Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2827: The Party

Aerterna Gratia

That was the name of the celebration the Astiel clan had proclaimed across the Nephilim regions.

In the universal tongue, it meant the Eternal Grace—a Day of Blessing marked by the alignment of three moons, when their overlapping shadows formed a rare celestial eclipse.

Such an event occurred only once every forty five years, and for the Astiel it had been regarded as the most auspicious of days.

On this rare convergence, the Astiel did not merely celebrate the heavens.

They announced a new blessing.

The union of their crown prince with his new bride.

Invitations had spread far beyond the Astiel domain. Tens of thousands of prestigious citizens from the home planet were summoned, alongside noble families from neighboring systems. Nephilim clans, affiliated factions, and long-standing allies arrived in fleets that darkened the skies, each ship bearing sigils of status and lineage.

All gathered at Eclipse Island.

The island itself was a marvel—an enormous floating landmass anchored above a sea of luminous clouds. In preparation for the ceremony, the Astiel had transformed it into a spectacle worthy of legend.

Grand structures rose overnight, sculpted from pale crystal and moonstone, their surfaces etched with glowing runes. Blue, white, and soft golden flowers bloomed across terraces and walkways, releasing a faint, soothing fragrance that lingered in the air.

To the east and west lay vast lounges reserved for distinguished guests. To the north stood the palace pavilion—an elegant, fortress-like structure—where the Astiel family would preside as hosts.

Thousands of attendants moved in graceful order, offering rare wines, spirit-infused delicacies, and celestial instruments whose melodies drifted through the sky. Laughter and conversation blended with music as guests mingled, waiting for the main ceremony to begin. Above it all, the heavens filled with arriving vessels, their arrival lights painting the clouds in slow-moving constellations.

From the southern sky, two figures descended side by side, cutting through the clouds toward Eclipse Island.

The woman slowed first.

Ishtar’s lips curved into a faint, satisfied smile as she glanced toward the glowing venue below. ”You go and give your report,” she said coolly. ”I need time to dress up for the occasion.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and vanished into a streak of light, leaving Caelthar alone in the air, a dark stone pagoda hovering silently above his open palm.

Inside the high-grade artifact, Emery grunted in pain.

Multiple chains of icy energy coiled around his body, locking his limbs in place and pinning him within the pagoda’s inner chamber. Since his capture an hour ago, he had tried everything—brute force, spatial distortions, even precise bursts of cosmic energy—but none of it had worked.

Even with Excalibur summoned into his grasp, his strongest sword strikes failed to leave so much as a ripple on the pagoda’s walls. The restraints limited him to barely a tenth of his true strength, and whatever power he managed to force out was absorbed by the sealing formations and reflected back into his body. Each backlash tore at his flesh, the rebounding force leaving fresh wounds instead of progress.

It became clear that brute force would only kill him faster.

Accepting this, Emery stopped struggling and used the remaining time to recover.

The earlier battles had drained him far more than he liked to admit, and his greatest support—the super golem—was still recharging.

Slowly, Emery steadied his breathing and expanded his divine sense, pushing it outward with careful precision as he began to analyze his surroundings.

He was trapped inside a cold, oppressive chamber roughly fifty meters in diameter, its ceiling ten meters high. The walls were layered with overlapping formations—seals woven so densely they felt suffocating. Only a single narrow window pierced the structure, heavily filtered by defensive arrays.

With effort, Emery strengthened his divine sense and pushed it through the layers.

What he saw made his expression darken.

A celebration.

His perception extended no more than a hundred meters beyond the pagoda, no better than a mortal peering through a distant window, but it was enough. Vast structures, flowing lights, crowds gathering in ceremonial attire—everything pointed to a grand event in preparation.

Ishtar’s earlier words echoed in his mind.

This gathering had something to do with him.

Wherever they were planning, whatever role they intended for him to play, Emery knew one thing with certainty—he could not afford to be caught unprepared.

He quickly lowered himself into a lotus position, forcing his battered body into a recovery state while his consciousness slipped inward, diving toward the depths of his Khaos hub.

A grim resolve settled over him.

As expected, the seals embedded within the pagoda suppressed most of his connection to Khaos, the pathways feeling clogged and distorted as if wrapped in layers of frozen iron. Still, Emery persisted. Minute by minute, he carefully threaded his consciousness through the obstruction, forcing a narrow channel open until—at last—he felt a familiar response.

Through the Famine Gate, his awareness brushed against his light avatar.

The connection was faint, unstable, but real.

”Contact Terra City,” Emery transmitted, his will carrying the message with urgency. ”Inform them of my situation.”

He knew the truth well enough—his allies in Terra lacked any strength to help him. Yet they need to know. There was no telling how far the Astiel would dare to go to silence him.

Time passed slowly.

An hour later, Emery opened his eyes.

His wounds had closed, his breathing steady once more, and—more importantly—his connection to the Famine Gate had stabilized. With additional effort, he was confident he could force it open and tear his way out of the pagoda, and arrived on Earth, where his Avatar was.

Escape was possible.

But just as he began calculating the timing, movement outside the pagoda caught his attention.

The celebration had begun.

Caelthar descended toward the main stage. Standing at the center of the grand balcony was a man clad in royal garments, brown hair bound with a ceremonial crown woven from light and frost.

Emery recognized him.

Denard Astiel.

The crown prince’s gaze lingered on the pagoda, curiosity flickering briefly in his eyes. ”So he is crazy enough to come...” Denard said lightly.

Emery’s blood boiled.

So the crown prince was involved as well.

The moment the realization settled, Emery was ready—to leave and prepare another raid.

Then—

He froze.

From the far side of the stage, a familiar figure stepped into the light.

She wore a ceremonial silver gown, its fabric flowing like moonlight over still water. Dark hair cascaded down her back. Her beauty stole the breath from those watching, refined and distant, like something carved from a dream.

Emery felt his heart lurch.

Klea.

For a fleeting instant, relief surged through him.

She was alive. She was unharmed.

Then he saw her face.

Cold. Devoid of the warmth he knew.

Questions exploded through his mind as Denard let out a quiet chuckle.

”I’m glad you’re here to witness this,”

He stepped forward onto the balcony, extending a hand. Klea followed beside him, her movements measured, her gaze lowered.

The crowd fell silent.

”You have all waited patiently,” Denard announced, pride woven into every word. ”Now, allow me to present—Lady Kleopatra... my bride.”

The world seemed to fracture.

Emotion surged violently through Emery’s mind—shock, fury, and disbelief.

”WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!!!”

In that instant, his plans changed.

There was no time to leave and return.

”I’ll break these restraints and tear your damn party apart.”