Earth's Greatest Magus
Chapter 2595 2595: Break In

The Northstar Stronghold loomed in the distance, nestled in a jagged valley framed by three towering mountains like sentinels watching over the last bastion of resistance. The mountainous terrain offered natural defense, but the fury of the war pressed even the strongest walls.

As the Pardera ship blazed through the sky, its runes aglow and engines roaring with magical energy, Emery stood at the helm and swept his divine sense across the battlefield ahead. With VIA's assistance, a swarm of precise calculations flooded his mind.

Over fifty thousand enemy combatants swarmed the valley like an infestation. The defenders, vastly outnumbered ten to one, held their ground atop the stronghold walls with brutal efficiency.

Only the quality of the garrison kept them standing. Most of the enemy were low-magus-realm barbarians—brute strength and primal magic—but no match for the stronghold's high-tier magical turrets. Those enchantments rained death in synchronized bursts, melting flesh and bone with arcane fire, holding the tide at bay.

Yet, as always in battles of this scale, it wasn't numbers alone that decided the victor. It was the presence of the powerful—the cosmic-level combatants.

Emery's divine sense twitched as it locked onto more than a hundred cosmic signatures clashing amidst the chaos. He couldn't confirm which side each belonged to, but at least ten of them were at the level of Three-Cosmos Grand Magus. No supreme aura. That explained why the stronghold still stood.

But their arrival—this single sky-borne vessel carrying three hundred elite—was enough to tip the scales.

The defenders roared with renewed hope.

"Reinforcements!" someone screamed from the wall. "We are saved!"

Morale surged across the battlefield as the massive Pardera warship crested the ridge and swept through the air above the enemy ranks like a divine beast descending from the heavens.

Though few in number, the warriors aboard it were the elite of the elite—and none more so than Commander Feil.

She launched herself from the deck without hesitation. As her form descended, she activated her battlefield domain.

A shrieking storm erupted around her. Ice and wind coalesced in a cyclone shaped like a dragon, its roar shaking the sky. The beast spiraled through the battlefield, smashing into enemy ranks. Wherever its freezing breath passed, flesh cracked and shattered like glass, steel became brittle, and magic flickered out like dying flames.

Enemy warriors tried to flee, but the domain was too wide, too fast. They were torn to pieces—limbs scattering like debris in a hurricane.

Six enemy cosmic experts intercepted her in a flash. But Feil was ready.

Their auras flared, colliding with her domain, but she twisted through them like a phantom of death. With each elegant turn, her twin daggers carved through their defenses. She reversed her grip, danced in midair, and in a blink, three of them lost their arms and two more their legs. Blood painted the sky, and the rest fell back in panic.

The ship pressed on, and the enemy fliers rose to meet it—barbarian warriors wearing rune-marked gliders and cloaks of flight. Dozens charged, fearless.

However, the ship's defense system roared to life. Runes etched along its hull pulsed, and from compartments across its frame, turrets extended. They fired rune-forged bullets with terrifying speed. The projectiles tore through the enemy ranks, embedding themselves into flesh and exploding with kinetic force. Blood mist filled the skies as bodies fell like broken birds.

Amid the chaos, Emery's senses flared with alarm.

Two figures moved through the battlefield with impossible grace, unharmed by the ship's firepower. The bullets—devastating to all others—bounced harmlessly off their bodies. They weaved through the barbarians like wraiths.

He honed in.

Three-Cosmos Grand Magus. At least. Maybe low-tier, but unmistakable in their threat.

They wore black cloaks, their aura saturated with a strange, devouring force. Emery's eyes narrowed.

Dark Magus.

The Ember Sage, Gelael, stood at the ship's bow. His body flared with cosmic flame as he launched a wall of searing fire to bar their advance. But it wasn't enough. The flames licked at their robes and dispersed harmlessly.

One of the intruders, scar-faced and brutish, laughed. His voice rumbled like broken stone. The other, pale-skinned and disturbingly handsome, let his long serpent-like tongue slip out as he sneered.

"Let's finish them before their commander returns."

Feil, now deep in the heart of enemy ranks, glanced toward them, but her path was blocked. A wall of enemy cosmic experts stood between her and the ship. She couldn't return in time.

Lord Ariel, in his borrowed young elf body, stepped forward to intervene—but a gentle hand stopped him.

It was Rosin Karat.

The old Supreme had recovered more of his strength. Emery turned to see a familiar, ancient aura returned to full bloom. With a simple motion, Rosin Karat unleashed a fraction of his power.

Both Dark Magus halted mid-flight, eyes wide.

The scarred one drew a massive black greatsword, thick and jagged. The pale one produced a spinning, bladed chakram that hummed with cursed energy. Their power flared—comet-light radiating from them both. The pressure of their combined assault made even seasoned magus aboard the ship fall to one knee.

They struck as one.

BAAMMM!!!

Their weapons screamed toward the vessel like twin meteors, a force strong enough to sunder a fortress.

Rosin Karat didn't flinch.

He lifted one hand to block the sword, the other to catch the spinning chakram mid-air.

Metal groaned. Sparks flew. For a second, it seemed the weapons might break through—

But they stopped, trapped in his grasp.

A stunned silence fell across the battlefield.

"Supreme Realm!!!"

The words escaped the lips of both enemies. They backed away in disbelief.

Before they could retreat, Rosin Karat gave a subtle gesture. The ship's turrets, infused with his power, pivoted and fired. The same bullets that once bounced harmlessly now screamed toward their targets—glowing red, rippling with amplified force.

This time, the Dark Magus bled.

Cursing, both used their life-saving techniques to escape. They vanished in blurs of black light, fleeing the battlefield.

The shock of supreme revelation rippled outward. Within moments, the enemy army began to retreat. Their commanders were gone. Morale broke, and the siege was over.