Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2833: The Gathering

Minutes earlier,

The majority of the guests had already gathered for the Aeterna Gratia celebration.

Aside from the Astiels as hosts, six other Nephilim subsidiary clans were in attendance, along with more than twenty mid- to lower-tier factions allied with the family.

Two delegations stood out from the rest.

One group came from the Papal Church, dressed in flowing ceremonial white trimmed with radiant gold. Several Seraphs figures stood among them, faint wings of light folded behind their backs, their presence calm yet imposing.

The other was a group of Magus in silver cloaks, each with a sword at their waist. Their attire was simple, but the sharp aura surrounding them made many give way instinctively. The Heaven’s Will Sword Sect—longtime allies of the Nephilim.

In total, the gathering included more than one hundred Grand Magus, nearly a quarter of them from the Astiel clan.

Yet even these prestigious figures turned their attention when an unexpected vessel descended from the sky—a sleek flying boat bearing the crest of the Nephilim Main Family: the Amarhikks.

”Even the Amarhikk are here...”

”Wait—that’s Grand Overseer Oberyn!”

”And beside him... the Duchess of Amarhikk—Jinkan!”

”This is unusual...”

A knowing voice chuckled nearby.

”You’re behind on your information. Don’t you know that the Astiel prince’s bride is the Overseer’s prized disciple.”

Whispers spread rapidly through the crowd as Darian Astiel himself stepped forward to the receiving port, accompanied by the Storm Lord. The clan ruler wore formal robes embroidered with star-silver thread, while thunderclouds faintly coiled around the Storm Lord’s shoulders like a living mantle.

The Amarhikk vessel docked smoothly.

Grand Overseer Oberyn stepped out first, dignified and composed. At his side was Jinkan, the Amarhikk duchess, her bearing elegant yet sharp-eyed. Behind them followed four Grand Magus, one of whom was Eeshoo, his gaze already scanning the surroundings with quiet vigilance.

”You honor us with your presence,” Darian said with a gracious smile.

”How could I not?” Oberyn replied warmly. ”I would never miss my disciple’s special day. Where is she?”

As if summoned by the question, two figures approached.

Denard Astiel, crown prince, walked with polished confidence, ceremonial garments flowing like liquid starlight. A step behind him came Klea, in silver gown, her beauty silenced the crowd for a breath. Yet her expression was distant—perfect, composed... and cold.

Denard stepped forward and offered a respectful bow to the elderly Overseer before turning to Jinkan.

”I am truly surprised to see you here,” the prince said, meeting Jinkan’s gaze with a courteous smile.

Both of them carried Nephilim royal blood, yet the gap in their standing was unmistakable. Jinkan, born of the main family, ranked seventh in the line of Nephilim succession. Denard, though a crown prince in his own clan, stood far lower in the greater hierarchy—eighty-third.

Jinkan returned his smile with effortless grace before turning her attention to Klea. ”It’s hardly surprising,” she said lightly. ”After all, I am a good friend of your bride.”

Without hesitation, she stepped forward and took both of Klea’s hands in hers.

For the briefest moment, tension flickered across Denard’s face—so quick it might have gone unnoticed by most—but he masked it just as swiftly with a polite expression.

Klea, who had remained silent and distant until now, responded with a gentle smile. ”Thank you for coming. Your presence is greatly appreciated.”

The words were perfectly spoken, yet hollow. There was no warmth in her eyes, no recognition—only the practiced courtesy of a stranger.

Jinkan’s expression faltered almost imperceptibly. Her grip tightened slightly as she sent a mental whisper.

For the briefest instant, a crack formed in Klea’s composure. Her fingers twitched, and something like shock passed through her eyes.

Then it was gone.

She gently withdrew her hands, nodded once, and stepped back to Denard’s side as if nothing had happened.

Storm Lord gestured for the Amarhikk delegation to follow him toward their reserved seats. As they moved, Eeshoo leaned closer to Jinkan.

”What did you sense?” he asked quietly.

Jinkan revealed a ring on her finger, its surface etched with faint detection runes. ”It didn’t react,” she murmured. ”No sign of enchantment... but something is wrong. Very wrong.”

”Then we stop this,” Eeshoo said, tension rising in his voice.

Jinkan shook her head. ”You promised to follow my lead. If we act recklessly, we damage the Overseer’s standing. We we need more information”

Before Eeshoo could argue further, his gaze shifted across the crowd.

Atlas stood among a neutral delegation, arms folded, eyes scanning the area.

”Why is he here?” Eeshoo muttered.

Jinkan followed his line of sight. ”Then Emery must be nearby.”

With her status, Jinkan quickly found herself surrounded by nobles and envoys. Courteous smiles and layered formalities boxed her in from every side, leaving her little room to move without drawing attention. Eeshoo, however, was far less constrained. He slipped away and made his way through the crowd with quiet urgency.

He soon located Atlas near the outer ring of honored guests. The two exchanged only the briefest of nods before speaking through concealed spiritual transmission.

Emery had come to Lysantheon. That much Atlas confirmed. More troubling was what came next: Emery’s clone, which had remained near him, had vanished abruptly roughly four hours earlier.

Both men understood what that meant.

Something had gone very wrong.

Before they could act on that suspicion, the missing piece of the puzzle arrived on its own.

Trini of the Malachir clan approached Jinkan with visible hesitation, clearly weighing risk against opportunity. In a hushed exchange, she revealed what she had witnessed earlier that day—Emery’s confrontation, the arrival of Caelthar Astiel, and the use of a high-grade pagoda sealing artifact.

”Emery has been captured... by Caelthar.”

Jinkan’s composure did not break, but the air around her turned cold.

”We find him,” Eeshoo urged at once.

They were already shifting to move when a wave of ceremonial music rolled across the island, halting the crowd like an invisible wall.

Darian Astiel, the ruler himself rose from the northern palace terrace, his voice amplified by layered sound arrays.

”The auspicious hour has arrived,” he declared. ”Let all gathered bear witness to this blessed union—my son, Crown Prince Denard Astiel, and his bride.”

Light formations bloomed across the sky, weaving bands of rainbow radiance through drifting clouds. Petals of luminous blue and gold descended like gentle rain as the central causeway cleared.

Denard stepped forward first, clad in white and silver ceremonial robes, every movement measured and regal.

Moments later, Klea followed.

To the crowd, she looked serene. Ethereal. A perfect bride.

In contrast, Jinkan and Eeshoo knew something was terribly wrong. The wedding had started earlier than scheduled.

”We have to stop this,” Eeshoo muttered under his breath.

”No.. no we can’t!” Jinkan argued.

At the head of the ceremonial platform, a high priest of the Papal Church stepped forward, staff glowing with holy sigils as he began the rite of blessing.

That was when it happened.

Klea staggered.

Her body swayed almost imperceptibly, her expression flickered—just for an instant—as if a crack had formed beneath an icy mask.

Her lips parted as if fighting against invisible restraints.

A faint, broken whisper escaped her.

”...E... Emery...”