Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2910: Swamp Battle

The truth was, Emery had not been caught completely off guard.

Over the past few years, the Earth faction had worked closely with official Magus Alliance representatives, strengthening their presence and promoting their guild halls across the region. That steady rise had gradually weakened the Moonlight Guild’s foothold, cutting into their influence, their profits, and ultimately—their authority.

With Nyx steadily expanding the influence of Lotus Hall, he had long been warned that retaliation from the Moonlight Syndicate was inevitable.

For the past few weeks, Emery had already been preparing for such a plot, anticipating that the Syndicate would eventually make their move. What he had not expected, however, was that it would take the form of the Midnight Brotherhood’s strongest lineup.

His gaze sharpened as it moved across them, recognition settling in almost instantly.

Other than the three cosmos tattooed elder, whose identity remained unclear, the rest were all infamous figures—names that had long been listed among the Magus Alliance’s most wanted.

At the center stood Maldrin, their leader.

The Midnight Demon, a peak Two Cosmos expert, just one step away from breaking into the Three Cosmos realm.

Beside him stood the bald man—Varkul, the Phantom Blade. As the Brotherhood’s second-in-command, he had also reached the third layer of the Two Cosmos realm, though his foundation was not as refined as Maldrin’s. Unlike the powerhouse leader, however, the vice leader’s reputation was built not on brute strength but on intellect. Many of the Brotherhood’s most notorious operations had been attributed to his schemes, earning him the title of the true mastermind behind their crimes.

Not far from him stood the green-skinned figure.

Skylark, the Artistic Demon.

A second-layer Two Cosmos Grand Magus, the Brotherhood’s fourth brother and master torturer. His name was synonymous with cruelty, his experiments infamous even among dark factions, as he transformed living beings into vessels for his twisted arts.

Then there was the muscular woman.

Molly, the Madam Butcher.

A relatively recent addition to the upper ranks, having broken into the Two Cosmos realm only a few years ago and claimed the position of fifth sister after replacing Salen, the Crimson Widow. Her reputation was defined by brutality, particularly toward beautiful women.

As Emery recognized each of them standing before him, a faint smile slowly appeared on his face.

Seven years had passed since his raid, and in its aftermath, the Midnight Brotherhood had been relentlessly hunted. The Magus Alliance dispatched its enforcers, while numerous factions—each nursing their own grudges—joined the pursuit. Pressured from all sides, the Brotherhood had no choice but to abandon their established base and vanish into the shadows.

Since then, they had continued their operations in secrecy, making themselves difficult to track.

Yet now—

They had gathered here.

All at once.

For Emery , this was in fact an opportunity.

The best chance to rid Dawnstar City of its most dangerous infestations—and to claim the reward that would follow.

A staggering bounty—dead or alive—placed upon them by the Alliance.

All four should have totaled around two billion spirit stones.

The air grew heavy as both sides stood in silence, the tension thick enough to suffocate the already toxic swamp. Killing intent lingered like an invisible pressure, pressing down on the battlefield as neither side made the first move.

Varkul, the Phantom Blade. His gaze swept across the three of them—Emery, Fjolnir, and Morgana—lingering just long enough to measure their strength and said.

"As long as that Three Cosmos old man is not here... we have nothing to worry about..." his voice was calm as he said, "Let’s finish this quickly!"

His words had barely settled—

When the stillness was shattered.

Madam Butcher moved.

She stepped forward, lifting her massive butcher blade as a savage grin spread across her face. The weapon gleamed faintly under the dim light as she pointed it directly at Morgana, her eyes burning with violent intent.

"She is mine!!!"

Her voice exploded across the battlefield.

And in the next instant—

She charged forward.

Seeing the incoming muscular woman, Morgana did not react immediately. Instead, she cast a brief glance toward Emery, her eyes seeking confirmation. Only when he gave a subtle nod did she move, her expression sharpening as her body responded.

Her arms shifted first.

Bones cracked and realigned as her fingers elongated into razor-sharp claws, while a surge of fiery energy erupted from within her, enveloping her form.

In an instant, she invoked her Dawn Wolf transformation.

Her body shifted as radiant energy surged through her veins, a blazing aura erupting outward in a fierce golden-red flare. Wisps of flame curled along her limbs like living embers, and her eyes ignited with a predatory brilliance. The air around her warped under the sudden spike of power.

Then—

The clash came.

Madam Butcher’s massive butcher blade descended like a falling executioner’s axe, tearing through the air with crushing force. But Morgana moved faster.

Her claw shot upward.

Steel met claw—

The clash was explosive.

Her claws intercepted the massive butcher blade with perfect timing, stopping its momentum before it could descend further.

With a sharp snarl, Morgana twisted her body and drove her power forward. Flames surged from her core, erupting into a concentrated blast that roared against the butcher blade.

The two forces collided—

Locked in combat, Morgana and Madam Butcher shot into the air, their battle continuing above the swamp in a storm of fire and brute force.

Emery watched them briefly.

Unconcerned.

He had complete confidence in Morgana.

His attention shifted instead to the battlefield below.

Beside him, Fjolnir stood firm, his grip tightening around his battle axe as lightning crackled violently along its edge. Despite only being at the First Cosmos realm, there was no hesitation in his stance, no trace of fear in his expression.

"How do you want to handle this?" Fjolnir asked, his voice steady.

Emery was about to answer—

But the enemy moved first.

Maldrin surged forward, leading the charge alongside his two brothers, while the tattooed elder remained behind, his stillness more unsettling than any movement.

As he advanced, Maldrin’s body began to change. A torrent of blood mist erupted from him, swirling violently as his form expanded, his skin darkening into a deep crimson hue. Two curved horns emerged from his head, and his aura thickened into something oppressive and suffocating.

Then came the strike.

A massive claw projection tore through the air, descending toward Emery with devastating force.

BAAMMM!!!

The impact was catastrophic.

The ground shattered instantly as the claw slammed down, unleashing a violent shockwave that tore through the swamp. Mud, stone, and foul water erupted skyward in a chaotic explosion, the very earth caving inward as a massive crater was carved into the terrain.

Smoke and debris erupted outward, obscuring the battlefield for a brief moment.

Yet Emery was already gone.

His figure reappeared a short distance away, having successfully evaded the attack through spatial bending with practiced ease.

At least—

That was what he thought.

Because in the next instant, Emery realized the truth.

The attack had never been meant to hit him.

It had been a diversion.

The battlefield had shifted, and the distance between him and Fjolnir had been forcefully created.

At the same time, the bald man Varkul moved.

The Phantom Blade closed the gap with frightening speed, his movements sharp and controlled as he charged directly toward Fjolnir, his intent clear.

Emery’s gaze sharpened as he moved to intercept—

But the green man Skylark acted immediately.

With a flick of his hand, dozens of silver needles shot through the air, spreading in a wide arc that cut off Emery’s path. Each needle shimmered faintly, carrying a deadly edge as they closed in.

In response, Emery raised his hand, and Twilight vines erupted from the ground, twisting upward into a dense barrier that intercepted the incoming attack. Most of the needles were caught or deflected, their momentum halted within the living wall.

But not all.

One needle was able to pierce through and stab his arm.

The pain was sharp, immediate.

Emery’s expression tightened slightly as he felt the foreign energy enter his body.

"How cunning..."

That single needle was different.

A top-grade weapon hidden among dozens of ordinary ones, designed specifically to bypass his defenses.

Skylark’s laughter echoed across the battlefield, his voice filled with malicious delight.

"Hahaha... you have just tasted my Thousand Venom."

Emery did not respond.

The moment his gaze locked onto the battlefield, he saw that Fjolnir had already engaged Varkul.

Their clash was immediate and violent.

Axe met blade in a deafening collision, the impact sending shockwaves tearing through the air. Each strike carried immense weight—Fjolnir’s massive axe cleaving forward with brutal, unrestrained force, while Varkul’s unleashed his two sharp blades and moved with refined precision, intercepting, redirecting, and countering in seamless succession.

Steel rang out again and again.

The clash between them was fierce, yet the gap in their cultivation—three stages—was undeniable.

Concern flickered briefly—

But before Emery could move to assist—

Maldrin stepped in, blocking his path completely.

The demonic aura surrounding him surged, pressing down heavily as his presence alone became a barrier.

Emery exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"Impressive..."

Now he saw it clearly.

Their coordination.

Their intent.

This was not a reckless assault, but a carefully constructed strategy. Maldrin and Skylark were not aiming to defeat him immediately; they were holding him in place, isolating him, while Varkul focused on eliminating the weaker target first.

A clean execution, worthy of their brotherhood’s reputation.

And behind it all—

The tattooed elder remained still, watching from a distance.

Emery’s gaze hardened.

This battle—

Would not be easy.