Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2644: Grand Magus Battle

Morgana had waited long enough. Through duel after duel, she’d kept her composure, holding back her wrath, her need to intervene. But now it was her turn. Her crimson gaze burned as she stepped into the arena, and a suffocating pressure rippled through the entire coliseum.

Across from her stood Kronos, fully restored, his armor glistening, his power undeniable. Yet beneath the divine calm was a crack of irritation. He had been played. A god of his stature, manipulated by mortals he once considered dust.

He let out a slow, disdainful breath. "No matter how many tricks you throw at me, the result will be the same. None of you can defeat me."

Morgana didn’t respond with words.

She raised both palms, and flames erupted. Not ordinary fire, but one filled with the power of the cosmos, the signature of a Grand Magus realm. The spectators roared, startled by the reveal. The Earth faction had finally unleashed their strongest.

Kronos sneered. "Hmph. Just how recently did you break through?...barely a kid..."

But Morgana wasn’t done.

With a subtle motion of her fingers, the cosmic fire shifted—its vibrant light darkening into a black-violet hue, deeper than night. Another power fused into the flame:

Khaos.

The two energies merged, spiraling together in a perfect storm of celestial order and abyssal entropy. The entire battlefield seemed to tighten.

On the scoreboard, Earth now held eight victories to Kronos faction’s seven. Both had one warrior left. Yet with Emery still unseen and Kronos’s camp devoid of any other Grand Magus, both sides knew the truth:

This duel would decide it all.

Tension gripped the coliseum.

Hermes, normally jovial, stood somberly as he raised his hand. Even his divine visage couldn’t hide the concern tightening his features.

He looked between the two combatants and called out:

"Let the duel begin."

This time, it was Kronos who moved first.

Without hesitation, he lifted his hand and invoked a spell familiar to those who had watched him dominate his previous opponents:

[Temporal Rift Cascade]

The space around him fractured with a metallic screech, light splitting in unnatural directions. From the folds of time, two phantoms emerged—perfect replicas of Kronos himself, each wielding identical scythes and cloaked in divine aura. They were manifestations from alternate timelines, each revealing Kronos’s full might. ṟα𐌽ȏ𝔟Е𝐒

Spectators roared at the spectacle, but the sharpest minds among them noticed something beneath the display.

This was no longer the arrogant god from before. He was calculating, wary of his opponent’s power. The phantoms weren’t just to overwhelm Morgana—they were sent to measure her.

Unlike the calculative Julian, Morgana didn’t strategize or overthink. No matter the numbers, no matter the strength of her opponents—she would face them all head-on.

She raised her arms and unleashed her fury.

[Hell Flame].

A swirling torrent of dark fire exploded outward, rushing like a dragon unleashed. The sheer heat bent the arena’s protective barriers. The flames roared into the two phantoms, halting their charge.

The crowd gasped.

This was no ordinary spell. Hell Flame, despite its high grade, was a Tier 6 Magus spell. But under Morgana’s command, it roared with the force of a Tier 7 or even higher, pushing the phantom Grand Magus back several paces.

Kronos scowled.

"Not bad..." he muttered. Then he raised his voice. "But I’m not impressed!"

With that, the phantoms surged forward again, this time channeling raw cosmic energy into their blades. The scythes glowed with starlight and cut clean through the sea of flame. The inferno split apart, revealing Morgana beyond.

But what they found beyond the flames stunned them.

Still standing. Still unfazed.

But she had changed.

From amid the dissipating hellfire, a new silhouette emerged.

Dark fur crept across Morgana’s shoulders and down her arms, each strand shimmering like obsidian glass. Muscles rippling beneath midnight skin. She threw her head back and howled—a sound that shook every soul watching. On her arms, forehead, and the ridges beneath her eyes, crimson runes ignited one by one, forming a lattice of ancient sigils.

Jagged shards of crystallized fur armored her forearms, ending in razor talons that hissed with residual flame. Every breath she exhaled came out as black‑violet fire, searing the ground beneath her feet.

The two phantom Kronoses attacked in unison, scythes carving arcs of starlight.

Morgana didn’t retreat. She met the attack head-on, crossing her clawed arms.

BOOOOM!

The collision sent a violent shockwave that rattled the arena walls. A plume of smoke erupted, debris spraying in every direction. When it cleared, Morgana stood untouched, dark flames licking across her frame.

Gasps rippled through the stands.

"She’s a halfblood!"

"A Grand Magus-tier halfblood? That power... it must be a mythical gene!"

What followed was a breathtaking clash. Two veteran Grand Magus against a young female halfblood. Scythes spun through the air like wheels of fate, colliding with feral strikes and waves of cosmic fire. Her movements were fluid yet brutal, merging martial precision with magical chaos.

And she held her ground.

The real Kronos observed with a chilling calm. The god of time didn’t merely watch—he measured.

He scoffed.

"A half-blood does have a dominating physique," Kronos muttered. "But can you fight the flow of time itself?"

And with that whisper, he moved in.

The real Kronos joined the battle, not with sound, but with a ripple. Reality bent. His strike wasn’t just fast—it was out of sequence. Covered in waves of temporal distortion, his scythe warped the air itself, an attack that his phantoms could not show.

Even in her enhanced state, Morgana couldn’t react in time. Her claws slashed through a silhouette—an afterimage already displaced—while the real blade passed cleanly through.

SPLAATT!!

A searing arc split open her shoulder. Blood sprayed like molten fire as Kronos’s scythe carved a perfect, soundless curve through her flesh.

Pain exploded across her body, staggering her, breaking her rhythm for a breathless instant.

The two phantoms dove in, scythes raised high, eager to capitalize on her moment of weakness.

But Morgana was not finished.

She exhaled.

And then, she whispered one word.

"Killgragah."