Earth's Greatest Magus

"The elves' forces have made their move!!"

A voice rang out, hurried and urgent, as one of the Magus in charge of communications rushed into the Citadel City command center, sweat beading on his forehead.

General Wayne, surrounded by his trusted Grand Magus officers, heard the news with a calm that belied the tension in the air. "They are finally here…" he murmured to himself, eyes narrowing. Then, louder, he commanded, "Everyone, get ready!"

The officers in the room stiffened, their expressions grim but resolute. They all understood the magnitude of what was to come. This was the moment they had been preparing for—the moment when the elven forces would strike in full force, and their defenses would be tested like never before.

Among the commanding officers stood a striking figure, Miriel, the Valaryn princess. Her emerald eyes burned with concern, her voice clear and commanding. "What about the exodus?" she asked "The last batch—have they left the city yet?"

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It had been five arduous days since the first batch of civilians had been sent out of the city, each group moving in carefully timed intervals to avoid detection. The ninth batch had departed mere hours ago, and now, the final group was on the brink of their escape. All 200,000 remaining civilians had gathered near the South Gate, their faces a mix of hope and fear as they waited for the signal to move.

As the hours dragged on, a new development sent a ripple of panic through the gathered crowd. The sharp, piercing sound of an alarm echoed through the city, followed by the sight of hundreds of warriors rushing toward the South Gate. The thunder of their boots was unmistakable—it heralded the start of a siege.

As the massive gates of the Citadel began to groan shut, sealing the city from the chaos beyond, the tension among the gathered civilians reached a breaking point. Anxiety turned to panic, and the tightly packed crowd began to shift and stir like a pot about to boil over.

"No! It's been almost a week since their last attack! Why does it have to be now?!" shouted one man, his voice breaking with desperation.

"Does this mean we're not going? What will happen to us?"

"I should have joined one of the earlier batches! Why did they make me wait until now?!"

"They say this is the elves' biggest attack yet! That's why they've been evacuating us!" one whispered, his words spreading like wildfire among the crowd.

"No! My wife was in the previous batch! She's waiting for me! Please, let me out!"

The chaos wasn't limited to the civilians. Even the Magus squad leaders responsible for maintaining order among them were shaken. They stood stiff and pale, their faces betraying the fear they tried to hide. Unlike the civilians, they had a clearer understanding of the threat bearing down on the city.

Amidst the rising panic, a powerful voice rang out, cutting through the cacophony like a blade. "Do not panic!" The commanding tone turned heads toward a high-ranking officer—a Grand Magus flanked by thirty battle-ready Magus. His presence exuded an unshakable authority that seemed to steady the air itself.

"I will lead the way and break any enemy that dares stand before us!" the Grand Magus declared, his voice echoing with the power of his conviction. "Follow me, and you will be safe!"

His words seemed to breathe life into the despondent crowd. Civilians who moments ago had been on the verge of hysterics began to calm, their fears slowly replaced by cautious hope. Without hesitation, the Grand Magus took charge, his commanding presence and unyielding bravery inspiring the crowd. "No more delays! We move now!" he bellowed, leading the last batch of civilians toward their perilous escape.

The caravan barely covered 100 miles when the horizon darkened with the shapes of their enemies—a horde of orcs stretching as far as the eye could see. Tens of thousands of the brutish creatures snarled and bellowed, their massive weapons raised high as they prepared to strike.

A magus flying alongside the Grand Magus called out, his voice quivering with alarm. "Major! There are too many of them! Should we retreat?"

The Grand Magus turned, his eyes aflame with confidence and disdain. "Huh! Mindless beasts—mere obstacles in our path! Forward!"

Without further warning, his body erupted in golden radiance, his aura blazing like a sun. With an authoritative gesture, he began casting a powerful spell. Runes flickered around his hands as he invoked a Tier 8 Light spell, and a colossal beam of light erupted from his outstretched palms.

The ray scorched through the desert, vaporizing thousands of orcs in an instant and leaving behind a smoking, glassy path through their ranks. The horde roared in chaos, and the Grand Magus raised his voice above the din.

"CHARGE FORWARD!"

The thirty elite Magus accompanying him surged into action. Each wielded spells and blades with lethal precision, cutting down any orc foolish enough to get near their formation. Fireballs erupted, lightning bolts crackled, and blades glowed with destructive energy. Despite the overwhelming odds, the civilians managed to keep pace. The last batch was mostly composed of adults who had reached at least the Earth Realm stage, their physical endurance allowing them to maintain the forced march. Their faces were etched with determination, and they pushed forward, knowing the stakes of faltering here.

The Magus' relentless assault carved a path through the orcs, leaving behind a macabre trail of charred and broken bodies. Yet the horde kept coming, their sheer numbers attempting to overwhelm the defenders.

Cheers of gratitude erupted from the civilians as they ran, their spirits buoyed by the miraculous salvation. "We're so blessed! The Major saved us!" "He is Major Zoller! He's a hero!" "Thank you, Major, for helping us!" Despite the praise, Major Zoller maintained his focus, urging the group onward. However, after two hours of relentless marching and now 200 miles into their journey, their path was once again blocked. This time, the horde before them was far larger—tens of thousands of orcs, their snarls and roars echoing ominously across the plain.

Anxiety started to ripple among the magus forces. "Why is there a second blockade?! There are even more of them!" "Major! Should we turn back?!" the Magus squad leader called out, his voice tinged with desperation. Major Zoller turned sharply, his expression resolute. His words sent a chill through the group. "We can't go back! The only way to survive is forward. We must move fast—before the elves arrive!" He shouted, "Follow me!"

Once more, Zoller led the charge, his Tier 8 spells decimating the orc ranks. His Magus squad followed closely, their movements fluid and precise, weaving spells and attacks in perfect coordination. Despite their efforts, the sheer number of orcs began to wear on the defenders. The orcs were relentless, their vast numbers pressing from all directions. Slowly, gaps started to form in their formation. The civilians, once filled with hope, now found themselves caught in the chaos. Screams rang out as orcs breached the lines, targeting the most vulnerable. Blood stained the ground as the unlucky fell to the enemy's brutal strikes. "Major... please, slow down!" The desperate cries from the Magus squad leader fell on deaf ears as Major Zoller pressed forward with unwavering determination. His pace was relentless, each minute costing dozens of lives. Civilians fell to the relentless pursuit of the orcs, their cries silenced in the chaos, while the Magus warriors, tasked with protecting them, succumbed one by one. Hours passed in this deadly march until finally, the first checkpoint came into view, its distant flags a faint glimmer of hope. Yet, by this time, the toll had become staggering. Ten thousand civilians lay dead, while half of the Magus squad tasked with their protection had fallen alongside them. The Magus squad leader, visibly shaken and grief-stricken, turned to the Major. "This... this is madness! So many lives..." Major Zoller, his face cold and unyielding, offered a curt reply. "If we slowed down, even more would have died. You and your men did well. Their sacrifice was not in vain." His words were sharp and practical, yet they carried a weight that silenced further protest. As they approached the checkpoint, relief momentarily washed over the group. They had made it. For a fleeting moment, the promise of rest and safety seemed within reach. That hope was quickly dashed. The checkpoint, meant to be their sanctuary, was in ruins. The smell of blood lingered in the air, and scattered bodies painted a grim picture of the elven patrols that had overrun it. Major Zoller's sharp gaze swept the area, his voice booming with authority. "Secure the site!" With a flash of golden light, he unleashed a spirit attack, forcing the lingering elven patrols into retreat. His remaining forces quickly captured the half who stayed to fight. The captured elves were swiftly bound and interrogated.

"We will rest for 15 minutes!" Major Zoller commanded, his tone leaving no room for debate. Exhausted survivors collapsed where they stood, many gasping for air, their bodies trembling from the grueling escape. While the civilians sought a fleeting reprieve, the Major strode purposefully toward the scouts, seeking updates on the unfolding situation. What he heard next turned the tension into outright alarm. "Major! A large number of people are running toward us from the horizon!" A scout's panicked voice preceded the sight of a massive wave of tens of thousands of civilians, their faces pale with terror, rushing toward the checkpoint. "They're the ninth batch!"

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