Earth's Greatest Magus

The potions the acolytes threw were the infamous [Chututlu Bombs], one of Emery's ingenious alchemical creations. The bombs erupted upon impact, unleashing a massive wall of flames that ignited the battlefield. As the fire dissipated, it left behind a sinister, highly corrosive residue that clung to everything it touched.

"What grade is that? It's stronger than a tier 5 spell!" Magus Siiri exclaimed, her astonishment evident as she watched the destruction unfold.

Emery gave a slight nod, then calmly explained that the Chututlu Bomb was originally designed as a tier 6 potion, effective against magus-level opponents. But since the acolyte would lose points for using magus-grade items, he equipped them with the tier 5 version. More than enough to handle the orcs.

The devastation was immediate. Dozens of orcs were killed outright in the fiery explosion, their bodies either charred or melted by the acid-like residue that clung to them.

Those who survived the initial blast were left writhing in agony as the corrosive substance ate through their armor and flesh, their pained cries echoing across the desert. Even the powerful orc warchief, who had led the charge, was caught in the inferno, visibly wounded and struggling to recover.

This sight broke the orcs' momentum, their morale plummeting at the sight of their leader injured and their forces crumbling. Seizing the rare opening, Ha Ron sprang into action, his figure a dark blur as he streaked toward the wounded warchief. But multiple orc champions moved swiftly, positioning themselves in front of their leader. They roared their defiance, shields raised and weapons poised, ready to defend their chief to the death.

Unfazed, Ha Ron swung his blade, channeling his energy into a devastating [Shadow Edge]. The blade cleaved through the air, a dark arc of power slicing straight through one of the champions, splitting him cleanly in two. The force of the strike carried through, grazing the warchief with a deep, brutal cut that left blood splattering across the sand.

Despite the wound, it wasn't enough to bring the warchief down.

"Ghak'zrak uhnak!"

The warchief voice boomed over the battlefield, rallying the orcs with a fervor that ignited their rage anew. However, this time, the warchief kept his distance, refusing to risk himself further. He urged his horde forward, intending to drown the acolytes in sheer numbers rather than stepping back into the fray himself. Seeing this shift, Hardy raised his weapon high, his voice cutting through the chaos. "

Fight! Fight! Fight!" he bellowed, rallying his fellow acolytes.

Despite their initial success, the acolytes found themselves overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the orc horde. After thirty grueling minutes of battle, they had managed to eliminate only about twenty percent of the orc forces, and the relentless onslaught continued to push them back. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and burning flesh, mingling with the desperate cries of the wounded and dying.

Sergeant Vorlax glanced nervously at Emery. "They still have those potions, right? You gave them more, didn't you?!"

"They do… but those bombs are pricey. Far too costly to waste on every orc in our path" Emery let out a long, thoughtful sigh "If they had managed to kill that chief earlier, this battle could have been over by now."

"...."

They were facing a month-long campaign, and Emery knew that if his acolytes relied on the [Chututlu Bombs] in every fight, not only would they drain his resources, but they'd miss the opportunity to truly grow as warriors. Emery had instilled strict guidelines: only use the bombs at critical moments or to destabilize the enemy's morale. Their true purpose was to create enough chaos to shake the horde's unity and lower the orcs' combat prowess, not to be a crutch. The acolytes needed to learn to rely on skill and strategy, not just powerful items, if they were to survive the trials ahead. As the acolytes found themselves once again cornered by the relentless orc assault, Hardy called out another order and each acolyte reached for their storage rings, activated a hidden reserve, each releasing a creature onto the battlefield.

"Ku ku... Kuuang ku ku Kuang!!" The sound of 50 Chizpur echoed across the battlefield joining the battle.

These stone creatures, now grown to almost the size of an adult man, were third-generation Chizpur. Having undergone rigorous training at the academy, they had reached the level of high-grade magical creatures, comparable to high-stage rank 9 acolytes.

Emery had specifically tasked them to serve as protectors for the acolytes during this exam, and the moment they joined the fray, the fighting capabilities of the acolytes multiplied exponentially.

Having trained together numerous times at the academy, the acolytes quickly fell into formation alongside their Chizpur counterparts, creating a nearly impenetrable wall of defense. With the stone creatures standing resolute, the acolytes were now able to execute their attacks with greater ease, racking up kills against the stunned orc warriors.

Emery glanced over at Magus Sirri, whose expression was a mixture of surprise and admiration. He understood the underlying mechanics of the academy's guidelines and knew that the assistance of the young Chizpur creatures was still within the rules.

With a confident smile, he turned to Sirri and said, "Please count their points properly."

The battle raged on for two hours, the sun hanging low in the sky and casting long shadows across the desert. Despite having decimated nearly half of the enemy horde, the young acolytes were visibly fatigued—many of them gasping for breath, their swings slowing, and their reactions growing sluggish.

Yet, rather than retreating to regroup, Emery made a crucial decision. He permitted the acolytes to take the tier 5 recovery pills, designed to restore their health while enhancing their spirit pool regeneration. As the acolytes consumed the pills, a vibrant energy coursed through their bodies, refreshing their spirits and fortifying their resolve. They could feel their strength returning, fueling their desire to continue the fight for a few more hours.

Magus Sirri, watching from the sidelines, shook her head in disapproval. "It's unwise to push them this hard," she muttered. "You should pull them back and let them fight another day."

Emery acknowledged her concerns; he understood that constant reliance on potions and pills could have lasting effects, particularly for acolytes who hadn't yet undergone a full magus transformation. Natural healing was preferable, especially in the long run. But Emery had his reasons for keeping them in this prolonged fight.

Minutes later, the reasoning behind his decision became evident.

"They are here," Emery announced, as he focused his divine sense on the horizon.

A subtle shift in the air accompanied the revelation, their figures emerging over the dunes in disciplined formations. The dark elves force approaches the battlefield. 𝔯𝐀𝐍o͍𝐁Ěs̩

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