Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2797: Blood and Sand

The Dawnstar Colosseum thundered with life.

A roaring tide of voices surged beneath the open sky as tens of thousands of citizens filled the grand arena, their cheers crashing against the stone walls like rolling waves. This was not merely entertainment—it was ritual. A weekly indulgence woven into the city’s identity.

The seating rose in vast, concentric tiers. At the lowest levels, commoners packed shoulder to shoulder, their faces flushed with excitement. Above them sat merchants, minor clan leaders, and low-ranking officials, draped in silk and jewelry. Higher still were the noble balconies, guarded and discreet. And overlooking everything, elevated like a throne above the battlefield itself, stood the VIP stage—lavish, enchanted, and unmistakably dominant.

At its center, a stout dwarf lifted a shimmering artifact etched with amplification runes. His voice boomed across the colosseum, impossibly loud yet perfectly clear.

"WELCOME, CITIZENS OF DAWNSTAR! TO THIS WEEK’S DAWN GAMES!"

The crowd erupted.

"AND FIRST—LET US OFFER OUR GREATEST RESPECT TO OUR BELOVED PREFECT! LORD GERARDY DAWN!"

A corpulent man in ornate crimson robes rose from his seat, grease still glistening on his fingers as he held a half-eaten slab of roasted meat. He raised one hand in acknowledgment, smiling broadly at the sea of faces.

The applause was... polite. Dutiful.

Still, Lord Gerardy Dawn looked pleased as he settled back into his enchanted chair.

The eldest prince of the Red Dawn faction. Ruler of Dawnstar. A man whose authority rested less on love and more on debt and fear.

He turned toward the silver-haired man seated beside him, whose posture was straight, his expression composed and unreadable.

"So," Gerardy said lazily, wiping his fingers on a silk cloth, "is there anything worth watching today?"

The silver-haired man inclined his head slightly. "Yes, my lord. Today’s opening match includes a special offering—from the newly established Immortal Gladiator School."

Gerardy’s interest flickered. His gaze shifted down the VIP row.

A beautiful woman rose smoothly from her seat several chairs away. She bowed with practiced elegance.

"Lord Prefect," she said clearly, "I am Gwen, acting Lanista of the Immortal Gladiator School. We have prepared our tribute for today’s games."

Gerardy’s eyes lingered on her longer than necessary. His smile widened.

"If it pleases me," he said, "your school will be well rewarded."

"Thank you, my lord," Gwen replied, unflinching.

The dwarf MC slammed his staff against the stone.

"LET THE OPENING MATCH BEGIN!"

Massive iron gates groaned open along the arena floor.

Thirty gladiators burst forth in unison, boots striking the sand with disciplined precision. Every one of them stood firmly within the Magus Realm. Their physiques were honed, scarred, and battle-tested. Heavy shields locked into position, spearpoints glinted beneath the arena lights, and spell-inscribed weapons hummed faintly with restrained power. They did not shout. They did not posture. Their eyes were cold, focused—predators stepping onto familiar ground.

The crowd roared their approval.

"AND NOW—LET US UNLEASH THE BEAST!"

The dwarf’s voice rose again, and the arena floor trembled.

A sharp crack split the center of the battlefield as ancient mechanisms awakened beneath the sand. Stone plates pulled apart, revealing a descending shaft from which shrill screeches and guttural growls echoed upward, reverberating through the colosseum.

A massive platform rose slowly from the depths.

Upon it stood five colossal beasts.

They resembled tigers. Their hides were dark as obsidian, layered with natural armor that caught the light like polished stone. Along their spines writhed thick, whip-like tendrils tipped with barbed hooks, each one moving independently, tasting the air. Their eyes burned with feral intelligence and unrestrained hunger.

"Voidhide Rending Tigers," the dwarf announced dramatically. "ALL ANCIENT DESOLATE BEASTS!"

A ripple of shock spread through the knowledgeable spectators.

Ancient Desolate Beasts were not mere monsters; each possessed strength rivaling that of a peak Full Moon Magus—creatures capable of annihilating unprepared squads within moments

Gasps followed. Fear followed faster.

Even among the VIP seats, several figures straightened in surprise. It was rare—almost unheard of—to deploy such beasts during an opening match. Such creatures were usually reserved for the climax of the games, when bloodlust was already at its peak.

The silver-haired man beside Lord Gerardy spoke calmly, his voice carrying authority rather than excitement.

"These specimens were captured recently," he explained. "We deemed them... appropriate for today’s exhibition."

Lord Gerardy burst into laughter, clearly delighted."Hahaha! Very interesting indeed."

But not everyone shared his enthusiasm.

Whispers spread across the VIP platform, sharp and merciless.

"Those gladiators are finished."

"An opening match against Voidhide Tigers?"

"That woman’s school won’t survive the week."

Many eyes drifted toward Gwen, some filled with pity, others with thinly veiled amusement. In Dawnstar, the arena was not about heroics—it was about spectacle. Blood. Death. Screams echoing against stone.

Most had already decided the outcome.

The beasts lowered their massive heads and roared, the sound shaking dust from the upper tiers.

The sand beneath their claws cracked.

The slaughter, everyone believed, was about to begin.

When the battle finally began, the outcome unfolded in a way no one had anticipated.

Instead of charging recklessly, the thirty gladiators split with practiced precision. They broke into six compact units of five, each formation moving like a single organism. Two warriors in each group advanced with heavy shields interlocked, forming a mobile bulwark. Behind them, two spear-wielders took measured steps, striking only when openings appeared. The fifth member hung back—either drawing a bow etched with runes or weaving restrained spellcraft, carefully timed rather than unleashed in haste.

The arena fell into stunned silence.

This was not the chaos the audience had paid for.

The Voidhide Rending Tigers lunged, tendrils whipping forward with murderous force, but each charge met reinforced shields and disciplined counters. When one group pressed forward, another rotated seamlessly into defense. The six formations flowed around the beasts, circling them, containing their movements, never allowing all to focus on a single point.

The crowd began to murmur.

Minutes passed—and the gladiators were still standing.

Blows landed. Shields cracked. Sand sprayed beneath claw and boot alike. Yet the formations held.

The beasts roared in frustration as coordinated spear thrusts pierced armored hide, while arrows and spells struck joints, eyes, and exposed flesh. Slowly—agonizingly—their movements began to dull. One tiger faltered, its legs buckling under accumulated wounds, before collapsing in a thunderous crash.

A heartbeat later, the second followed.

The arena erupted.

Cheers replaced disbelief as voices rose in favor of the gladiators. What had begun as a blood offering had turned into a display of mastery.

"You have excellent warriors," the silver-haired man remarked casually, turning his gaze toward Gwen. There was admiration in his tone—but also something calculating beneath the surface.

Gwen inclined her head slightly, offering no reply.

Victory seemed inevitable.

Then one of the tigers threw back its head and roared.

The sound was different—deeper, layered, resonant with something ancient.

Its body shuddered violently as its muscles swelled, dark hide splitting along glowing seams. New tendrils tore free from its back—three more, thicker and longer than the rest—writhing like living weapons. A crushing aura flooded the arena, pressing down on gladiators and spectators alike.

The cheering died instantly.

Fear rushed back in.

"I-It’s evolving!"

The dwarf announcer screamed into his artifact, voice cracking.

"A SIX-TENDRIL TIGER! A DIVINE BEAST!"

A divine beast was an anomaly—an existence that transcended its species, standing a full realm above its kin. Its power rivaled that of a Grand Magus, and its presence alone warped the battlefield.

The sand beneath its paws liquefied.

The gladiators tightened their formations instinctively—but for the first time since the battle began, hesitation crept into their movements.

The divine beast struck.

Its massive body blurred forward, tendrils lashing out like living spears, each strike cracking the air with enough force to shatter bone and steel alike. The gladiator formations recoiled under the sudden surge of pressure, shields groaning as several warriors were driven to one knee.

Then—two figures broke away from the formation.

They moved in perfect unison.

Both were nearly identical in build and bearing, their dark blue skin marked with faint arcane patterns that pulsed as their spirit force surged. They were Hybrid magus.

One raised his hand, eyes glowing pale silver.

The temperature plummeted.

Frost exploded outward, coating the ground beneath the divine tiger’s paws in an instant. Jagged ice surged upward, locking around its limbs, slowing its charge mid-stride.

The second twin stepped forward without pause, spirit energy flowing like a rising tide.

Water condensed from the air, spiraling around the frozen mass, reinforcing the ice layer by layer. Pressure built rapidly—compressed, refined, and shaped with expert control.

A combined spell.

The arena gasped as ice and water fused into a crystallized prison, staggering the divine beast and forcing it to roar in fury rather than dominance.

"What a powerful Full Moon Magus!" someone shouted from the stands.

While the divine beast remained momentarily trapped, the rest of the gladiators surged toward the remaining two monsters, cutting them down with ruthless efficiency.

The divine tiger tore free through brute force, chunks of ice shattering across the sand. By then, however, it stood alone—its dark hide no longer pristine, but streaked with blood.

The formation advanced once more.

Spears struck in coordinated waves. Shields slammed into exposed joints. Arrows and spells rained down with ruthless precision, the twin magus maintaining seamless synergy with the rest of the formation.

The divine tiger fought back savagely, crushing sand and bodies alike, but the momentum had already shifted.

Under the relentless assault, its movements began to slow.

Its roar weakened.

With one final, defiant lunge, the beast collapsed, its massive body crashing into the arena floor hard enough to send tremors through the colosseum.

For a heartbeat, silence ruled.

Then the arena exploded.

The dwarf announcer nearly lost his voice as he shouted into his artifact.

"VICTORY! A SPECTACULAR VICTORY FOR THE IMMORTAL GLADIATOR SCHOOL!"

The crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, chants echoing across the stone tiers as citizens rose to their feet.

On the VIP platform, Lord Gregory leaned back in his seat, clearly amused.

"Well now," he said with a chuckle. "That was... unexpected."

Nearby, Gwen caught the silver-haired man’s expression—and saw what he tried to hide.

Annoyance.

The rest of the VIP guests regarded her differently now, their earlier dismissal replaced by interest.

Down below, within the shadowed confines beneath the arena, two figures observed the aftermath in silence.

Emery’s gaze remained fixed on the battlefield, calm and analytical.

"Your personal units are strong indeed," he said.

Thrax grinned broadly, arms crossed over his massive chest. "Of course they are. They’ve followed me through countless battlefields."

That was the truth of it.

These were not mere entertainers—they were veterans. Survivors of real wars, sharpened by chaos and command. As for the two hybrids at the forefront—

Yama and Yami.

Twins who had once guarded Earth itself.

Thrax cracked his knuckles eagerly, eyes gleaming as the cheers continued above.

"So... when is my turn?"