Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

The wind brushed past Nylian's hair, making it gently flutter. With the backdrop of the starlit sky, he looked less like a man and more like a celestial being, who had descended from the heavens to strike down the abominations of the Underworld.

Yet, despite slaying the Mana Core Magus, Alecto, of the Cult of Bones with a swift sword strike, the elf's face appeared slightly pale. His breathing was also a little labored. It would appear that one strike had consumed a lot of his mana.

The elf glanced at the pale and exhausted figure of an elderly man descending on the freshly cut peak, then landing gently beside him. He immediately placed a hand on his chest and respectfully bowed.

"Your Majesty, it is an honor to meet you."

He paused for a moment, then added, "And I thank you for the assist."

Gerald waved a hand. He looked even paler than the elf, and there were beads of sweat constantly trickling down from his forehead. His chest was heaving up and down, and he seemed to be straining to even breathe. Seeing this, Nylian couldn't help but feel greatly concerned.

Not only had the Emperor Emeritus been fighting for the entire night, but he had also just now swiftly taken care of the cultists in order to provide a chance for Nylian to finish off one of them.

To the untrained eye, it might seem like Gerald had effortlessly fought the cultists and separated them, but in truth, he had expended vast amounts of his mana reserves to make such an incredible feat possible.

Furthermore, he was an old man with one foot already in the grave. Suffice to say, stamina was not his strongest suit. And yet… he had taken care of those four cultists so smoothly. That only went on to show his terrifying battle prowess despite his old age.

The elderly ruler coughed violently, his palm stained by his blood. But he thought nothing of it at all. He turned to the elf and nodded with approval. "Good strike."

Then, without bothering about Nylian's reply, he scanned the battlefield. The three cultists were recovering from his last attack. It would take only a few seconds for them to rejoin their battle. Balthazar, on the other hand, was struggling to further contain the six undead knights.

Gerald's expression twisted into a dark scowl. "Those wretched creatures are a constant hindrance. I doubt we'll get another chance to kill the cultists like we did just now. So long as those knights remain, the situation will turn dire. Even Balthazar's flames can only hold them back for so long."

Then, he turned south, facing Ravenfell. "Berger, Blackie, and Kieran will take some time to deal with the two knights over there, and then we'll have…"

He turned back to their current battlefield—snowladen peaks touching the sky, and a sea of black flames engulfing the ground.

"Six of us against nine of them," Nylian said in a grim voice. He'd never imagined his first battle as a Mana Core Magus to be so intense.

"There's also their leader to account for, but I'm confident in Marcus's skills. In a one-on-one battle against him, very few in this world can achieve victory. Even I may not be able to defeat him," Gerald muttered, his gaze locked onto the three cultists slowly flying towards them.

Nylian was slightly surprised by hearing such praise about his mentor. The one to give said praise was none other than the Second Emperor of Acadia, after all. And all the emperors in the empire's history have been known to be the strongest Magi in Ulier.

Suddenly, the air around them shifted. Both of them instantly turned alert, thinking it was a surprise attack. But much to their relief—and surprise—a small rift in the space appeared out of nowhere, and from it, a wisp of smoke emerged, floating towards the elderly man.

Gerald frowned. He recognized this smoke… it was Berger's method of sending messages to him through the Spirit World!

The smoke levitated before his eyes, then turned into a string of words that only he could see.

"Your Majesty, what is it?" Asked Nylian as he got ready to battle.

The cultists were already upon them. Meanwhile, Balthazar was also flying towards them, unable to pin down the six undead knights any longer. It was going to be a very brutal battle ahead of them.

Gerald Acadia muttered in a daze, "It's from my disciple… he..."

He stopped speaking those words aloud. Instead, he sent a Mind Whisper to both Nylian and Balthazar.

'Adam has a way to permanently deal with the undead knights. We just need to gather all six of them in one place."

Nylian and Balthazar were stunned!

How is a mere Mana Vortex Magus capable of taking care of six beings one entire rank above him?

That was a ridiculous notion!

Nylian remained silent, his brows furrowing into a tight knot. Balthazar, on the other hand, couldn't help but voice out his concern.

'Are we truly going to leave such a big task in the hands of that boy?'

He paused for a moment, then added, 'Old Man Acadia… do you trust him?'

Gerald inhaled deeply, his eyes hardening with resolve. Two thick chains burst from his sleeves as he sent a mental transmission to both Magi:

'Have faith in Adam. We must find a way to draw those undead knights together. Now, attack!'

And then, another brutal clash erupted in the mountain range, this one far more terrifying, far more desperate than the previous clashes.

The Battle of Ravenfell was at last beginning to draw to a close.

***

In the farmlands south of the city, the tenebrous cloud slowly dissipated. Blackwood saw no meaning in needlessly expending mana and using it to attack his enemy any longer. He had tried to look for weak points, but Marden's blood magic was clearly very good at healing him.

As the dark mist disappeared, Blackwood appeared standing in front of Marden's corpse. However, instead of feeling reassured or triumphant, he had a very cold look on his face.

"You keep resorting to these petty tricks," he spat coldly. "What are you stalling for?"

A few moments of eerie silence ensued, and then… a carefree chuckle echoed on the battlefield.

"Ah, Headmaster, as expected of you. There's no fooling your senses."

Marden slowly appeared like a mirage a few dozen meters away from the Headmaster, his hands clasped behind his back. The black blade was already sheathed and out of sight. He glanced at Blackwood's cold face and said with a smile:

"I wasn't trying to stall, by the way. I was making preparations. Can you believe it? It took me almost the entire night!"

Then, his smile turned vicious and cruel.

"I was only trying to poison you, Headmaster. You see… I had to be very subtle about it. Tell me, do you feel it?"

Blackwood's eyes narrowed. He was about to speak, when suddenly…

A single drop of blood slid from his nose and splattered onto the ground.