Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2772: Betrayal

Several minutes earlier—on the other side of the tomb.

A vast hall lay silent beneath layers of ancient stone. Its beauty was unmistakable: towering metal pillars, a central altar sculpted from radiant alloys, and twelve unique torches mounted on the walls.

Each flame burned with a steady blue-white glow, fed by runic crystals that hummed softly, illuminating the carved murals across the walls. Scenes of invention, battle, and triumph—each panel recounting the life of Randhall the Machinist, a legend whose mastery shaped an era.

This was his crypt. His final resting place.

But the quiet reverence of the chamber had been shattered.

In the center of the hall stood Julian, Poseidon, and six Nova Roma knights and specialists—surrounded on all sides. Weapons drawn. Muscles tense. Their breathing filled the space between pulses of glowing runes.

Encircling them were Dravic, the grand magus formation master and his four assistants. Massive restraining sigils were already etched across the entire floor, binding Julian’s group with invisible chains of force. The air was thick with tension—and betrayal.

The cause hovered above the altar: five radiant artifacts, each gleaming with unmistakable tier-7 brilliance. Randhall’s hammer. His armor. Three enigmatic tools whose functions were unclear, but whose auras screamed unmatched craftsmanship.

When the group first arrived minutes earlier, Dravic had calmly suggested forming a securing array—"to prevent triggering any traps," he claimed. But while everyone cooperated, the formation master constructed a hidden restraining array meant to bind the Nova Roma team the moment they stepped too close.

Now the trap had sprung.

Julian’s body strained under the invisible weight, as if titan chains wrapped his limbs. But his mind remained sharp. His glare locked onto Dravic, who stood just beyond the binding circle, a smug smile carved across his face.

"Is this really what you want?" Julian asked, voice steady. "Refusing to share these treasures as we agreed?"

Dravic’s lips curled into a triumphant smile.

"Hah! And why should I share anything with you? You—" he jabbed a finger toward Julian, "are nothing but a newly formed Grade one faction. We, the Volkov, are the true descendants of Randhall’s line. These treasures belong to us!"

Julian didn’t flinch. "Don’t insult my intelligence. I did my research. Yes, the Volkov descend from Randhall—but from the branch that betrayed the main family and slaughtered them all!."

Dravic’s face twitched, but he masked it with a scoff. "Minor details."

He stepped closer to the altar, eyes gleaming feverishly at the five floating artifacts. Greed practically radiated from him.

"Think carefully, Dravic. Many know of our cooperation. Even my master waits outside the tomb. If you move against us, your entire faction will be held responsible."

Dravic barked a laugh. "I wouldn’t risk everything for one or two artifacts—but for five?" His grin stretched unnaturally wide. "With these, I can rebuild my faction from the ground up. I can rise higher than any ancestor ever dreamed."

He pointed at Julian, eyes blazing.

"Blame yourself for this—your stupidity, your naïveté!"

But Julian only grew calmer, almost amused.

"You really believe you can get away with this aren’t you?"

Dravic’s laughter echoed against the metal walls.

"Of course! By now, one of your teams has already been wiped out by Vashka. And your strongest fighter?" He sneered. "He’s busy elsewhere. Once I kill you, no one will stand in my way. With these artifacts, even a two-cosmos magus won’t frighten me!"

Julian’s lips curled—not in fear, but in amusement.

"Did you hear all that?" he said calmly, raising his voice. "You may come out now."

Dravic froze.

A faint set of footsteps echoed from the far end of the hall—three sets—and then three silhouettes emerged through the torchlight.

Casiel, the Seraph, Athena, and last—Guskov, the Koskov grand magus canon master.

Dravic’s face drained of color.

"Guskov!! What is the meaning of this?! Why are they here?!"

The bearded cannoneer looked at him with obvious disappointment.

"Cousin... so it is true. You would risk everything we have built—throw away our future for this... Your greed will destroy us all."

"You!" Dravic screamed. "Traitor! What deal did you make with Nova Roma?! What lies did they feed you?!"

Guskov aim his finger at the formation master in reply "And you—cousin! You’re colluding with these outsiders too? And that witch?! Have you lost your minds?!"

Confusion and panic swirled around the hall, but Julian did not waste the opening.

"Now!"

Like twin streaks of divine light, the Casiel and Athena lunged forward. Their combined assault tore through the ring of formation assistants—two screamed as their defensive inscriptions shattered under the force. The grand magus formation master barely managed to slip away, but the damage was done.

The runes imprisoning Julian and the Nova Roma knights flickered, cracked—then burst apart in a shower of light.

Julian exhaled sharply. "Formation’s down."

With Casiel’s radiant wings unfurled beside him, the balance of power shifted instantly. The Volkov formation team hesitated, their advantage gone. Yet Dravic’s eyes did not waver. He clenched his jaw, refusing to back down.

He only needed time. Just enough for Vashka to finally arrive.

When the two groups were about to clash, Dravic gaze darted toward the hovering treasures—specifically, the tier-7 hammer spinning slowly above the altar.

Greed overtook caution.

This was his chance.

Dravic lunged.

"Don’t!" the formation master barked, realization flashing too late.

Dravic’s fingers closed around the hammer’s handle.

Then the tomb roared.

A violent tremor ripped through the hall. The engraved altar shook, the metal beneath cracking open in a shower of sparks. With a grinding scream of gears, the entire altar separated—revealing a massive, sealed metallic coffin hidden beneath.

The coffin rose from its cradle, steam hissing from its joints. Its surface was covered in sacred machinist sigils, glowing one by one as the ancient construct powered on.

THUD.

The lid burst open.

From within emerged a towering white golem, its crystalline frame threaded with radiant golden lines pulsing like veins. Power rolled off it in suffocating waves as its eyes open.

The guardian has awaken.