Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

A figure wearing tattered robes, drenched in blood, burst forth from the depths of Marian Lake. Moments later, several ink-coated tentacles tore through the surface of the lake, lashing out in relentless pursuit.

The battered figure weaved frantically through the air, dodging strike after strike. After several close brushes with death, he finally managed to slip free of their grasp.

At a certain height, the tentacles halted, swaying ominously before sinking back into the lake's depths. Hovering in the air, the figure cast a fearful glance towards the deep waters below.

Then, without hesitation, the figure turned around and flew away. He didn't want to be anywhere near the lake. For in its depths, lay a titanic kraken and an army of merfolk!

The Elder's intel was wrong, the figure thought as he flew away.

It was an elderly man with long, gray hair and dark, lifeless eyes. Daggett of the Cult of Bones suffered grave injuries in his battle against Ink and its army. He had severely underestimated Saratoga's trump cards.

Speaking of Saratoga…

He stopped mid-air, then turned towards the distant castle perched atop a hill. A few sections of this ancient fortress were destroyed, and smoke and fire were billowing through the windows.

And yet, it remained standing.

Daggett had lost his Rank 4 undead creatures as well. Thinking of his great loss, the elderly man squinted, his eyes flickering with a murderous light.

But in the end, he heaved a long and helpless sigh.

Saratoga Castle was protected by several defensive barriers. It would require a group of Mana Core Magi to break through it. And even if he did manage to enter the castle, the kraken would be waiting for him.

Daggett knew that the castle in the depths of the lake and the one before him shared a magical connection.

Damn it! He cursed inwardly.

The men he had brought with him were dead. The undead army was dead—again. Moreover, his own Rank 4 undead creatures were also destroyed.

Daggett was utterly and thoroughly defeated.

His only consolation was that at least he managed to survive a brutal battle against Ink the Kraken. But even then, the injuries he had sustained were not minor. He reckoned he would need years to fully recover.

More than his injuries, however, the death of his Rank 4 undead knights pained him even more. It took him a lot of time, effort, and resources to create those knights. Not only did he have to defeat those powerful foes in battle, but he also had to spend a ton of money to turn them into his undead puppets.

That damned woman!

Daggett gnashed his teeth in rage as the image of Mathilda Whitaker surfaced in his mind. He sighed yet again, thinking to himself helplessly:

At least one of them managed to kill her before it died.

Her death eased his pain. Albeit very slightly.

Soon, his expression grew solemn as he turned in the direction of Ravenfell.

The Elder told me to return to the city after dealing with Saratoga, he thought.

There was slight hesitation in his eyes. Within the Cult, failure was not tolerated. The fact that he had failed so spectacularly in conquering Saratoga Castle would be heavily frowned upon.

It didn't matter if he was a mighty Mana Core Magus. In front of the Inner Council and the Cult Leader, his strength and status meant nothing. He would be made to pay for his failures nonetheless. But at least, he was still alive...

In the end, Daggett still chose to fly to Ravenfell and join the war there.

As for his failure? He could explain his circumstances to the Elder and expect some leniency. Not only did Daggett have to battle Ink, who was a Mana Core Rank existence, but he also had to fight Mathilda Whitaker, who was no weaker than a Mana Core Magus with the assistance of the black staff.

He believed that the Elder would come to understand his point of view. After all, among the five Elders of the Inner Council, the one in Ravenfell currently was the most understanding. The rest of them were absolutely crazy.

Hmm, I wonder if it's because all of us are necromancers and Elder Benton isn't, he thought to himself.

Lost in thought, draped in failure and shame, Daggett slowly made his way towards the city of Ravenfell.

***

Just one hour after Adam and Felix had disappeared, the Market Quarter that had been teeming with cultists had now been taken back by the armed forces of the city.

The district lay in ruins, buildings had collapsed, and the cobblestone streets were strewn with corpses. The stench of death and smoke permeated the air. Despite that, the city's forces seemed to be in a relatively good position.

They were on the brink of defeat, with the city falling into the clutches of the Cult of Bones. Yet, when the army of serpents arrived, the scales of battle switched completely.

Now, here they were. With the Market Quarter under their control, they had established a safe corridor to the Harbor Quarter to their east. And because of that simple action, the naval battle was quickly turning in their favor because of the arrival of swift reinforcements.

Moreover, the Downtown Quarter to their north was also quickly being retaken. It was only a matter of time before the Uptown Quarter was also won over. And then, their final battle would take place in the Northern Quarter.

Yet, the one who was responsible for shifting the tides of battle was not present.

Many Magi of Ravenfell had gathered around the black pillar that lay unmoving in a certain section of this district. They all gazed at the mysterious runes etched on the surface of the pillar with gloomy eyes.

Whether they wanted to accept it or not, this black pillar could very well become the last memento of the Dark King.

"Say… do you think he's going to return?" Asked a member of the Black Legion.

"…I don't know."

"As long as the serpents are here, there's some hope, no?"

As he said those words, everyone looked around the area. There were several serpents there feasting on the corpses of the cultists. These were the smaller ones. The giant serpents had all moved towards the Northern Quarter. Some had even slipped into the Galestine to assist the allied naval forces.

Just as they were discussing the status of the Dark King, the black pillar suddenly rumbled. It was subtle at first, then it vibrated so violently that the surrounding ground started to quake.

The Magi, who had gathered, were shocked and fearful of his sudden development, but soon realization dawned on them. Yet, they refused to believe their eyes.

As if confirming their speculations and rekindling hope in their hearts, the black pillar shot skyward. It streaked through the night sky, shrinking as it flew towards the Northern Quarter.

Everyone on the ground remained silent, unable to believe what they were witnessing. But it was true. It really was true! Then, with a few simple words, everyone roared in unison, their eyes blazing with renewed fighting intent and glory.

"The Dark King has returned!"