Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2613: Winner

HOWWWLLLL!!

Glita’s roar split the arena like a thunderclap, raw and defiant.

Her bloodline transformation shimmered with fractured light; the crystalline plates on her arms cracked and glowed faintly with internal strain.

She was surrounded. Against the onslaught of ten undead magus—each wielding formidable weapons and elemental spells in deadly harmony—even her superior physique was pushed to its breaking point.

Her fur was singed, her breath ragged, and blood streaked freely down her sides, soaking the dust-caked arena floor.

But still, she refused to yield.

When she was finally cornered, from her storage ring, she yanked a cluster of shimmering vials, their contents glowing faintly with golden light. Without hesitation, she hurled them at the advancing undead.

CRACK—SSSSSSHHHH!!

The vials shattered against their targets, releasing bursts of hissing vapor that clung to the undead like mist. Where the liquid touched rotting flesh, it ignited in white-hot light. Smoke poured off the afflicted magus as their limbs stiffened, their fluid motion breaking down into jerky, sluggish movements.

“What the hell is that?!” voices cried from the stands, and spectators leaned forward in shock.

Hades’ eyes widened. He felt it—the connection he had to his reanimated soldiers was faltering. His mental threads twitched and pulled, but the undead were no longer responding properly. They moved like broken puppets—disjointed, uncoordinated.

“No… no… that’s—!” he growled, fury bubbling up his throat. “HOLY WATER?!”

It wasn’t just some purified liquid—it was a direct affront to his domain, a weapon designed to unravel death itself. The Earth faction had prepared for this. They knew he would bring undead puppets.

“You—damn BASTARDS!” Hades roared, his bident slamming against the arena floor.

But Glita was already moving again.

She dashed through the rigid, half-burning undead, claws glowing, body a blur of silver and crimson. Her strikes were wild but precise—one sweeping claw shattered an undead’s spine, another drove through a ribcage, and a third tore a rotted head clean off.

She moved like a storm of fury and ash.

The crowd held their breath.

Hades could only watch in paralyzed horror as more of his undead crumbled into scorched bone and blackened ash. His pride, his strategy, his puppets—all reduced to twitching heaps.

Glita didn’t stop. She grabbed another fistful of vials and flung them forward. The explosions lit the arena with flashes of divine gold. Undead staggered and shrieked, their bodies unraveling into smoke and dust. Even the stronger reanimated ones began to falter under the dual assault of sacred liquid and sheer savagery.

But the toll was mounting.

Glita’s lack of high-level battle experience began to show. Her attacks grew reckless—overcommitted lunges, wide swings that left her open. She was panting hard now, bleeding from multiple new wounds. Her claws were chipped. Her footing wobbled.

Yet she pressed on. Destroying. Ripping. Surviving.

Her growls became snarls. Her breath steamed in the cold air. Her muscles screamed in protest.

And still, Hades stood behind his crumbling forces—unable, or perhaps unwilling, to intervene.

“HOWWWLLLL!!”

Glita’s voice tore from her throat again—a blood-soaked war cry of defiance. She had finally finished off the last of the undead and now stood atop a pile of scorched corpses, her golden eyes blazing, chest heaving. Her fur was matted with sweat and blood—some of it hers, some not.

She turned, eyes locking with Hades.

And he took a step back.

Hades recoiled. His hand trembled. “No… this is impossible… She can’t still be standing.”

Glita took a slow, wobbling step toward him.

She wasn’t going to let him escape.

Her claw dragged along the ground, leaving a trail of blood. Her intent was clear—she would devour her target.

Hades stumbles back. “STAY BACK!”

Glita raised her hand one final time, her claws glinting in the dim light.

But her body could go no further.

The fey wolf transformation began to flicker; the runes burned out. Then vanish. She dropped to one knee and then slumped to the ground with a final exhale, barely conscious.

Hades’ expression twisted into a sick, gleeful grin as he watched Glita collapse.

Now he felt bold

Now, he would end her.

Dark energy coalescing into a spear of pure entropy. His eyes blazed with malevolence. “You mutt… Now you die!”

BOOOOM!!

An overwhelming force surged through the arena, slamming into Hades like an invisible wall. His feet skidded back against the marble, eyes bulging.

From the edge of the arena, Morgana stepped forward.

Her domain bloomed behind her and with a flick of her finger, Glita’s limp body was pulled back toward safety.

The message was clear.

This duel was over.

A voice echoed overhead. Hermes, the announcer, made the judgment official:

“Kronos faction wins the first match!”

A murmur rippled across the stands, cheers and comments about the battle echoing through the coliseum.

But in the Kronos box, no one smiled. No one celebrated. Their expressions were grim, eyes sharp with barely contained anger. Despite winning, Hades had brought embarrassment to the faction.

Iris took over the broadcast, her divine voice crackling with cheerful pageantry:

“What a thrilling start! The score now stands at 1 to 0 in favor of Kronos. And now, let’s see who the Earth faction will send next!”

According to the rules of the Duel, the losing side could send another warrior to challenge the victor. If they declined, the point would be lost forever, reducing their maximum possible score to just nine.

In the Earth faction corner, Glita stirred faintly in Morgana’s arms. Her eyes fluttered open, and her voice, ragged and soft, whispered, “I’m sorry… I wasn’t strong enough to finish him…”

Morgana didn’t answer. But another did.

Gwen knelt beside her and gently took her hand. “You did more than enough, Glita. I’ll finish this—for you.”

With those words, Gwen stood, her gaze shifting to the others, then finally to Klea. A single nod from her was all she needed. Gwen turned and stepped onto the arena floor.

This had always been part of the plan. If Glita succeeded in defeating Hades, it would be a brilliant start. But if she fell short, Gwen would strike next and finish off the exhausted Kronos magus.

The crowd stirred again, murmurs sweeping through the coliseum as they saw another non-magus realm woman step forward.

“Again? Another sky realm warrior?”

“They really don’t have many magus, do they?”

“Maybe she’s like the last one… a half-blood?”

But unlike Glita, Gwen was not blessed with a powerful bloodline or transformative ability. In fact, among the Earth’s chosen fighters, she was the weakest—she hadn’t even reached the peak of the Sky Realm, still stuck at her 8th pillar.

Yet she possessed something far more dangerous than brute strength.

As Gwen reached the center of the arena, she threw off the cloth covering the sword strapped to her back. A radiant golden blade gleamed in the sunlight, encrusted with brilliant jewels, its very presence exuding majesty. Even among the Magus universe standard, such a weapon would be considered a prized treasure.

Excalibur, the divine sword.

The spectators gasped.

On the opposite side of the arena, Hades’ twisted grin returned.

“Caliburnus… You… I remember you, princess… So… he actually sent you in.” His voice grew manic. “He will regret this.”