, scholarly face briefly faltered.

“Senior… what happened?”

“There is something urgent,” After a beat of contemplation, he added, “Perhaps you can come and join me. I could use your assistance.”

The weight in his words struck Emery. After all the help the Arbor Master had given him, Emery could not possibly refuse. He nodded without hesitation.

He watched as Linnaeus crossed the lab, retrieving several items from shelves. Once prepared, Linnaeus gestured for Emery to follow.

One of the plant-humanoids—Alda, the towering sentinel of woven bark—joined them. Together, the three stepped out into the garden’s edge, where a sleek, rune-plated vehicle awaited. A magus in uniform stood stiffly beside it, saluting as he pulled the door open.

The vehicle lifted smoothly into the air, racing across the upper levels of Alpha Station. Emery expected they would head toward the human residential sectors. Instead, they veered away, toward the glittering expanse of the aquatic zones.

The change in scenery was striking. Before them loomed a massive aquarium dome, vast enough to house an entire city. Water shimmered like liquid crystal, refracting the station lights into ethereal beams. Silhouettes of aquatic citizens glided within—blue-skinned humanoids, scaled figures, and schools of bioluminescent creatures drifting in currents.

Their vehicle glided along the current, submerging at one corner of the dome before docking inside a bubble chamber.

The chamber was no simple landing bay. It resembled a port city in miniature—rows of ships hovering within air-locked spheres, magus runes etched into the walls to hold the waters at bay. The place thrummed with activity. Dozens of magus-ranked officers stood in formation, their faces grim. A few radiated the powerful aura of a grand magus, marking them as Alfa Station guards. Whatever awaited was no ordinary incident.

Emery stayed close to the Arbor Master as they stepped into the throng. The crowd parted without a word, bowing their heads in instinctive respect. At the chamber’s center, a wide area had been cordoned off by a glowing formation, the runes shifting like liquid light. Beyond its barrier, Emery glimpsed several bodies laid neatly on the ground, each draped in heavy cloth.

Murmurs fell silent as someone announced, “The Grand Master is here.” The words rippled through the assembly like a spell.

From within the circle, a figure emerged. He was a middle-aged man, his posture relaxed yet commanding. His presence was more than rank—it was the quiet weight of authority, an aura that pressed heavier than the realm he outwardly displayed. His tone was casual, though touched with respect, as he addressed Linnaeus.

“Brother Linnaeus, you are here. We have another one.”

“I see,” Linnaeus murmured, peering toward the covered corpses. “An aquatic race this time…”

“All is prepared as you requested,” the man confirmed.

“Good.”

Only then did his gaze fall on Emery. There was no hostility in it—only curiosity. “This is…?”

“A young friend of mine,” Linnaeus said smoothly. “He will be assisting me.”

Turning slightly, he addressed Emery. “This is Dorian, the station’s Prefect.”

Emery’s heart skipped. The Prefect—the highest authority of Alfa Station. A legendary figure chosen not by appointment, but by the will of the people. Emery gives a polite gesture and introduces himself.

The Prefect studied him for a moment, and Emery felt an abyss of power behind that calm gaze. He realized instantly—this man, too, was a Supreme figure. Yet the Prefect’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Such a young figure you are.”

With that, his attention returned to the matter at hand. “Open the formation!”

The shimmering barrier dissolved, allowing Linnaeus to step inside. Emery trailed him, nerves taut as he glanced at the bodies. The first was a human guard, his uniform scorched. The second was more jarring: a blue-skinned aquatic humanoid, fins flared at its neck, its body limp and pale.

Emery spread his divine sense across the corpse—and froze. Something pulsed within the flesh, alien and alive.

At the same moment, Linnaeus raised a hand. Vines of light spiraled from his palm, pulling. With a wet, sickening sound, a creature was yanked free from the body.

It writhed in the air, finger-sized and glistening, with translucent flesh and wriggling tentacles.

Emery’s stomach twisted. Although slightly different, he knew that form all too well.

“The scourge parasites,”

Linnaeus glanced at him, brows raised. “You recognize it?”

Emery nodded grimly.

In that instant, the situation crystallized. This was no random incident. Linnaeus had been summoned to contain a scourge outbreak. The parasites had slipped into Alfa Station, carried aboard a recently arrived vessel of aquatic refugees.

The work began swiftly. Emery lent his strength, capturing surviving parasites in reinforced vials, cataloging the corpses, and tracing infection signs. He worked in tandem with Linnaeus, who handled the most sensitive specimens with precise gestures of living magic.

One by one, the corpses were cleansed in controlled flames, reduced to ash before contamination could spread further. The stench of burnt flesh lingered in the air, sharp and acrid, but necessary.

When the task was complete, the Prefect approached once more. His face was calm, but the lines of concern were unmistakable. “Brother… what do you think? More and more of them appear. I fear…”

Linnaeus placed a hand on his shoulder. “I understand.”

Rather than return to the quiet of the Spectrum Garden, their group diverted to one of Alfa Station’s secured facilities. It was a stark contrast—sterile white walls, sealed wards humming with protective runes, corridors patrolled by armored guards. Within, a team of researchers already awaited them. A dozen figures in white robes stood ready, their faces lit by lamplight and tension.

Emery was granted permission to remain. Half the researchers were seasoned master alchemists; among them was even a grand master whose name he recognized from the alliance database. Yet it was Linnaeus—renowned as one of the legendary biologists—who stepped naturally into the role of command. Orders flowed from him like water, and the team obeyed without hesitation.

The work ahead felt hauntingly familiar. The Tartarus Realm had suffered the same nightmare—the scourge creeping in as plague, a threat that consumed everything if left unchecked.

At last, when a pause came, Linnaeus turned to him. His eyes, though tired, still held the sharpness of purpose.

“You see now,” the Arbor Master said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of decades of responsibility. “We are drowning beneath this new threat. Every day the scourge spreads, and every day, more lives are lost. It would be a comfort to have another assistant like you by my side.” His gaze lingered on Emery, sharp yet pleading. “What do you think? Will you be willing to stay? A few years of your aid could mean the survival of millions.”

There was no doubt in his words—no exaggeration. Emery knew it. In fact, the cryptic note from his future self had already warned him of this very plague, speaking of a calamity so vast it consumed half the universe.

However, despite the mounting reasons to remain, Emery’s answer was firm. His heart longed for home, and the urgency of his own responsibilities weighed heavier than the Arbor Master’s request. He bowed his head respectfully, his tone steady.

“Senior, I truly wish I could stay… but I must return.”

The disappointment in Linnaeus’ eyes was brief, quickly hidden behind the calm mask. Emery, however, was not without a way to contribute. He had something else to offer.

With a thought, he summoned VIA. At Emery’s command, it began compiling vast archives of information—detailed notes, alchemical observations, and parasitic dissections gathered during the Tartarus campaign. Hundreds of cases of scourge infection, spanning both human and elven hosts, were recorded within his database.

When Emery handed the compiled records over, the researchers froze in awe. These were not scraps of rumor or field reports—this was a comprehensive data set on the scourge they had ever seen. Gasps rippled through the room. One of the alchemists whispered, almost reverently, “Where did you get this?… this could save us months.. no… years of blind trials.”

Emery caught Linnaeus watching him. The Arbor Master’s expression softened, pride and gratitude mixing in his ancient gaze.

A sudden thought flashed through Emery’s mind—his future self had returned home centuries too late, when this research most likely had become obsolete. But now… this moment was different. The data he had given, the knowledge he had carried from Tartarus—what ripple would it create? Could it alter the course of that doomed future?