Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

The ancient city of Feypore was considered the most prosperous magical civilization to have ever existed on Tron. Thousands of years ago, this city was considered the shining jewel of the planet. It was a city of unmatched beauty and power.

It was said that the ancient Magi of Feypore had formulated spells so great that they could reach the stars and dance with the twin moons. Legend had it that the artifacts created by these experts were some of the best to have ever existed on this planet.

Of course, the vast majority of these spells and artifacts had been lost or destroyed in the ravages of time. When the great calamity struck Feypore, its proud civilization, along with its Magi, had vanished into legends.

While many legacies and inheritances still lay hidden in the ruins of Mabi, waiting to be claimed by the destined, several had already found their way into the hands of the present-day Magi.

Some of these legacies left behind by the ancient Magi of Feypore had been passed down through the generations. The Magi who inherited them went on to become powerful arcane spellcasters who left their marks in the annals of Tron's history.

The black staff in Professor Whitaker's hand was one such legacy!

Dendar Saratoga, the First Lord of Ravenfell and the Founder of Saratoga Castle, had ventured to the lost city of Feypore, overcoming countless obstacles and life-threatening dangers to acquire this powerful magical staff.

The staff was originally crafted to accelerate spellcasting and hasten the replenishment of the wielder's mana reserves. However, the First Headmaster had modified its runes and bound it to the ancient castle itself.

In the hands of its wielder, the castle would no longer be just a fortress… it would become a weapon!

With a simple tap, an indiscernible ripple of energy originated from the staff, spreading outward, and touching every inch of the castle.

The statues of the stone knights lining the pathway through the corridor suddenly shifted. Crimson light blazed from the narrow slits of their visors. Then, one by one, they leapt down from their pedestals, their movements stiff, as though waking from a centuries-long slumber.

The stone knights wore full suits of ancient stone armor, their forms broad and imposing. Moreover, each knight bore a unique weapon, suited to their individual battle style.

One held a longsword, nearly as tall as a man, its edge gleaming unnaturally sharp. Another hefted a halberd, its axe-head engraved with powerful runes. A third wielded a massive warhammer, so heavy it cracked the stone beneath its feet with every step.

The nimble knight among them wielded a scimitar, built for swift and precise strikes. Standing tall at the rear, a knight cradled a long bow as tall as himself. Another bore a flail. Several of them moved in tandem, wielding swords and shields.

Though they wielded different weapons, they all shared one unmistakable trait—aside from their bodies being sculpted entirely from stone. Every single one of them radiated powerful energy fluctuations, each on par with a Mana Vortex Magus!

Witnessing these dozens of stone knights come to life, a terrifying foreboding feeling welled up in Daggett's heart. On his way from the underground level, just how many stone knights had he seen throughout the castle?

Too many to count!

And not only that, there were countless stone statues, especially gargoyles, built on the exterior of the castle. Daggett subconsciously turned his head to his left, glancing at the night sky through the tall, arched windows.

And there they were…

Countless stone abominations flying in the distance!

She's just a Mana Vortex Magus! How can she wield so much power?! He thought to himself, thunderstruck.

The staff!

Daggett abruptly turned his head, glaring at the black staff in the elderly woman's hand. It was difficult to see her figure since she was being shielded by several stone knights; still, he managed to spot the staff in her hands.

"A Grade 4 Artifact!" He spat through gritted teeth. "But how can it be so powerful?! There has to be a steep price to wield that staff! "

He shifted his attention to Whitaker, his eyes narrowing. Soon, his lips curled into a cold grin. "I wonder how long you can sustain that artifact."

As he had pointed out, wielding such a powerful artifact was too straining on a Mana Vortex Magus like Mathilda. Just a simple command to bring the statues to life had already drained the color from her face.

Still, her eyes blazed with unwavering resolve. "I'll repeat my words again, Magus. You've made the grave mistake of intruding upon my home. Now… face the consequences."

Tap!

The stone knights surged towards the necromancer, their combined energy converging into a devastating tide of lethal force. It was like a tsunami of raw destruction, thundering down the corridor.

Daggett met the challenge head-on. He rapidly weaved hand seals and summoned his undead army. From the darkness of his shadow, a swirling portal to the Underworld tore open. One by one, the corrupted warriors and Magi of old clawed their way out.

Rotting flesh met rocky might as the undead surged forward, only to be met by the unwavering charge of the ancient guardians. One side reeked of decay and darkness, the other blazed with sheer will and conviction.

An explosive sound thundered as the two forces clashed, destroying the walls and windows on each side of the corridor. Professor Whitaker remained steadfast as she continued to infuse the staff with her energy, the life slowly draining away from her face.

Meanwhile, Daggett remained standing at ease. Though he did have a solemn expression on his face. He wasn't worried about himself, but his men. There were countless other stone statues throughout the castle, after all.

Now, he was even beginning to wonder if the number of people he'd brought with him was far too few…

Damn this castle, he cursed inwardly.

For now, he didn't summon the Mana Core-level undead creatures. They were his trump card, after all. Moreover, he still didn't know what else the elderly woman—or rather, the ancient castle—had up her sleeves.

He was only going to summon them when… if… the situation turned worse.

And it did get worse far quicker than he had anticipated.

The portraits that once hung on the wall were now scattered across the floor due to the initial clash between the two sides. At some point during the chaos, Mathilda had issued yet another silent command.

Soon, the vivid colors within the portraits began to stir, like liquid paint awakened by ancient magic, and seeped out from the fractured frames, bleeding into the corridor beyond.

And then, the world changed…