Magus Supremacy

Borfan Grimvale… A bulky man who stood around 5'7" tall sat cross-legged in front of a trapped volcano that radiated waves of scorching heat throughout the underground cave. The fiery energy pulsed like a living beast, and it was so overwhelming that even the walls of the cavern seemed to tremble beneath its power.

Two swords rested carefully on the ground some distance away from him, their sharp edges gleaming faintly under the reddish glow of molten rock. His chest was bare, muscles thick and defined, marked with scars and scratches that spoke of countless battles.

His long black hair cascaded heavily down his shoulders and neck, framing a face that looked carved from stone. His golden eyes locked onto Dame, sharp and merciless, staring as though they intended to pierce through to his very soul.

Standing before his father, Dame could not tell who radiated the greater pressure—the volcano itself or the man who sat in front of it. His knees trembled under the suffocating weight of that presence, and his breath came unevenly as he forced himself not to collapse.

"Dame." Borfan's deep, menacing voice rumbled through the chamber, bouncing off the walls like a drumbeat of doom.

The room itself was vast and hollow, shaped as though it had been built only to contain the raging volcano within. The fiery mountain loomed so large that its veins of lava spread across jagged cracks, glowing like the arteries of a colossal beast. Other than the volcano, the chamber was almost barren. Only a simple desk and chair sat off in a shadowed corner, as though mocking the emptiness.

"Clan leader." Dame's voice cracked slightly as he dropped to his knees, bowing so low his forehead brushed the stone floor.

"Where were you?" Borfan demanded.

'Dad never asks where I go. He never cares about us, not once. So why now? Did… did he hear about it?'

"I… I went on an errand." Dame's words faltered, his throat dry as he swallowed nervously.

"What sort of errand? And for whom? Tell me why you entered the portal belonging to the Behemoth Clan." Borfan's golden eyes narrowed, his voice carrying the weight of a predator's growl.

'Crap. He knows. He knows everything. I'm finished.'

"I… I only went to hunt. I wanted beast cores. To craft equipment for myself." Dame forced the words out, his palms growing slick with sweat.

"We have portals of our own, dozens of them, so why trespass into the Behemoth Clan's grounds?" Borfan's voice cracked like thunder, his frown deepening into fury.

"Not only did you trespass, you slaughtered beasts recklessly to the point you almost summoned the guardian boss! Do you even realize how catastrophic that would have been? The Behemoth Clan could have lost everything!"

His roar made the walls quake and the air vibrate with raw energy. The very floor beneath Dame's knees trembled.

"I… I am sorry, clan leader!" Dame's forehead pressed hard against the ground. His voice broke with desperation. "It was foolish of me. I made a mistake and placed you in a difficult position. I beg your forgiveness."

"Placed me in a difficult position?" Borfan let out a short, cruel laugh. "Do you think I care about being placed in a difficult position? If your elder brothers had done the same, I would not have uttered a word.

Why? Because they are strong enough to bear the weight of their actions. But you…" His voice hardened into stone. "You are the weakest of my children. The most pitiful of the four. And yet you dare to act without thinking?"

Dame's fists tightened so hard his nails dug deep into his palms. His teeth ground together, the sound faint but sharp in his own ears. A vein pulsed visibly on his temple as the words sank in.

'He is right. I am the weakest. The most useless. That is why I never gain respect here. Even those beneath me in status mock me and look down on me as though I were nothing.

Why? Because I have never been able to advance. I am stuck—forever a stage 4 warrior. And Zach, someone younger than me, is already on the verge of stage 5.' His eyes burned with unshed tears.

'Useless. Worthless. An eyesore in my own clan. No matter what I do, father sees nothing. No matter how much I bleed, I remain nothing but a disappointment.'

Borfan sighed, a sound heavy with both scorn and weariness, before he slowly rose to his feet. His shadow loomed impossibly large across the glowing cavern, stretching over Dame like the shadow of judgment itself.

"You know what you have done? You nearly dragged this clan into war with the Behemoth Clan with your stupidity." His voice thundered again, sharp and cold.

Dame remained bowed, but his thoughts churned bitterly.

'Right. The Noxarian faction has never been united. Unlike the other factions who work as one body, ours is fractured, ruled by rivalries and pride.

At the heart of it stand two great clans, the Demonic Clan and the Behemoth Clan. Each oversees dozens of minor clans, each pulling in its own direction, each waiting for the other to falter. No unity. No trust. Only strength and dominance decide who survives here.'

The other factions have three major clans governing them each, but we only have two. Instead of working together as people think, we don't see eye to eye.

In fact, we have been so close to war countless times already.' Dame sighed inwardly, the weight of the faction's fragile balance pressing heavily on his mind.

"Luckily, the council of elders managed to speak to that hot-headed reckless fool. But he still insists you must be punished." Borfan sighed deeply as he shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of frustration.

'Kek! How did I ever think I would go unscathed?' Dame shook his head in disappointment, his lips curling in self-mockery.

"And if I may ask, what is my punishment?" Dame asked without lifting his head, keeping it bowed low as a sign of respect despite the growing tension.

Sigh!

Borfan let out another long breath as he walked slowly toward the trapped volcano, his back now turned to Dame. His figure looked heavy, as if the burden of leadership weighed on his shoulders.

"You know Beatrix, don't you? Do you remember her?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes," Dame answered promptly. "The youngest elite of the Umbrafell faction. She has been leading raids, attempting to encroach on our borders, pushing deeper into our faction's territories."

"At least you are useful for your memory. Tch!" Borfan scoffed with irritation. "Anyway, recent intelligence confirms she is planning a full-scale move into our faction with a little over six hundred men."

"What?!" Dame shouted in shock, his voice echoing across the chamber as he lifted his head sharply. Worry instantly carved itself across his expression.

"Yes. According to sources, she will be reaching one of our clans in a month. And since we do not wish to dirty our own hands, we decided on something else instead." Borfan's voice was calm, almost cruel in its indifference.

Dame gulped hard, a foreboding feeling crawling through his chest. He already had an idea of what was coming next.

"So, as punishment for trespassing into another clan's territory and stirring up unnecessary trouble, you are ordered to take three hundred men and face Beatrix on the day of her attack."

"Wait! What the f*ck?!" Dame shouted in horror, his body trembling as he shot upright from his bowing position. "Th…this is suicide! Beatrix is a stage five warrior, practically on the cusp of becoming stage six. How the hell am I supposed to defeat her, or even stop her, with half the numbers she's bringing?!"

"I'm sorry, but that is the council's decision," Borfan said firmly. His voice was final, brooking no argument. "There is nothing I can do to change it. Leave now and prepare for your upcoming battle. You are dismissed."