Earth's Greatest Magus



Hearing the continuous bombardment outside of the Citadel made Emery wish he hadn't accepted the responsibility given to him by the female apothecary master. The deep booms and shattering noises were a constant reminder of the urgency and danger looming outside the stone walls.

However, within the first ten minutes of learning the skill being imparted to him, Emery quickly changed his mind. It was no ordinary training. He was being taught a combination of spells and apothecary, a rare blend of mystic art and scientific knowledge, a skill that was unusual to be performed by an apothecary Master.

Using one of the most vigorous essences she could find on this beleaguered planet, Master Flemming created one unique apothecary product. It was not a potion to be drunk, it was a solid stick to be burned. An incense imbued with spiritual power.

[Spirit Rejuvenating Incense]

When the stick slowly dissipates, It brings upon thick spirit energy within the area, a potent force that could be harnessed to help recover spiritual energy, nourishing the soul itself.

Emery was fascinated by the process, watching as the master carefully selected ingredients, chanting incantations, and performing precise movements with her hands. Every step was meticulously executed.

The next part of the training was even more challenging. Emery had to learn the skill to help channel such energy to the spirit souls. For this to succeed, the caster needed to have proficiency in light elements, one that has compatibility with any other elements. He had to slowly, surgically dive into each of the spirit souls to do the task.

This practice was quite uncommon to be performed within the magus universe. The delicacy of the spirit soul made such practice to be conducted using specific artifacts and specialized equipment. It was a task that demanded finesse and unshakable concentration.

But with such limitations in Demon's Pitt, a place teeming with dark energies and void of proper resources, there was no choice but to learn the skill manually.

It was a processing technique that Master Flemming learned with the cost of destroying the life of multiple souls. The stakes were high, and the process fraught with peril. A single misstep could lead to irreversible damage. But after three intense days of practice, under the watchful eye of the master, Emery finally found the right balance. He had just enough control to succeed, empowering one spirit soul, turning its dimmed light back to glow, like a once-dead star rekindled.

"You are ready!" She said, her stern face breaking into a smile for the first time, a glimmer of pride in her eyes.

Emery himself knows that he has so much needed time to train, he also found some ideas that could turn this technique into helping his own recovery, but time was running out.

At the same time that Emery finished, the sound of the bombardment was dissipating. Through his spirit reading, Emery could sense that the fight outside had just stopped. The air was filled with tense silence like the world holding its breath.

Before he was about to rush out to see the battlefield, Commander Sheperd came into the secured room. His face was drawn and weary, his armor dented and stained with the evidence of battle.

He brought with him three magus spirit souls, delicate ethereal entities, to be added among the 80 already inside the glass cage. 

The commander heaved a sigh, his chest rising and falling heavily before he turned toward the other glass container filled with 30 dark elves' souls. His eyes were wild, haunted by what he had seen on the battlefield.

"Let's just vanquish them all" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of fatigue and rage.

The continuous battle outside seemed to have taken its toll on the commander's mind as well, leaving him frayed at the edges. He proposed to destroy these dark elves' souls so they couldn't be freed if the citadel fell. 

He also announced that he could not spare the magus guard that protected the room, their skills were needed outside to join the battle.

After a little debate with Master Flemming who was in charge of the souls, a decision was reached.

"Take the guards, I will be guarding this place myself," Master Flemming said with determination, her voice steady and her eyes resolute. "I swear to destroy these souls myself if it comes to that."

Her words hung heavily in the room, a solemn vow that everyone understood the weight of.

Seeming satisfied, the commander gazed upon Emery, his eyes assessing. "Is he ready?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of hope.

With acknowledgment from the Apothecary Master, the commander said

"Ok, you follow me now. We have a little time to prepare," he said, urgency creeping back into his voice.

While following the commander through the winding halls of the Citadel, Emery was briefed on the situation outside. The commander's voice was low and tense, his words coming out in a rapid flow as he explained what was happening.

Emery could feel the gravity of the situation settling upon him. The lull in the battle was not a victory but a pause, a moment to catch their breath before the storm raged once more.

"The orcs are currently gathering their main force," he said, his eyes darting to a window that looked out onto the grim landscape. His gaze lingered there for a moment, as though he could see the enemy's movements in his mind's eye. "They are waiting for one final decisive attack."

He turned back to Emery, his eyes narrowed and serious. "I believe the next attack will be right when the draught starts. We have a little time to prepare."

The words hung heavy in the air, each a weighty reminder of what was at stake. The fortress, their lives, and the fate of everyone within the Citadel rested on the brink of an impending battle. A battle that could be their last.

Commander Sheperd's face was a mask of resolve as he led Emery to the secret room, where the ship was located. The room filled with Master Borin and all the full moon Magus captains were there.

Their eyes met Emery's, each gaze filled with the gravity of the task ahead. Among them was a surprising presence – Atlas, standing calmly amidst the tension.

Apparently they had convened for one crucial task: to decide the final list of five passengers for the ship designed to escape the planet. The faces around the room were etched with determination, knowing that they were not just choosing who would leave but who would stay behind.

"Alright, let's decide together," Commander Sheperd announced