Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2837: Rage

The tribulation clouds slowly thinned, violet lightning fading into distant echoes as the heavens calmed. In the silence that followed, one figure remained suspended in the air above the shattered pavilion.

Emery.

Residual arcs of celestial lightning still crawled across his body, sinking into his flesh like dying serpents. Every nerve screamed, every bone felt splintered, and the aftershocks of forced ascension rippled through his meridians in waves of agony. Yet none of it mattered.

His eyes found her.

Klea lay in Jinkan’s arms, pale, trembling, her lips faintly moving as though caught between consciousness and a dream.

”...Emery...”

The sound reach his ears.

Something inside his chest twisted so hard it stole his breath more effectively than the tribulation ever had.

In that moment, the battlefield, the enemies, the politics — all of it vanished. There was only her.

He wanted to go to her. To descend, to hold her, to burn away whatever poison or soul-binding had been forced upon her.

But the aftereffects of tribulation still wrapped around him like invisible chains. His limbs felt heavy, his spiritual sea turbulent.

His eyes lifted to Jinkan.

She met his gaze immediately. No words passed between them, yet understanding flowed as clearly as spoken speech.

”She needs immediate treatment,” Jinkan said aloud, voice tight with urgency.

Emery’s jaw clenched. He already knew.

From inside the pagoda, he had seen enough — what the Astiel prince did. The subtle fluctuations in Klea’s soul signature — soul tampering, suppression, or worse — to silence her.

Rage surged up his spine like a rising inferno.

But he crushed it down.

Klea came first.

Slowly, with visible strain, Emery raised his hand. Space in front of Jinkan distorted, folding inward as he tore open a spatial rift.

It was not the Khaos Gate. With both avatars returned, he could only force a short-range portal— one that would lead closer to the Astiel teleportation nexus, not far enough for safety, but far enough to escape immediate danger.

Jinkan shifted her stance, preparing to move.

Then the sky roared again.

”None of you are leaving!!.”

The voice boomed like rolling thunder, shaking the air itself.

The Storm Lord rose into the sky, his figure wreathed in spiraling currents of wind and lightning. His battlefield domain expanded instantly, a storm world unfolding outward and swallowing the surrounding space. Air howled. Pressure mounted. Space twisted as if caught in a violent vortex.

The forming rift shuddered violently.

Then it shattered into fragments of broken light.

Emery’s jaw tightened.

He stepped forward, power flaring, ready to meet the three-cosmos elder head-on.

But Jinkan moved first.

She did not speak to the Storm Lord. She did not appeal to the Grand Overseer.

Instead, she turned toward the gathered guests, her voice amplified by spiritual force.

”Friends, you all heard it. The Astiels forced this woman against her will, and now they dare to stop us from taking her to safety.”

Murmurs rippled.

Denard reacted instantly.

”That is a lie!” he shouted, stepping forward with feigned outrage. His voice trembled with manufactured emotion as he pointed toward Emery in the sky. ”My bride broke our engagement, betrayed her promise, all for that man. Those two adulterers dare to cause a scene here and disgrace this sacred day!”

His words were calculated, loud enough for every allied faction to hear.

Emery’s gaze snapped toward him.

Just a look.

That was all it took.

Denard’s voice hitched, his spine going rigid as instinctive fear crawled up his back. Still, he forced himself to continue, desperation bleeding into his tone.

”He is the cause of everything today! He slaughtered dozens of our warriors—” Denard turned sharply, pointing toward the Heaven’s Will Sword Sect delegation. ”He even murdered Caelthar!”

The reaction was immediate.

Shock rippled through the Heaven’s Will Sword Sect. Caelthar was one of them, he was one of the sect’s brightest prodigy.

Several sword cultivators stepped forward, hands already resting on their hilts, their gazes locking onto Emery with rising hostility.

The sword master voice heavy with disbelief and fury.

”Is this true?! Did you kill him?”

Emery did not answer.

He did not lower his gaze, did not offer explanation, did not attempt justification. His silence was heavy, deliberate—and in the charged atmosphere, it sounded very much like an admission.

Around them, the crowd’s earlier confusion began to harden into something uglier. Whispers turned into accusations. Accusations turned into judgment. Many present were long-time allies, vassals, or beneficiaries of Astiel power. They did not need the full truth—only a target.

But Emery did not care about their verdict.

He cared about Klea.

While hostility thickened in the air, Emery’s thoughts raced. He measured distances, power signatures, escape routes. A direct breakout now would drag Klea into the center of a battlefield between dozens of grand magus.

Unacceptable.

His gaze slid to the one figure still calm amid the chaos.

Oberyn, The Grand Overseer.

The only person here with both the authority and strength to extract Klea to safety.

A silent mental exchange passed between them.

Then,

Emery rose higher into the sky, aura blazing.

”Yes, it’s true!” his voice carrying across the fractured plaza ”She chose me. That Astiel prince never deserved her!.”

A collective gasp rippled through the gathered factions.

Jinkan, Eeshoo, even Atlas stared at him in disbelief—but not for the same reason as the others. They knew Emery. For him to confess such thing so provocatively, made no sense—

Until it did.

The Grand Overseer moved at last.

He stepped forward, placing himself subtly between Jinkan and the Astiel forces, then inclined his head toward Astiel ruler Darian.

”It appears this is a personal matter,” he said evenly. ”It does not concern us. I will be taking my disciple to receive immediate treatment.”

Understanding dawned across several sharp minds at once.

Emery had drawn the blame onto himself, severing public ties between the Amarhiks and the incident. In return, the Overseer would get Klea out to safety.

Darian’s expression darkened. He saw it too. He understood the implication immediately. If they allowed the Grand Overseer to depart with Klea under the framing Emery had just created, then—at least publicly—the Asteiel could not be held accountable for what happened to Klea. The narrative would shift away toward a volatile personal conflict.

Darian Astiel’s gaze hardened as he weighed against consequence

To seal such hesitation,

Emery turned toward the Heaven’s Will Sword Sect again.

His voice rang out, cutting through the murmurs that rolled across the island.

”Yes... I killed Caelthar!!”

A tremor passed through their ranks.

Then Emery’s expression turned openly scornful.

”And your so-called third elder? I killed her too.”

The effect was explosive.

Gasps, curses, and killing intent flared in every direction. Now it was no longer only Astiel that had a grievance. The sword sect had lost a prodigy. Their honor demanded blood. Other factions, already unsettled, felt the pull of collective outrage. Even the papal church observers stiffened, expressions darkening at the mention of a slain Nephilim elder.

Emery had just given them all a reason.

And while their fury fixed on him, Jinkan moved, guiding the trembling Klea away under heavy Amarhikks guard.

Emery allowed himself one final glance.

That was enough.

”Kill him! Avenge the Third Elder!”

The roar came from the Astiel ranks, thick with grief and fury, and a figure broke from their formation like a comet of frost. He was one of the four royal grand magus guards, a veteran who had stood at the Winter Lord’s side for centuries, her direct disciple and inheritor of her killing arts. The moment he moved, a two-cosmos aura detonated outward from his body, waves of glacial power distorting the air and frosting the shattered marble below.

Ice spiraled up his arm, condensing into a massive spear of pale blue crystal, identical in structure to the Winter Lord’s own technique. Runes flickered within the weapon’s core, each one humming with lethal precision as killing intent locked onto Emery’s soul.

”DIE!!!”

He thrust the spear forward.

The world along its path froze. Moisture crystallized midair, space stiffening as if reality itself had been flash-frozen, the weapon stretching into a streak of absolute zero aimed straight for Emery’s heart.

Emery did not move back.

All the grief, terror, and helpless fury he had been holding in since seeing Klea collapse burned through him in a single, blistering surge.

He stopped restraining it.

Excalibur manifested in his hand in a blaze of white-gold brilliance, its edge singing as the Dao of Heaven and Earth roared through his meridians. Lightning from the tribulation still crawled faintly across his skin, and now it fused with the living force of Gaia and the devouring dark within him, forming a violent, perfect equilibrium.

He stepped forward into the attack and swung.

There was no hesitation.

One clean arc of annihilating light.

The ice spear met the blade and disintegrated instantly, exploding into a storm of glittering shards. The Astiel royal guard’s eyes widened, fury turning to disbelief as the sword-light continued on, unstoppable.

A thin line of brilliance passed through his chest, separated his body into two halves, blood mist covered the sky.

Silence fell like a hammer.

One strike.

One of Astiel’s top grand magus—gone.

Emery lowered his blade slowly, shoulders rising and falling with controlled, burning breath. His eyes, bright with grief and wrath, swept across the stunned ranks of Astiel elites and every watching.

His voice rolled out, layered with the echo of heaven and earth themselves.

”Who else!?!” he demanded, pointing Excalibur toward them, ”Come at me!!!”

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