Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2843: Astiel Battle 6

"ARGHH!!"

With a roar ripped from blood-filled lungs, Emery forced power into his arms and shoved the Swordmaster backward just enough to break the execution angle—but the reprieve lasted less than a breath.

More attacks were already converging.

Domains overlapped. Spell circles ignited. Killing intent pressed in from every direction.

They thought he was finished.

They were wrong.

Emery coughed up a mouthful of blood, red mist scattering in the wind—then the air around him exploded with motion. Twilight vines burst outward in a violent spiral, thick, thorned tendrils intercepting incoming spells and smashing aside closing enemies. He stepped into the chaos instead of retreating from it, both swords still in hand, and swung in a savage cross.

Two grand magus dodged in time.

One did not.

The intersecting arcs of Khaos-infused steel tore through layered defenses and cleaved him apart, blood and shattered soul fragments scattering into the burning sky.

Then—

Both swords shattered.

Fragments of Embernight and Forstviel spun away in glittering arcs like dying stars.

"—Urrgh!"

Pain lanced through every inch of his body, but Emery forced his mind to stay anchored to a single thought—Klea. She should be far from this battlefield by now.

It was time to retreat.

Emery had prepared one last mean of escape,

His hand swiftly dipped into his domain and came out filled with crimson pills etched in writhing patterns. He scattered them in a wide arc without ceremony.

A heartbeat later— they ignited in mid-air.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A chain of explosions ripped across the battlefield, each detonation blooming with force rivaling high-tier spells. Shockwaves hurled grand magus backward, defensive formations collapsed, and domains flickered under the sudden violence.

Then came the second effect.

Thick, dark-green smoke billowed outward, heavy with corrosive poison that gnawed at spiritual barriers and ate through defensive light like acid through cloth.

"Poison!"

Panic rippled outward as the dark green miasma billowed across the battlefield, swallowing light and sky alike. Spiritual senses dulled, vision blurred, and the air itself seemed to rot with every breath drawn.

This was his perfected Chutulu Bomb—a weapon of layered devastation, where the initial blast was only the beginning and lingering decay did the true killing.

Several grand magus screamed as the toxic fog clung to their protective auras and began eating through them. Flesh blistered. Robes blackened. One man’s defensive barrier failed entirely, and he collapsed to his knees, clawing at his throat as the poison invaded his lungs and spirit channels at once.

Using the chaos as cover, Emery slashed a hand through space. Reality split with a harsh, tearing sound as a jagged spatial rift forced itself open beside him, edges flickering violently. It was unstable, crude—but enough. A desperate escape route.

"He’s getting away! Stop him!" the Astiel ruler roared, fury shaking his voice.

But the churning poison haze stalled pursuit, forcing even grand magi to hesitate as they reinforced their defenses before advancing.

The portal stabilized for a fraction of a second.

Emery stepped toward it—

—but his body suddenly convulsed.

A violent tremor ripped through him from the inside out, as if something deep within his core had collapsed.

Blood burst from his mouth, eyes, and ears as internal meridians ruptured under delayed backlash. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled as the truth struck him.

It took him a fraction of a second to understand. The Swordmaster’s earlier strike had not only shattered his blades; the divine sword intent had burrowed into his soul pathways, accelerating the backlash from his forced breakthrough and the mountain artifact’s drain.

The damage chose this moment to claim its price.

The spatial rift flickered and died.

Through the poisonous haze, a figure advanced with calm inevitability, each step forcing the toxic miasma to recoil under the weight of his spiritual pressure.

The Heaven’s Will Swordmaster.

With a flick of his hand, several spectral blades formed and shot forward, piercing cleanly through Emery’s limbs and torso before pinning him in place. The weapons did not merely wound — they nailed his soul, sealing his meridians and locking his movements.

Emery tried to rise.

His body refused.

Breathing felt like dragging air through broken glass, and even lifting a finger seemed impossible.

The Swordmaster stopped before him, divine blade gleaming with restrained execution intent.

"You are finished," he said, voice calm, "I will now take my revenge for Caelthar."

He raised the blade.

Before it could fall, a steady voice cut through the battlefield.

"Wait..."

A column of warm, pale light descended between them, gently but irresistibly forcing the Swordmaster back a step. The Papal Cardinal stepped into the radiance, positioning himself squarely between executioner and victim.

The Swordmaster frowned.

Darian Astiel landed nearby, his expression darkening as he demanded, "Holy One, why do you interfere?"

The Cardinal did not turn. His eyes remained on Emery, who knelt in blood and ruin, barely conscious yet still resisting.

"I finally recognize him," the Cardinal said. "Emery Ambrose — the so-called savage magus who clashed with Apostle Adam two decades ago."

A murmur rippled through the surrounding grand magus.

"We cannot simply kill him," the Cardinal continued. "There is a profound corruption within him — something ancient, something the Church has sought to understand. I request that he be taken alive."

Darian’s irritation sharpened into visible anger. Too many of his people had died, even his son fate was still unknown.

Sensing resistance, the Cardinal added evenly, "Then allow me to perform an exorcism here and now. I will extract the evil presence. You may claim whatever remains of his soul afterward."

It was a grim compromise, but after a tense pause, Darian gave a reluctant nod.

At once, the Papal delegation moved. Three Seraphs descended in a triangular formation, spears of white fire forming in their hands as they sealed the space with overlapping halos of divine light. Clerics began chanting, and the Cardinal lifted his ancient chalice.

It rang.

The clear tone rolled across the battlefield and plunged straight into Emery’s spiritual sea. His consciousness shook violently as waves of sanctified resonance searched for the core of his power, trying to peel it away layer by layer.