Earth's Greatest Magus

While Group Nine fought Parasite X beneath the corrupted mountains, the Alliance operation had already begun across Baeldum on eight different fronts simultaneously.

Three groups composed mostly of Magus-realm combatants supported by senior Grand Magus experts had been deployed toward the yellow-labeled cities, the regions still considered manageable. Meanwhile, five elite Grand Magus strike groups were sent toward the orange-level cities, places already slipping beyond control but not yet completely lost.

The strategy was clear.

Secure the yellow cities first.

Stabilize the orange zones.

Leave the red zones for last once the defensive lines behind them had been secured.

###

Group One had been deployed to Dravos, one of the three major cities still fortunate enough to remain labeled yellow.

The city itself remained standing.

Its walls were intact. Its defensive formations still functioned properly. The local garrison remained disciplined and organized despite exhaustion spreading throughout the ranks.

However,

Every road leading toward Dravos had become flooded with refugees fleeing ahead of the outbreak. Endless lines of civilians stretched for miles across the surrounding plains while temporary camps continued expanding around the outer districts.

The population pressure had already become catastrophic.

Dravos originally housed nearly one hundred million people. Now, millions more desperate refugees had arrived within hours, pushing the city far beyond what its infrastructure could safely contain.

Riots broke out constantly beyond the walls.

Communities fought each other for supplies and shelter while frightened civilians attempted to force entry into the city. Meanwhile, quarantine checkpoints continuously pulled infected individuals from the refugee lines, further escalating panic among the crowds.

Even after the arrival of Alliance reinforcements, the situation barely stabilized.

Group One itself consisted of thirty Grand Magus experts alongside more than three hundred Magus-realm combatants. Their arrival effectively doubled the city’s military strength overnight.

Yet somehow…

It still felt insufficient against the sheer scale of the disaster unfolding around them.

Fjolnir and the Void Wolf crew had been assigned one of the more manageable responsibilities within the city.

Their unit reinforced the defensive posts surrounding Dravos’ teleportation gate and military hangars, effectively serving as the final defensive line preventing any infected individuals from escaping through the transportation network.

Ironically, most of their work quickly became administrative rather than combat-related.

They spent more time organizing refugee screenings, checking transport manifests, and intimidating panicked civilians than actually fighting parasites.

The truth was—

None of them looked remotely suited for the role.

Between scarred faces, brutal physiques, and rough expressions, their presence often frightened civilians more than reassured them.

“We should’ve stayed in Dawnstar,” Fjolnir muttered while watching another group of screaming refugees being dragged away toward quarantine.

Nearby, both Varrek and Brollak nodded immediately in agreement.

####

Thousands of miles away, Group Two had also been assigned to one of the relatively safer regions on Baeldum.

Their destination was Maren City.

Compared to Dravos, Maren was much smaller, barely one tenth its size with an original population of roughly seven million people. Under normal circumstances, the city would have been considered prosperous enough, known for its agriculture districts and river trade routes connecting several smaller settlements nearby.

Now it was drowning beneath refugees.

During the last several days alone, the city’s population had nearly doubled as endless waves of civilians fled ahead of the spreading outbreak. Worse still, unlike the larger cities, Maren did not possess a teleportation gate capable of redistributing the population elsewhere.

People could only keep arriving.

And the city could no longer contain them.

Temporary camps stretched for miles outside the walls while smoke from thousands of campfires darkened the horizon. The roads leading toward the gates had become endless rivers of exhausted civilians carrying children, supplies, or whatever fragments of their former lives they had managed to save.

Fear hung everywhere.

Fortunately for Maren, Julian had arrived exceptionally prepared.

The Nova Roma leader brought not only his own disciplined Magus units, but also a sizable contingent of Nephilim Church support personnel. With a combination of charisma, organization, and carefully chosen promises, Julian quickly convinced the local authorities to place him in charge of one of the city’s main defensive gates.

Now he stood atop the massive gate walls overlooking the chaos below.

His red cloak fluttered lightly behind him while his confident posture alone already brought reassurance to the exhausted defenders nearby.

Outside the walls, tens of thousands of refugees had become increasingly restless.

The problem was no longer simply being denied entry into the city.

They could see the quarantine zones.

From the outer barricades, frightened civilians watched as more and more infected individuals were dragged into guarded camps separated from the rest of the population. Every scream, every restrained victim, every glimpse of purple corruption spreading across flesh only deepened the growing panic.

Within only one hour after Group Two’s arrival, thirty-one infected individuals had already been identified and separated from the refugee columns.

And the symptoms varied greatly.

Some displayed only the earliest stages of infection.

Others were already far worse.

Dark discoloration had spread across their joints and necks. Several infected individuals had stopped speaking coherently altogether, mumbling nonsense while twitching uncontrollably. A few had turned violent during the night and required physical restraint after attacking guards and nearby civilians.

This was the true danger threatening Maren.

Fortunately, Julian had anticipated exactly this scenario.

Among the fifty Magus-realm combatants he personally brought, ten were fully trained Papal Church priests. Each carried purification artifacts, holy relics, and specialized cleansing spells capable of suppressing or even curing early-stage infections.

The effect was immediate.

Golden holy light repeatedly illuminated the refugee camps as priests purified infected civilians before massive crowds. Those successfully healed collapsed crying while their families knelt in gratitude.

The displays quickly spread hope throughout the camps.

Fear slowly transformed into belief.

Rumors of miracles spread faster than panic itself.

Meanwhile, Poseidon and Guskov coordinated rapidly with the local military forces. Defensive formations were expanded while additional walls and barricades were constructed around quarantine sectors to prevent sudden outbreaks from reaching the main city.

Unlike many others overwhelmed by the scale of the disaster—

Julian remained completely composed.

Standing atop the walls while watching the increasingly organized refugee camps below, the Nova Roma leader could already see the opportunity hidden beneath the chaos.

Merits.

Influence.

Reputation.

Every successful action here would strengthen not only himself, but the growing prestige of Nova Roma across Sector Thirteen.

###

The situation within the orange-labeled cities was significantly worse.

Group Five had been deployed to Solrath, a major trading city located deep within Baeldum’s eastern interior. Before the outbreak, the city had been known as one of the planet’s busiest commercial hubs, filled with merchant guilds, caravan routes, and massive warehouse districts that connected several neighboring regions.

Now nearly half the city was gone.

Unlike the yellow-labeled cities that still retained some level of order, Solrath had already passed beyond the containment stage before the Alliance operation even began. Entire outer districts had fallen during the early days of the outbreak. The city’s cultivators had been forced to retreat repeatedly until they finally established a defensive perimeter around the central quarters.

And even that line continued shrinking every day.

Beyond the defensive barriers, the infected masses only continued growing larger.

Group Five itself consisted of twenty Grand Magus experts, nearly half of them at the two-cosmos realm, led by a peak two cosmos magus alliance commander.

Separated into small team of four, Morgana entered the city alongside one of the western reinforcement divisions.

Entire sections of the outer districts had already been abandoned.

Smoke drifted endlessly between ruined buildings while fires still burned unchecked throughout collapsed streets. Barricades made from overturned wagons, broken carts, and shattered stone littered the roads where desperate civilians had once tried to slow the infected advance.

What awaited them inside the defensive perimeter was hardly reassuring.

The defenders looked exhausted beyond words.

Many had been fighting continuously for nearly a week. The smell of blood, smoke, and medicinal herbs lingered heavily throughout the defensive camps.

Morgana’s assigned unit quickly moved toward the western line where the pressure remained highest.

The enemies gathering outside the perimeter were no longer merely parasite hounds.

Most were infected civilians already beyond saving.

They wandered through the ruined streets in massive shambling groups, drawn instinctively toward sound, movement, and spiritual fluctuations. Their faces had become dull and empty while corrupted flesh twitched unnaturally beneath cracked skin.

One elderly infected woman still clutched a small basket of bread against her chest while stumbling forward mindlessly through the smoke-filled streets.

The sight disturbed even experienced cultivators.

Morgana herself remained calm throughout it all.

Soon, she encountered a group of infected high-level cultivators, most likely members of the factions stationed within the city.

Her dark flames moved like flowing tides through the streets below, carving clean paths through the advancing infected while completely incinerating corrupted flesh into ash before it could spread further contamination.

Yet she spoke very little beyond what was necessary.

Part of her attention remained waiting patiently for Emery to contact her through the Khaos connection.

####

Elsewhere, a spatial rift opened on the outskirts of a red-labeled city.

Anderson stepped through first, his powerful aura already spreading outward cautiously as he scanned the surroundings. Behind him came the Sword Demoness, followed by Archbishop Saint Stephen. Hubert entered next, while Emery stepped through last.

This was no longer merely a support team, but a balanced elite strike group prepared for the worst possible scenario.

All five arrived fully prepared for battle.

Yet what greeted them was not chaos.

Not screams.

Not hordes of infected.

Only silence.

An empty dead city.

Thank you for reading