Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 3097: Detours

Three days of running. Three days of fighting.

They had fought through more than a dozen battles across the Crimson Steppes, crushing over a million Scourge and more than a hundred infected Grand Magi. Nothing had managed to stop the Floating Tortoise.

But the cost was written across every face on the deck.

Dwarves slumped against the railings, their eyes bloodshot from exhaustion and their armor stained with dust, blood, and Scourge remains. Some had barely spoken for hours, while others simply sat with their weapons resting across their knees, too tired to do anything more than watch the endless grassland pass by.

The ark itself was in no better condition.

Deep scars and dents covered its metal hull, several sections of the outer plating had been damaged, and one of the Ironstar Pillars had developed a long crack running almost its entire length. The formation lines carved into its surface flickered weakly, struggling to maintain their connection with the Star Plaque.

Then, suddenly, an engineer came stumbling up from the lower decks.

Soot streaked his beard, his clothes were stained with grease, and his face was pale with exhaustion.

"Lord Bragnir! The engine core is overheating. We can’t maintain this speed any longer. We have to stop, even if only briefly."

Bragnir’s expression tightened.

He immediately turned toward Emery.

Throughout the entire crossing, Emery had served as the ark’s eyes and shield. His Divine Sense had warned them of approaching enemies, while his spatial abilities and Star Plaque had repeatedly helped them escape situations that should have been impossible to survive.

Now, Emery slowly shook his head.

His shadow clones had already detected another elite rider pack sweeping in to block their path. Farther behind them, millions of Scourge continued to pour across the grassland in an endless tide. Even after three days of fighting, their numbers showed no sign of diminishing.

If the Floating Tortoise stopped now, the horde would swallow them.

"We can’t stop."

His voice was calm, but a heavier concern lay beneath those words.

Every detour.

Every blocked route.

Every infected rider pack that appeared almost exactly where they intended to go.

The pattern was becoming impossible to ignore.

It felt as though they were being slowly herded toward something.

Someone was steering them.

Emery was certain of it.

Durnok spread the map of the Crimson Steppes across a metal table once more. His thick fingers traced their current position before moving toward the southern edge of the region.

"Cutting straight for the Southern Isles will take two, maybe three days," he said. "But with the Scourge tracking us like this, I doubt they’ll simply let us reach the coast. More will be waiting for us when we get there."

"Then we need to shake them first," Bragnir said.

"Here."

Soltz jabbed a finger at a long scar of black ink stretching across the map.

"The Zero Black Crevice. We go through there."

The Zero Black Crevice was a massive crack in the world, hundreds of miles long, cutting across the grassland like a black river. Its enormous walls dropped deep into the earth, while countless side passages branched away from the main ravine and twisted through the darkness like a natural maze.

Anything that couldn’t fly would have difficulty following them inside, and that included the overwhelming majority of the Scourge horde.

"Yes!" Bragnir’s fist slammed against the table. "Brilliant! We might even find a hollow deep enough to hide the ship and give the engine time to cool."

Durnok, however, did not share his enthusiasm.

"I’ve crossed it once," he said grimly. "There are things living down there that don’t take kindly to visitors. And some sections are far too narrow for the ark to pass through."

Several other dwarves immediately joined the argument, their voices rising over one another as they debated the risks.

The crevice could buy them distance.

It could also become a death trap.

Even if it prevented most of the Scourge from following, their senses might still reach into the depths. They could not escape detection forever and would eventually have to face another group of infected waiting for them at the end of the black river.

"Then what do we do?" someone finally demanded.

Emery didn’t answer.

His attention was focused far to the south.

One of his remaining shadow clones had just crossed something.

His expression changed.

His blood ran cold.

Tens of thousands of steppe warriors were moving across the grassland in a vast formation, their sheer numbers stretching across the horizon. The ground trembled beneath the synchronized charge of countless feet and mounts, while dust rose into the air and formed a massive cloud above them.

And at the center of that army was a presence Emery couldn’t measure.

He already knew what that meant.

A Supreme.

So that’s what the last three days were for.

Every skirmish, every scout, every blocked road—it had all been part of the same plan. The Scourge had been herding its prey across the Crimson Steppes, slowly forcing them toward a single waiting hunter.

"There’s a Supreme ahead," Emery said, his expression grim.

The deck erupted.

"We can’t escape!"

"Then we fight!"

"We’ll die running!"

Fear and desperation spread through the dwarves, while a few immediately reached for their weapons. Only a handful remained silent, staring toward Emery as they waited for him to decide what came next.

Emery didn’t answer immediately.

He ran the numbers through his mind.

Himself, Soltz, Bragnir, and Durnok against a Supreme, with millions of Scourge still closing in from behind.

The odds were terrible.

The Star Plaque’s barrier might be able to withstand the Supreme’s attacks for a short time, but it wouldn’t last forever. And even if they somehow survived the encounter, the Floating Tortoise would almost certainly be crippled or destroyed in the process.

Emery drew a slow breath.

"We need to misdirect them again... A bait... But... My clones aren’t enough anymore."

Silence fell across the deck.

Then a young dwarf stepped forward.

"I’ll do it."

Another followed.

Then another.

Within moments, a dozen dwarven warriors stood ready, their expressions grim but determined. None of them asked whether they would survive. They already understood what volunteering meant.

Emery felt something tighten in his chest as he looked at them.

Still, he shook his head.

"A few of you won’t be convincing enough"

Bragnir’s eyes narrowed.

"Then what?"

Emery told him.

The dwarf lord went completely still.

His gaze slowly drifted across the deck. For a long moment, Bragnir said nothing.

Then his expression hardened.

In a voice as heavy as grinding stone, he finally answered.

"...Do it."