Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2643: Final Strike

Julian soared high into the sky, golden light trailing behind his wings. His breathing was ragged, but his eyes still burned with fierce defiance. Kronos stood unwavering, confidence radiating from every inch of his battle-worn frame. He raised his scythes once again, ready to end the battle with a final, merciless strike.

Then the air split.

BOOM!!

A deafening shockwave erupted as the two forces clashed again. Blinding light exploded from the collision, forcing many spectators to shield their eyes. When the radiance faded, gasps echoed across the stands.

Mid-flight, Julian’s divine form suddenly flickered. His body stuttered in motion, as if momentarily caught between planes.

“No… not now!” he hissed through gritted teeth, panic flashing across his face.

The Guardian’s Blessing, his divine buff, wavered. The brilliant aura that had carried him this far dimmed to a pale shimmer. His momentum faltered.

Kronos saw it.

And he struck.

Without hesitation, he surged forward, scythes swinging in a devastating arc of temporal distortion. Julian had no time to counter.

Gritting his teeth, he dropped into a defensive posture, pulling his shield close as he activated a desperate measure—[Phase Spiral].

He spun midair, the shield rotating rapidly with him. The technique bent the trajectory of Kronos’s strike, diffusing the force like a spiraling cyclone of light.

CRAAASH!!

The collision sent another shockwave across the arena, splitting the air with thunder. Light flared again—hot, blinding, furious.

When the smoke cleared, a hush fell over the coliseum.

Julian was still in the sky—but barely. His shield had been blasted away to the ground. His left arm hung limply at his side, crushed under the strain of absorbing Kronos’s blow. Blood dripped freely from his fingers.

Kronos hovered before him, unflinching, already raising his scythes for a killing strike.

“Now DIE!!” he roared, descending like a storm.

But Julian wasn’t done.

With a flash of golden light, he activated another defensive technique—his ultimate safeguard.

[Guardian’s Aegis – Wings of Embrace].

Six colossal golden wings unfurled and folded around his battered form, forming a cocoon of divine energy. The feathers glowed with celestial symbols, interlocking like sacred armor. Kronos’s scythes slammed into the cocoon with meteoric force.

Six colossal golden wings erupted from Julian’s back, blazing with radiant light. With a heavy, sweeping motion, they folded inward, interlocking like sacred armor, cocooning his damaged form in a shell of divine energy.

Each feather shimmered with celestial inscriptions—runes etched by ancient gods. As the wings sealed together, they formed not just a barrier, but a sanctum—it was faith forged into form. The very air around it shimmered with layered barriers, its radiant surface pulsing in rhythm with Julian’s heartbeat.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The strikes rang out like hammer blows against divine steel. But to Kronos’s growing frustration, only thin, hairline cracks formed along the shell.

“Huh?!” Kronos growled. “Hiding like a turtle now? Let’s see how long you can last!”

Irritated by Julian’s continued resistance, Kronos narrowed his eyes and extended his scythes. The air shimmered unnaturally as he activated one of his more advanced techniques—[Temporal Rift Cascade].

Time distorted around him.

Space split into overlapping moments, and in an instant, multiple phantom versions of Kronos appeared—each a perfect echo from a different fraction of time. They emerged from divergent timelines and dashed in from every direction, scythes flashing like arcs of moonlight.

The assault began.

Each phantom Kronos struck the golden cocoon simultaneously, attacking from multiple angles. The real Kronos stood above, watching with cruel satisfaction as cracks began to spread across the divine shell.

This time, the result was undeniable.

The radiant golden light that had protected Julian until now dimmed drastically. The cracks deepened, spiderwebbing across the cocoon. Faint trails of light leaked out as if Julian’s soul itself was bleeding through the shell.

“He’s losing it,” someone whispered in the stands.

On the Earth faction’s side, Klea’s hands trembled. Beside her, Thrax clenched his fists, veins bulging. The rest of the Earth warriors stood in tense silence. No one spoke. No one could.

From the Olympian balconies, murmurs rose with excitement. To most, this was the end.

“NOW BREAK!!” Kronos roared, his voice shaking the skies.

He raised his scythes high, gathering every ounce of cosmic and temporal energy. Then, with a godly roar, he brought them down in one final, devastating slash.

BAAAAAAMMMMM!!!

A colossal explosion erupted as the golden cocoon shattered. Blinding light burst forth like a star gone supernova, engulfing the entire arena in holy brilliance. Shockwaves rippled outward, forcing the barrier arrays to flare wildly just to hold the destruction in.

Kronos hovered above the destruction, grinning.

It was done.

But then, as the light finally faded, the smirk froze on his face.

Julian was still standing.

Hovering midair, he was a mess—bloodied, breathing ragged—but his eyes burned brighter than ever. Both arms, somehow, gripped the hilt of the gleaming sword now blazing with holy flame. His golden wings had vanished, but all his divine power remained, pulsing with terrifying energy, all converging into the sword.

The audience gasped.

Julian had been preparing this.

Letting go of the shield, retreating into his wings—all of it had been a ploy. Behind the guardian’s embrace, Julian had poured everything he had left into one final blow. His very soul had fused with the blade.

His voice rang with power.

“This is my final attack!”

[Heavenly Mandate – Strike of the Chosen].

Holy energy erupted from the blade in a shockwave so pure, so furious, it split the very air. The sword glowed white-hot, its divine light eclipsing even the sun above. The temperature shifted.

Time seemed to pause.

A holy arc of power descended toward Kronos.

For the first time in the battle, the time god flinched. His face turned stony as he activated his defensive measures—but he was too late.

His Temporal Rift Cascade, the very technique that split his body into echoes, had fractured his reaction window—his fragmented time echoes cost him a precious half-second.

Too slow.

Julian’s blade struck with righteous fury.

BAAAAMMM!!!

The sword tore through Kronos’s armor, carving deep into his chest. Divine light pierced straight through him. A burst of energy followed, so loud and bright that the entire arena shook. Dust and flame erupted in a massive, spiraling column.

Gasps rang through the coliseum.

When the blinding light finally faded from the skies, two figures were seen falling.

Julian crashed down first, slamming into the ground on one knee, panting heavily. He swayed where he knelt, barely able to stay conscious.

Across from him, Kronos lay flat on the stone floor, unmoving.

The coliseum fell into a stunned, reverent silence. The flames in the sky faded. The divine energy that had filled the arena began to disperse.

It looked as if Earth had done the impossible.

“Did… did Earth just win again?” someone in the stands whispered.

Gasps echoed. Murmurs rose like a rising tide.

The Olympian side—normally filled with cheers and arrogance—was frozen. Kronos’s most devout supporters turned pale, disbelief written across their faces. Their champion… their god of god… was down.

Still motionless.

And then—Kronos’s fingers twitched.

The broken body began to stir, his muscles trembling as he forced himself to rise.

Gasps turned to cries.

The crowd watched in horror and awe as the fallen titan began to stand again.

Blood poured from the gaping hole that Julian’s holy strike had pierced straight through his chest. His armor hung in tatters. His breathing came in sharp, hissing gasps.

And yet, he stood.

Broken—but not beaten.

His eyes glowed a dark, furious red as he glared at Julian.

Then, Kronos whispered something—words not meant for anyone else. A chant. Low, cold, and ancient.

The air turned heavy. Time itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then came the sound.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

A haunting rhythm echoed across the battlefield. Ethereal.

Behind Kronos, an enormous spectral clock formed—its golden hands spinning counterclockwise. Golden threads of temporal magic wrapped around his limbs and chest, flowing into his wounds.

The crowd instantly recognized the spell.

[Chrono Reversion].

The aura pulsed once—twice—then surged with radiant force.

In a matter of seconds, the gaping wound in Kronos’s chest closed completely. The cracks in his armor sealed as if they’d never existed. His breath deepened. His stance stabilized.

His power returned.

The god of time was reborn.

Once again, he stood in his prime—as though Julian’s divine strike had never happened.

A stunned silence engulfed the arena… and then exploded into a roar of triumph.

“KRONOS! KRONOS! KRONOS!!”

The Olympian supporters surged to their feet, screaming, stomping, cheering. Their immortal champion had cheated fate.

Kronos raised his head slowly. His face was stone, but his eyes burned with contained wrath. He stepped forward, preparing to deliver the final blow.

But before he could utter a word—

Julian raised his hand, and said clearly.

“I surrender,”

“…”

The cheering died instantly.

Even Kronos froze mid-step, stunned.

Julian’s expression was calm—serene even.

He didn’t wait for a response.

He turned, limping slowly back toward the Earth corner. His body shook, but he kept moving—leaving Kronos behind.

The spectators murmured in confusion. Some looked enraged, others merely puzzled.

Up in the VIP plafrom, the Grand Overseer watched the scene unfold with narrowed eyes. He leaned over to Jinkan.

“You knew something, didn’t you?”

Jinkan’s lips curled into a small smile. She didn’t look away from the arena.

“Yes.”

Jinkan had fought beside Julian before—endure the Trial of Faith for months. She’d watched him fought the endless storm, and survive when all others faltered. It was there that he earned the title of Heavenly Ruler, not through sheer power, but through patience, wit, and unshakable resolve.

He wasn’t just strong.

He was cunning.

She knew better than anyone that Julian wasn’t the gallant hero he claimed to be. Behind that bright smile and golden aura, he was a tactician—calculating, fearless, and above all else, opportunistic.

And this battle was no different.

Before the duel began, Jinkan had approached him with a whisper of truth—knowledge passed from Kronos historical battles.

Kronos’s most feared ability—Chrono Reversion—was not infinite. It had a hard limit to used in one battle.

Two Times.

Julian hadn’t come to win. Not directly.

He had come to spend Kronos’s miracles.

Everything he’d done—it was all a performance. A perfect, orchestrated illusion designed to bait out both uses of Kronos’s divine reset.

And he had succeeded.

Now, battered and nearly unconscious, he left the stage—knowing the battle wasn’t over.

Because someone else was waiting.

From the Earth corner, a new presence emerged.

A woman stepped into the arena—her long crimson hair billowing like wildfire. Her aura surged outward with terrifying intensity distorting the air around her.

A hush fell over the crowd.

All eyes turned to her.

Morgana

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