Earth's Greatest Magus

[01:49:50]

The battle began with a full force of 171 human magus. Two relentless weeks had passed, marked by relentless skirmishes and a devastating attack by the dark elves' bomb squad. The toll was heavy, with the ranks of the defenders reduced to 128. Forty-three men had lost their lives, with half of that number falling in the last harrowing two hours alone.

8 New moon magus

92 Crescent moon magus

22 Half-moon magus

6 Full moon magus

Though they maintained three-quarters of their original strength, the human magus were on the brink. Their fragile walls were crumbling, the morale was eroding, and the relentless orc invasion was taking its toll.

The north walls were in ruins, a gaping wound that had allowed the orc horde to pour into the citadel. With no reserves to call upon, every magus was forced to stand their ground, fighting without pause to rest, heal, or recover their vital spirit souls.

The human magus began to fall, one after another, each minute marking another tragic loss.

Emery, consumed with anger and a burning desire to face the dark elves once more, found himself confined to the healing team. His hands, which longed to wield weapons against the enemy, were busy tending to the wounded. His mind, which craved vengeance, was focused on the delicate task of extracting spirit souls.

Among the full moon magus, almost all had the ability to detach their spirit soul from their bodies. The chances lessened with the lower ranks: half-moon magus had about a 60% chance, crescent moon 30%, and new moon less than 10%. Emery's task was to increase those odds, giving the fallen another chance for life, another hope of redemption.

It was a vital duty, but also a tormenting one, to approach the fallen one by one, witness their last breath, unable to fight, unable to vent his frustration on the enemy.

[01:20:32]

Another half-hour of brutal battle had slipped away, and 24 more magus had fallen. Emery's efforts were unceasing, yet he was only able to extract the spirit souls from half of the fallen, his failure rate increasing tragically with the added casualties.

The human magus were stretched to their limit, their numbers dwindling, their defenses weakened, and their resolve tested as never before. At this pivotal moment, the dark elves made their presence known once again.

"Which sides? North? South?" Emery's voice cut through the chaos, his senses extended, searching, probing. This time, he could feel the dark elves all around, their audacity growing with the citadel's increasing vulnerability.

But Emery was no fool; he knew this was not the time for the dark elves to fight in the open. Not when their New Khan was an assassin, not when they still harbored hidden intentions. Emery's mind was fixed on two targets: Kieran, the scarred dark elf, and the female Dunmer elf who had led their deadly bomb squad.

"Where is it? Where?" Emery's voice was a growl, his frustration mounting.

The chaos of battle raged around him, a storm of noise, motion, and violence that made it harder for him to focus on his surroundings. But in that turmoil, one figure stood out, a beacon guiding him to his prey.

From high above the sky, the half Machine Magus, Atlas launched a bombardment on an area outside the eastern gate, pinpointing the enemy's bomb squad with unerring accuracy.

Emery's eyes widened as he saw the commander himself dash toward the location. With the commander taking charge, Emery's attention could narrow to his remaining target.

"Kieran! Where are you!" Emery's voice rang out, a challenge, a promise of retribution.

Sensing elusive movements in the shadows all around the citadel and yet unable to find his quarry, Emery's determination solidified. He raised his arms and cast a spell:

[Light Wing]

A wing of shimmering light sprouted from his back, defying the planet's unique gravity. Emery ascended to the skies, hovering above the citadel as he invoked a powerful [Illuminate]. A massive ball of radiant light burst forth, an ethereal beacon washing over the area. The shadows that had once cloaked the ground were banished, and hidden assassins were revealed, their dark designs exposed.

"Kill them all!" Emery commanded, his voice filled with authority and resolve.

He descended, swooping upon the 20 dark elves that were now seen within the citadel's walls. The magus defenders, battered and weary, rose up, mustering their last bits of energy for the final brawl. Every heart was committed to the cause; this would be the end of the dark elves, even if it meant paying with their lives.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the eastern gate, Commander Shepherd acted with incredible speed and precision. His hands moved in a complex pattern, invoking his hidden Arcane spell. Light coalesced and twisted into a formidable barrier: [Reversed Arcanum]. When the high-tier bomb clashed against it, the barrier held firm, its power resonating in defiance. The destructive magic was reflected back at the dark elves.

KABOOMMM!!!

The six dark elves were met with the bitter taste of their own spells and were blown to pieces. Their twisted forms were a testament to the merciless cycle of their own treachery.

Inside the citadel, Emery and the magus at the wall managed to eliminate a few more elves. Yet, their leader remained frustratingly out of sight. Emery's mind raced. With so many casualties inflicted upon the dark elves, it was inconceivable that the Khan would not show up. Unless, Emery realized with a chilling thought, they had another target in mind.

The realization came like a dousing of cold water, a shocking clarity that filled him with dread. With Commander Shepherd away from his post, the shadow magus might have slipped into the citadel unnoticed.

Emery's heart pounded in his chest, what awaited within could be a disaster that overshadowed everything that had happened outside the walls.

"Master Flemming!!" Emery's cry was filled with urgency, a raw plea that seemed to reverberate through the empty corridors.