Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2743: Violet Death

One Grand Magus.

Two Full Moons.

Eight Half Moons.

The group that emerged from the blizzard was no scouting party—this was an elite strike force. Their auras pressed against the frozen air like invisible blades, dark purple mist curling around their weapons.

“Where is she!” barked the Grand Magus at their head, his voice sharp through the mask that concealed his face.

Emery stood alone before the cavern mouth, the wind tugging at his cloak. His golden eyes shimmered faintly as he met their collective gaze. “That’s interesting,” he said with a faint smirk. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

He tilted his head, glancing at the dozen magus who circled him like wolves. “Since you’re all here, I suppose you know more than I do.”

No reply—only cold silence. The Grand Magus gave a small gesture.

“Take him.”

In an instant, the ten Half Moons burst into motion. Dark, purplish smoke billowed from their bodies as they drew twin curved daggers—each connected by a chain that shimmered with violet light. The chains rattled like serpents as they lunged.

Their coordination was unnervingly perfect. Dozens of daggers flew from all sides, tracing arcs of violet energy as they sought to pierce him.

Clank! Clank!

Every blade met an invisible wall. Emery hadn’t even raised a hand; a thin veil of spirit energy surrounded him like a calm storm. The air rippled from the impact, and the assassins staggered back—but the chains didn’t stop. They whipped forward again, twisting around his body like constricting snakes.

The air filled with the grinding sound of metal tightening against magic.

Emery frowned slightly. “Irritating.”

With a single flex of his fingers, the air around him imploded.

Crack!

The chains shattered like glass. The shockwave threw the attackers back several meters, their bodies crashing into the snow.

The Grand Magus’s mask tilted upward slightly, his tone shifting in recognition.

“A Grand Magus realm… So you’ve been hiding your strength.”

Emery’s expression remained calm. “Now that you know, why don’t you tell me who you are?”

A chuckle echoed behind the mask. “It won’t be as effective, but it should still be enough.”

“Enough for wh—” Emery’s words cut off abruptly. The purplish smoke that had clung to his robes hadn’t dissipated—it was still there, seeping through the folds like ink in water.

“…Poison,” he muttered.

“Indeed,” the Grand Magus said, his voice smug. “That’s our Violet Death. Strong enough to corrode the spirit channels of a Grand Magus. If you want the antidote, you’ll tell us where the woman is.”

For a moment, Emery’s brow furrowed. Then, his lips curved. “You think poison would work on me?… That’s cute…”

Then, lowering his voice to a whisper as he spoke a single word.

“Chututlu.”

The atmosphere changed in an instant. From beneath his robes, it responded—an otherworldly presence rising to meet its master’s call.

A ripple of darkness surged outward. The air thickened as if the world itself recoiled. From Emery’s body burst a flood of dark energy, twisting and contorting, taking on the shape of writhing tentacles made of mist and shadow. Each tendril pulsed with an inner violet sheen, alive with the hungry essence of the abyss.

The purplish smoke—once meant to kill him—was instantly consumed. The tentacles coiled through the air, inhaling the poison greedily, devouring every wisp until none remained.

The Grand Magus’s composure cracked. “A… a poison master?!”

He didn’t hesitate. “RETREAT!”

The ten magus moved instantly, breaking formation and leaping back through the air, their chains retracting like serpents returning to their masters.

But Emery only raised a brow. His voice came calm and almost amused.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

He stretched out his hand—and space itself twisted.

Reality bent under his command, folding like glass under pressure. The fleeing magus suddenly found their steps looping backward, their forms dragged toward the very point they’d just escaped. Their expressions turned from focus to sheer horror as invisible walls of spatial force snapped shut around them.

The ground beneath erupted.

From the frost-crusted soil burst thick emerald vines, pulsating with spiritual energy. They shot upward like living whips, wrapping around the fleeing magus in an instant. The air filled with their screams as the vines constricted, dragging them down to the earth and pinning them in place.

Then the dark tentacles of Chututlu descended, gliding over the trapped magus like a swarm of spectral serpents. The abyssal mist engulfed them—hissing, corrupting. Their resistance lasted only moments before their bodies went limp, paralyzed.

Only the grand magus leader remained, hovering high in the air, frozen by shock.

Emery tilted his head upward, his golden eyes glinting faintly through the haze.

“Now that I have all your men… are you ready to talk yet?”

To Emery’s surprise, the grand magus leader abruptly vanished—his body dissolving into a cloud of smoke that scattered into the air. The man didn’t even glance back at his subordinates. One moment he was there, the next, gone.

Emery frowned. “He left his men behind… just like that? Not even a fight?!” he muttered to himself. “Either he’s a coward—or he’s clever enough to know when to run.”

Extending his divine sense, Emery quickly locked onto the man’s energy signature streaking through the wilderness nearly a hundred miles away. He was just about to give chase when something unusual caught his attention.

The ten captives restrained by his vines began convulsing violently. Their bodies twisted unnaturally, veins bulging, skin rippling as if something was crawling beneath it.

“What now…” Emery murmured, his expression darkening.

The first scream tore through the air—raw, agonized. A moment later, a horrific sight unfolded before him. The captives’ bodies began to bloat grotesquely, swelling like overfilled sacks until, with a wet crack, their skin ruptured. From within their torn flesh, several black centipedes burst forth slick with blood. The air filled with their chittering as they scattered across the icy ground.

Emery gazed at the slithering centipedes and immediately realized they were no ordinary insects. Though a flicker of curiosity and grim amusement crossed his face, the scene before him quickly turned grim.

The magus captives died one after another, their bodies collapsing into twitching heaps. Only the two full-moon magus still resisted, their cores burning desperately as they struggled to suppress the infestation. Emery raised a hand, summoning purifying energy in an attempt to preserve them—he still needed answers—but before he could intervene, their spirit energy surged violently out of control.

Their cores ignited.

BOOM!BOOM!

Twin explosions of spiritual energy erupted, shaking the ground. Waves of heat and pressure rolled across the frozen cave, shattering the surrounding stone. Emery was forced to shield himself, his cloak billowing from the force. When the smoke cleared, nothing remained of the captives but smoldering ash.

Chututlu’s whisper slid into his mind like a serpent through mist.

<It’s unfortunate I can’t feed on their bodies,> the voice crooned. <But you don’t mind if I take those centipedes, do you?>

Emery exhaled slowly, his golden eyes scanning the charred remains. “Go ahead,” he replied. “Just tell me what you learn from them later.”

<As you wish>

Dark tendrils slithered from his shadow, sweeping over the ground like ink spilling through water. One by one, the writhing centipedes were pulled into the void, their screeches fading into silence.

By then, the grand magus leader was already far—almost a thousand miles away. His escape technique was fast, enough to escape from most magus. Unfortunately for him, Emery was not most magus.

With a deep breath, Emery summoned one of his treasure. Light shimmered along his back as wings of radiant unfolded—the Icarus Wings. A single flap split the air with a thunderous crack, propelling him forward like a meteor streaking through the clouds.

He closed the distance in moments. The fleeing aura loomed ahead—then suddenly, it vanished. Completely.

Emery halted midair, scanning the horizon with narrowed eyes. “Gone?” he muttered. “No… not gone. Hidden.”

He extended his divine sense again, sweeping across mountains, forests, and valleys. But the man’s presence had completely disappeared. It wasn’t mere concealment—this was something deeper, a deliberate suppression of existence itself.

He frowned, expanding his search radius. His consciousness spread like an invisible tide, touching every living thing within hundreds of miles. Among the countless signatures of beasts, trees, and faint spiritual plants, something caught his attention—small flickers of unnatural energy.

Insects.

At first glance, they seemed ordinary—tiny creatures fluttering above the forest canopy. But when Emery focused, he felt it: threads of faint spiritual energy woven through their bodies, like puppet strings. Someone was controlling them.

He clenched his fist, channeling a pulse of energy. One of the insects—a small, gleaming beetle—froze midair. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled it toward him, suspending it within a sphere of stasis.

The beetle buzzed and vibrated violently, wings crackling. And then—

A voice came through it. A familiar, exasperated voice.

<Hei! I appreciate that you came for me, but you caught the wrong insect!>

Emery’s eyes widened. That voice—

“…Annara?”