Earth's Greatest Magus

Emery’s mind raced as he stood amidst the eerie, distorted landscape. A perfect replica of Citadel City stretched out before him, down to the destroyed northern gate and the freshly shattered building from the recent sandstorm.

But this was no mere illusion; his divine sense confirmed it was a physical world.

How is this possible?

Emery questioned, his thoughts churning. His spatial ability probed the area, desperate to decipher the natural laws of this strange mirror world.

A low chuckle echoed across the battlefield, drawing his attention.

Tolaro emerged from the shadows, his piercing gaze locked onto Emery as he smirked.

“You cannot comprehend this place, can you?” Tolaro taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’ve yet to reach the Grand Magus realm. Escape is beyond you!”

Ignoring the provocation, Emery focused on his options. His Domain was intact, but calling upon Twik or Livi in this unknown realm would be reckless. Instead, he decided to buy himself time. With a flick of his hand, Emery unleashed the captives stored within his Magus Domain—three dozen in total. These were not comrades, but shattered souls: dark elves and criminals who had been broken during his spirit-reading experiments. Their eyes were hollow, devoid of purpose, their movements sluggish and almost puppet-like. Yet, in this dire moment, they might serve as a temporary distraction.

Tolaro’s mocking laughter froze as the captives appeared, his smirk twisting into a scowl.

“You think these wretches will help you?” he sneered, raising his hand.

The air crackled with power as his spatial wheel materialized—a disc of shimmering energy that pulsed with deadly intent. In a single motion, the wheel tore through the first wave of captives, its edges gleaming with a vicious light. The dismembered bodies fell, blood painting the ground in arcs.

Tolaro didn’t stop. In his other hand, his bone saber gleamed menacingly, radiating a dark energy that seemed to sap the warmth from the air. He moved with surgical precision, his blade slashing through flesh and bone in a macabre dance. The captives fell one by one, their lifeless forms crumpling into heaps.

Within seconds, the ground was littered with bodies—broken and bleeding, devoid of life. Tolaro stood amidst the carnage, his breathing steady, the smirk returning to his lips.

“Was that your plan?” he taunted, raising his saber. “To bore me to death?”

But Emery’s mind was already racing ahead. While Tolaro was occupied, he had been preparing his true gambit. It took some effort to release his last captive—after breaking his seal, a figure appeared: Grand Magus Rhyze, the Void Warden.

The air seemed to ripple as Rhyze stepped forward, his face twisted in fury, his hostility palpable. Yet Emery stepped forward, his tone calm but firm.

“If we don’t work together, we’ll both die by this dark elf.” Emery extended his hand, offering Rhyze a shimmering recovery pill, the highest-grade elixir he possessed.

Rhyze hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between Emery and Tolaro, before snatching the pill from Emery’s outstretched hand. His glare burned with renewed determination as he swallowed it, the potent elixir surging through his veins. Almost instantly, a visible transformation took hold—his haggard posture straightened, and his aura swelled, blazing with revitalized power.

He wasted no time. Rhyze’s hands moved with practiced precision, tracing patterns in the air that shimmered with raw spatial energy. Each motion left glowing sigils hanging in the air, their intricate designs humming with power.

“Eternal Prison!” Rhyze’s voice boomed, resonating across the mirror world.

The space around Tolaro warped and twisted, shimmering walls of distorted energy spiraling into existence. The maze was a masterpiece of spatial manipulation, its interlocking layers folding in on themselves infinitely. The labyrinth encased Tolaro completely, its translucent surfaces reflecting fragmented images of him from every angle.

For a fleeting moment, hope flickered in Emery’s chest.

But Tolaro’s laughter shattered that hope. “You still have allies?” he sneered. “Then allow me to summon mine!”

Emery thought Tolaro would send out his void stalkers unit, but he was mistaken.

The air around Tolaro darkened as an oppressive aura emanated from him. Shadows coalesced at his feet, the oppressive aura causing the ground to tremble violently. The atmosphere grew heavier with each passing second, the once-clear sky above them darkening into a swirling void.

A deep, guttural rumble split the silence as a massive spatial gate began to form beneath Tolaro, its edges crackling with unstable energy. The gate spiraled open, exuding a chilling wind that carried with it the stench of decay.

From the depths of the gate, immense bone claws emerged, their jagged edges scraping against the ground with a grating screech. The creature that followed was a monstrosity born of nightmares—a towering, skeletal beast whose serpentine body was covered in bone plates that glinted like polished ivory. Its empty eye sockets glowed with an otherworldly, icy blue light, and its gaping maw seemed to exhale pure death.

“A bone dragon?” Rhyze muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Emery shook his head, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. He had encountered bone dragons before, but this creature felt far more sinister. A deep, rumbling voice confirmed his fears.

Chututlu’s voice echoed within Emery’s mind.

The dracolich’s roar pierced the air like a death knell, its icy resonance carrying both power and despair. The shimmering walls of the Eternal Prison fractured under the sheer force of its cry, shards of distorted space collapsing like fragile glass. Tolaro’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he raised his hand in a silent command.

The massive dracolich shifted, its serpentine body gliding with an eerie grace. The bone plates along its spine clattered like a grotesque symphony as it turned its hollow gaze toward the heap of slain captives.

With a guttural growl, the beast reared its skeletal head and exhaled. A torrent of cold, blue flames erupted from its maw, surging over the lifeless bodies scattered across the battlefield. The flames licked at the corpses, not consuming them but infusing them with a ghastly energy.

Emery’s heart sank as he watched the grisly scene unfold. The bodies, once motionless in death, began to twitch and convulse. Veins of dark frost spread across their skin, which turned an ashen blue. Their limbs jerked unnaturally, twisting and snapping as they rose to their feet. Empty eye sockets flared to life with the same unholy blue glow that burned within the dracolich’s skull.

“It’s the Law of Death,” Rhyze whispered, his voice trembling with both fear and realization. His gaze remained fixed on the undead abominations before them. “He can turn the dead into his soldiers.”