Heir of Synthesis: The World Mage

”Massacre every last one of them!” Flaris roared at the front of the troops.

An unrelenting storm of arrows, blades, and devastating spells rained continuously upon the areas with the highest concentration of enemies, allowing for precise covering fire without putting their own allies’ lives at risk.

The main army — the 150,000 soldiers trained directly under Priam’s command — acted as the sharp blade and impenetrable shield of this war.

Perfectly coordinated and completely fearless in the face of death, they proved even more ruthless and merciless than the Sorcerers themselves. The sight of that vanguard carving its way through the enemy ranks made the blood of their opponents run cold.

The troops from the other sects watched in awe. Faced with such flawless group tactics, their confidence was restored; they quickly integrated into the formation, covering the rear and providing support wherever they could.

But the true spectacle on the battlefield — beyond the perfect synchronization of offense and defense — belonged to the Holy Mages. The specialists of Priam’s faction took the lead, coordinating the other Mages of the same class with masterful skill.

Far from being helpless targets, they marched straight toward the front lines. While one group raised impenetrable holy barriers to shield the soldiers, the other channeled regeneration spells so powerful that they could drag seriously wounded warriors back from the brink of death within seconds. It was the support any army could dream of.

At the eye of the storm, hundreds of Arcanists, Fighters, and Physical Mages from Priam’s main faction moved like giants crushing insects. Having received advanced knowledge of their classes directly from Priam, each of them had mastered the pinnacle of their respective roles, pushing their destructive capabilities to the extreme.

High above, the Elders from the other branches of the sects watched everything in utter astonishment. In any branch, any one of those outstanding Mages would have been revered as a rare Supreme Genius.

And yet... they were merely ordinary disciples of Priam’s faction in the 11th Branch. The mere existence of such a force bordered on absurdity.

”NOOO! AAAAAARGH!”

**BANG!**

Inside the dome, shrill screams of agony and visceral explosions of flesh echoed without pause.

The powerful Sorcerers fighting in the skies, whenever they cast their senses toward the ground, found themselves on the verge of insanity.

The legendary Celestials were being crushed, roaring in despair as they died miserable deaths. The ordinary Sages were even more pitiful. They had reached the point of feeling sorry for the dying.

They were all beaten and crushed like helpless children. Priam couldn’t eliminate them instantly because of the sheer number of targets and the need to maintain tactical control, but he hunted them down and killed them one by one, methodically.

Faced with that surgical coldness, the Sorcerers felt an uncomfortable chill: Priam seemed like a far more terrifying monster than any of them.

”What the fuck is this?! Someone tell me what the hell is happening down there?!” Shakwi roared, his voice choked with shock.

The Sorcerers around him trembled in silence. No one dared answer. If they weren’t witnessing the massacre with their own eyes and senses, they would never have believed it.

The supreme elite sent to annihilate the Ironweald Sect was being eradicated like cattle; the enemy contingent was collapsing at an alarming rate.

”GUAAAAARGH!”

**BANG!**

Unlike Dandara’s relatively discreet battle against the Celestial, Priam’s assault was a spectacular bloodbath.

Priam did this deliberately. Whenever he was about to execute an enemy, he dragged them toward the edge of the barrier, allowing the poor figure to release one final terrified scream before being disintegrated in full view of everyone.

The psychological warfare tactic had a devastating effect on the army’s morale.

”MASSACRE!”

”MASSACRE!”

”MASSACRE!”

The army’s roar reverberated through the valleys. With bloodshot eyes filled with a blazing thirst for vengeance — remembering every family member and companion who had fallen at the hands of the Sorcerers — the soldiers charged forward with uncontrollable fury.

This was the moment of revenge they had always dreamed of, but never thought would come so soon. Everyone born in the southern region of the Divine Plane knew what it was like to feel the pain of losing someone at the hands of these Sorcerers.

Only one hour had passed since Priam’s arrival on the planet.

In that short span of time, the enemy army had already been reduced to a mere third of its original strength. This overwhelming massacre had been driven by the supremacy of the Mage Masters in Priam’s faction and the flawless command of the six generals.

Minutes passed beneath the sound of deafening explosions echoing in every direction.

The carnage on the ground began to wear down the morale of the powerful figures in the skies. For the Sorcerers, being defeated in that battle represented not only unprecedented humiliation, but also the absolute collapse of all the plans made by their higher-ups.

Sensing the enemy wavering, Mishnar and the veterans intensified the pace of their attacks, opening deep wounds in their opponents.

Meanwhile, inside the barrier...

”AAAAAH!”

**BANG!**

With one final devastating blow, Priam’s last opponent was reduced to nothing.

Priam landed softly on the ground, completely unharmed and exuding a serene aura, as if he had just finished a simple warm-up.

He hadn’t spent a single drop of Ether. He had merely pushed his Elemental Physique to its limit and thrown every punch with 100% of his strength, burning energy without hesitation. With every kill, he absorbed the corruption from the corpse and restored his reserves to their maximum.

Celestials were, by nature, foolish and arrogant figures, addicted to the safety of their supposedly infinite regeneration. They fought with raw power, but were riddled with glaring openings, showing little concern for defense.

Against ordinary Mages or other Celestials, that fighting style could even be effective. But against Priam, they looked like nothing more than clumsy clowns.

With only a few exchanges of blows, Priam mutilated them and ripped out their Celestial Marks, sealing their deaths permanently. As a result, this battle had been far easier than he expected.

Of course... all of this had only been possible because he wasn’t alone. Without his vice-leader, his entire plan would have failed completely.

Priam took a deep breath. Fighting like this was undeniably satisfying, but he made a mental note to never let arrogance get to his head.

Absorbing the corruption of the last executed Celestial, he turned toward the edge of the barrier.

As he approached the duel between Dandara and the Veteran Acquired Celestial, he witnessed a rain of frantic collisions.

Their blades clashed without pause, shaking the atmosphere and sending shockwaves that made the air crack.

However, Priam immediately noticed that Dandara’s miasma had been reduced to a mere 10%.

The status of an ordinary Mage was still a hard ceiling for her. Facing a Celestial capable of continuous regeneration and wielding anomalous power came at far too high a cost in terms of stamina.

Dandara wouldn’t be able to defeat him.

But winning alone had never been her intention.

Dandara made a clean leap backward, creating some distance.

”The Boss finally made it...” she murmured, breathing heavily, but with determination shining in her eyes.

Priam slowly nodded.

”Our time is running out. Let’s finish this bastard together.”

Dandara smiled faintly as the daggers in her hands gleamed with a cold, razor-sharp aura.

For the first time, she felt that she was truly on equal footing with him, able to fight side by side with him.