Dark Magus Returns

Chapter 1503: The Dark Strike

Out of all the Grand Magus, Enaxx had always been the most prominent. He was the poster boy, the face of the order, traveling from city to city, smiling before cameras, delivering speeches, reassuring Alterian that the Grand Magus existed to safeguard their world.

To Ibarin, however, that was not what he saw. To him, Enaxx had always been Idore’s obedient lapdog.

Officially, the Grand Magus were equals, five pillars of magical authority. But everyone inside the circle knew the truth. Idore was the real power. The one who had proposed the very creation of the Grand Magus, the mastermind behind nearly every act, every manipulation, every crime disguised as order.

And the two people Idore used most were Enaxx and Gizin.

Through rumor and whispers, Ibarin had learned much. Enaxx was always sent to "deal" with situations, the man chosen when Idore needed a task done decisively. Ibarin never said it aloud, but he knew: Enaxx was Idore’s executioner.

What had truly unsettled him, though, was the visit. One of the other Grand Magus had come to Ibarin privately, asking if he had seen Enaxx. That in itself was absurd. Shouldn’t Idore, of all people, know where his lapdog was? Why was the question being passed to him?

At first, Ibarin told himself Enaxx must simply be on assignment, perhaps delayed. But now... now the same question was being asked again, not by a fellow Grand Magus, but by this boy, this white-haired student standing before him, this boy who called himself the Dark Magus.

And that was far worse.

"I’ll give you an answer," Raze said, his voice steady, cold. "Your brain was always a little slower than mine. Or maybe," he smiled faintly, "maybe it’s just that in this new body, I can think even clearer than before."

Raze raised his hand, his words cutting through the still-frozen silence of time itself.

"The answer is that Enaxx is dead. And I can assure you of this truth... because I killed him. With my own two hands."

The words sank like iron into Ibarin’s chest. His breath hitched. His mind rebelled, spinning.

Impossible.

Enaxx was one of them. A nine-star mage. A force powerful enough to crush armies. If what this boy was saying was true, if Enaxx had been slain, then everything Ibarin thought he understood about the balance of power had just shattered.

And yet... wasn’t there something in the boy’s eyes that told him he wasn’t lying?

The thought twirled inside Ibarin’s head like a storm, pounding at his temples. What if Raze was telling the truth? What if all of it, his accusations, his revelations, his impossible survival, was real?

There was only one scrap of comfort for Ibarin to cling to: the boy’s magic seemed weaker than before.

The Dark Magus had earned his name not only because of the darkness he wielded but because of the duels he had survived. There had been rumors that he could stand against the Grand Magus themselves. The public had painted him as a demon who walked among men, but those who had truly fought him knew that his victories had not been so simple.

There had always been interference. Other factions. Other Grand Magus. Interwoven conflicts that kept the scales balanced.

But now? Now this boy claimed to be only seven-star. If that was the truth, then how had he slain Enaxx? How could such a thing possibly be real?

"I think that’s enough talk," Raze said, his voice sharp, cutting through Ibarin’s spiral. "It’s not as though I enjoy wasting words on you. And besides..." His fingers curled, trembling slightly with the strain of holding the timestream in place. "Keeping up this magic is tiring."

He lowered his gaze, and his next words carried a weight that shook the frozen air around them.

"In the first place, I only have one goal. I’m going to kill you, Ibarin. Then I’ll hunt down the others. One by one. Until none of the Grand Magus remain."

Before Ibarin could respond, Raze lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. The world lurched. Time flooded back into motion.

The air stirred again. The cheers of the crowd roared back, filling the arena as though nothing had happened. And yet, those who were sensitive, mages with keen instincts, spectators who felt mana ripple in their bones, they knew. Something had changed. Something monumental had just passed unseen.

"What is it?" Alen whispered from the stands, his eyes narrowing on Raze. "His face... the look in his eyes. Did you do something, Raze?"

"You... you..." Ibarin’s voice broke, trembling with fury as his composure cracked. His hands stretched outward, mana boiling.

Dozens of wind orbs erupted around him, floating like deadly stars, circling in the air. Then, with both hands weaving, he began to feed them.

Lightning crackled into one orb, fire into another. Water hissed and churned in a third. Soon, dozens of spheres gleamed with multicolored light, each one brimming with condensed elemental force. Some even held multiple affinities, unstable fusions of power that twisted and warped in brilliant, terrifying arrays.

The crowd gasped. Even the staff paled.

"What do we do?" one cried.

"This..." another whispered, their face white with fear. "This attack, this is the Grand Magus at full force. Each of those orbs holds power at the nine-star level. Even if all of us combined our mana, we couldn’t hope to stop it!"

Panic rippled through the ranks. Because the truth was clear: Ibarin no longer cared about appearances, about the stage, about the academy. He cared only about one thing, obliterating the boy before him.

"DIE, YOU SCUM!" Ibarin roared, his voice booming across the coliseum.

A hurricane of wind erupted from his hands, hurling forward all fifty orbs at once. Lightning screamed. Fire howled. Water tore apart the air. A rainbow storm of destruction bore down upon Raze, enough magic to erase the arena entirely.

The sword alone would not be enough. Simply cutting would not suffice.

And Raze did not want to rely solely on borrowed power. Not here. Not now.

Slowly, he raised his weapon. Dark magic crawled up the blade, coating the steel until it gleamed like obsidian. His grip tightened. His second hand clasped the hilt.

"Everything I went through..." Raze whispered, his voice rising above the roar of destruction. "...was for today!"

His Qi surged. His mana ignited. Dark magic coiled around the weapon like a storm given form. The crowd shielded their eyes as the weapon bled lightless flame.

"The Dark Edge Sword Arts..." Raze declared, his voice echoing across the stadium. "Second Formation, ECLIPSE STRIKE!"

****

*****

For updates for MWS and future works, please follow me on my social media below.

Instagram: Jksmanga

*Patreon: jksmanga

When news of MVS, MWS, or any other series comes out, you will be able to see it there first, and you can reach out to me. If I’m not too busy, I tend to reply.