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Magus Reborn Chapter 177
🕑 Added 2025-02-08 02:44:53 +0000 UTCChapter 177
Kai's eyes narrowed at the destructive massive hole that was made by the drones they’d created. Flames from the explosion still flickered even in the middle of the grass and rubble.
For a moment, silence covered the entire battlefield. Even his own forces, despite knowing the drones’ purpose, stood frozen, staring in disbelief at the raw destruction.
The short-term offensive drones had worked exactly as planned, their enchanted cores detonating with devastating force. But Kai had no time to stand and celebrate the little success. He could already see movement on the enemy’s side—figures scrambling, regaining their bearings.
He looked around at his own forces. “Don’t just stand there! Charge! Show the enemy our strength!” his voice cut through the stillness.
At that, a thunderous roar erupted from his troops. They finally snapped out of their stupor. The ground shook beneath the charging forces, cavalry leading the way with Killian at the front, his blade shining. The infantry surged forward behind them, moving in perfect coordination. Ahead of them, more drones hovered forward, ready to blast through additional sections of the wall.
But this time, the enemy reacted faster.
A flurry of spells and arrows rained down, targeting the incoming drones. Several exploded mid-air, bursts of flame and shattered metal lighting up the sky. But many still reached their mark, slamming into the castle’s structure with earth-shaking force. Entire sections of the walls groaned and collapsed.
From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of archers plunging from the ramparts, dying on the spot, their screams lost in the chaos.
Then, the enemy Mages retaliated.
Earth Mages moved fast, their hands glowing white as the ground rumbled beneath them. Stone and soil rose at their command, twisting into new barriers to block Kai’s forces. But his Mages were faster.
A crackling roar filled the battlefield as lightning bolts shot through the air, striking the forming walls before they could harden. The explosions sent chunks of rock flying, the shockwaves rippling through the field. Fire followed in rolling waves, its heat distorting the air as it crashed against stone and mud defenses. Wind-enhanced blades sliced through enemy lines with deadly accuracy, carving deep into armor and flesh. Ice mages hurled jagged spikes, their sharp tips gleaming as they tore through the battlefield.
Painful screams and furious shouts mixed with the clash of steel and the roar of magic.
Through the chaos, Kai’s sharp gaze scanned the battlefield, searching for the blood drinkers. He saw none. But when his eyes flicked upward to the castle walls, something made him pause.
Two enemy Mages stood atop the battlements, their robes billowing in the wind, their hands glowing with power.
One wielded fire. The other water.
The Fire Mage lifted his staff, his eyes gleaming with menace. A ball of molten energy formed above him—[Incendiary Burst], a third circle spell. A heartbeat later, the sphere exploded, sending searing flames crashing into Kai’s frontline. The impact hurled soldiers backward, their armor glowing red-hot before melting against their skin.
Agonized screams filled the air.
Beside him, the Water Mage moved, his fingers tracing symbols in the air. In an instant, dozens of water spears shimmered into existence—[Piercing Torrent]. The sharp, crystalline projectiles shot forward like arrows, slicing clean through armor and flesh. Soldiers gasped and fell, blood pooling beneath them as the spears punched through their bodies.
Kai’s jaw tightened. They were third-circle casters—strong, dangerous. Left unchecked, they could turn the battle against him.
He exhaled slowly, steadying his thoughts.
Even with enchanted weapons and armor, his soldiers were still mortal. They weren’t meant to fight high-tier Mages head-on. That was his job.
Time to test this new body.
Wind gathered around his legs, swirling like a coiled storm. Then—with a single push—he launched himself into the air.
Gasps rang from the enemy as he soared above the battlefield. The archers on the battlements barely had time to react before he landed in a controlled burst of wind, standing tall on the wall. Behind him, fire and smoke curled into the sky, painting the battlefield in a hellish glow.
The two third-circle Mages stiffened. Years of battle had sharpened their instincts, and they recognized the danger immediately. The Fire Mage’s eyes widened as he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Kai sensed danger coming towards him from his side.
A barrage of arrows shrieked toward Kai, aimed to take him down before he could act. But his wind magic flared, twisting the air around him. The arrows veered off course, snapping mid-air like nothing. The few that remained on target—he dodged them with inhuman grace, his feet barely skimming the stone as he moved.
Just then, Fire and water surged to life in the Mage's hands, twisting the air around them.
The Fire Mage conjured a molten sphere in his palm, the heat distorting the space around it. Beside him, the Water Mage shaped swirling orbs of razor-thin liquid, their surfaces trembling with compressed force, ready to cut through flesh and steel alike.
With a single breath, they attacked.
Kai moved instantly. His left hand shot forward, fingers spread wide. Ice erupted from his palm, a thick crystalline wall forming in the blink of an eye. The fireball struck first, exploding on impact, sending cracks racing through the frozen barrier. A heartbeat later, the water spheres slammed against the ice, shattering with piercing shrieks.
He rebuilt the ice wall from his left hand and prepared his next move.
A deep crimson glow pulsed beneath his skin, searing through his veins. His right hand ignited.
“Anglo Granda Zakai!” he muttered.
Dark flames erupted from his palm in the form of a deadly dragon, a furious lash of searing heat. It devoured his own ice wall, melting through the structure in an instant and opening a hole—just wide enough for his flames to break through.
In an instant, the large dragon shaped fiery spell caught the enemy Mages off guard.
The Water Mage lunged to the side, but not fast enough. The edges of his robes ignited, embers licking at the fabric. Gritting his teeth, he summoned a flood of water, drenching himself before the flames could spread.
His ally wasn’t so fortunate.
The Fire Mage met Kai’s attack head-on, summoning his own blaze in a desperate attempt to counter. For a moment, the two infernos clashed in midair, swirling together in a storm of burning light. But it didn’t take long to see whose fire was stronger.
Kai’s flames surged forward, swallowing the weaker blaze.
The Mage barely had time to scream before the blast slammed into his chest, sending him flying. His body struck the stone wall with a bone jarring thud before crumpling to the ground. Smoke curled from his scorched robes as he lay motionless.
The Water Mage’s eyes widened. His eyes slowly moved from Kai to his comrade and then back at Kai.
“A dual-casting Mage…” he muttered in a mix of disbelief and awe. Kai couldn’t care less.
Twin spells flared to life in his hands—one wrapped in crackling frost, the other wreathed in searing fire.
He had learned something recently. His fire and ice weren’t opposites, not in the way ordinary magic dictated. Instead, they fed into each other—a cycle of destruction and renewal.
And Kai relished the power in his hands.
With a flick of his wrist, an ice lance shot forward, its sharp tip pointed at the Water Mage; the man reacted instantly, summoning a shimmering blue barrier of water in front of him. The ice slammed against it, spreading frost across the surface. But before the shield could solidify, a wave of fire followed, scorching the moisture and exploding the shield with a blast of scalding steam.
The Water Mage coughed, covered in the mist, stumbling back as the heat clawed at his skin. He barely managed to form another layer of defense before Kai pressed forward with more attacks.
Ice spears shot through the air. Fire bolts zipped toward the Mage with a crackle. A slicing arc of wind-infused magic sliced through the battlefield. Spell after spell rained down in rapid succession, forcing the Water Mage into a constant retreat.
He was good—Kai could feel it. His water shields held for a while, bending and reshaping with each strike. But every clash wore on him, draining his mana faster than he could replenish it.
And Kai could see it.
The Mage scoffed in frustration, his gaze immediately darting towards the battlefield below, as if hoping for any reinforcement–any sort of help. But there were none. And that gave Kai the cue to finish this.
He waved his hand in the air and launched another burst of fire towards the Mage, who gritted his teeth and dodged, rolling to the side at the last moment. As he rose to his feet, he flickered his wrist.
Thin, shiny daggers of water shot towards
Kai, slicing through the air like blades. The wind whistled but Kai didn’t even flinch.
A gust of wind spiraled around him, catching the daggers mid-flight and sending them spiraling off course. Before the Water Mage could even react to his failed attack, Kai struck.
His hand shot forward, creating a fiery whip.
It lashed forward, coiling around the Mage’s torso. Then he yanked.
The Water Mage barely had time to gasp before he was yanked off his feet, crashing into the stone floor with a loud thud. His breath was knocked out of him, and his limbs twitched weakly as he struggled to rise. But
Kai wasn’t about to give him the chance.
With a flick of his wrist, the whip tightened its grip, bringing him down and pinning him to the ground. Then, he yanked him off in the air with his new found strength. A scream echoed out of him as he fell to his death, but soon it faded and Kai took the moment to relish in his victory.
“Not bad. But they were never going to win,” he muttered, taking a breath to stabilise his heartbeat.
Despite them being at the same rank, Kai knew the difference between him and any other third circle Mage was major. He was almost at the peak of the third circle, and had experience alongside superior spells and a lot of training to the point he was even confident in taking on a fourth circle Mage.
He narrowed his eyes and looked at the battle below. No more Mages were left—and just as Kai exhaled, a sudden chill crawled up his spine. His instincts screamed at him to move.
He twisted. A dagger flew past his shoulder, slicing through the air where his throat had been only moments before. His gaze snapped to the source, and standing there, wearing heavy silver armor, was a Knight with a bloodied blade in hand.
"I will kill you for my lord," the Knight growled.
Kai raised an eyebrow, unruffled by the threat. He didn’t raise his hands to cast a spell. Instead, he reached behind him, pulling free the spear strapped to his back. The weapon hummed in his grip.
"Let’s see if you can," Kai said, lowering into a stance. "I won’t even use magic."
The Knight’s pupils dilated with surprise for a moment before his face tightened–devoid of emotions. He roared and charged—with his sword raised high.
Steel flashed as the Knight swung in a vicious downward arc, aiming to cleave Kai in two.
Kai intercepted the strike effortlessly, twisting his wrists just enough to deflect the blade to the side.
The Knight groaned at the money. But soon, he recovered, pulling the sword from Kai’s grasp and lashing out rapidly, his sword moving in brutal slashes and thrusts.
Kai danced around each strike, sidestepping the attacks as if they were nothing more than just wind.
"You're slow," Kai said with an air of nonchalance, dodging yet another heavy swing.
The Knight’s eyebrows knitted together and he snarled in frustration. His fury mounted as he pressed on and every attack became more desperate and reckless than the previous.
Kai moved in defense. Sparks flew as steel collided with steel, but no matter how fast or hard the Knight struck, his sword never once grazed Kai who doubted the man was ever going to be able to touch him.
After all, had opened the vaults in his legs.
He felt the rush of power surging through his muscles, amplifying his speed to inhuman levels. It felt effortless to move, avoid strikes, dodge every hard thrust. Like a shadow.
So this is what it feels to be an Enforcer.
The thought barely had time to settle before
Kai’s instincts kicked in, pushing him onto the offensive. He could let this man slash and thrash until he got fed up and ran out of energy, but Kai had other matters to attend to—basically to overlook an entire field of chaos.
He slipped past another wide swing, pivoted on his heel, and with a fluid motion, slammed his foot into the Knight’s chest. The force sent the man stumbling back, barely managing to keep his footing.
Kai didn’t give him a chance to recover.
The shaft of his spear snapped forward, striking the Knight’s knee, splurging blood out of it. Armor groaned, and the Knight dropped to one knee with a sharp gasp of pain.
Kai’s movements were swift and deadly. In a single motion, he twisted his spear and drove the sharp tip through the Knight’s shoulder, piercing deep into the armor.
The Knight’s howl of agony echoed in the air, but Kai wasn’t finished yet. He yanked the spear free and lunged again, stabbing into the
Knight’s other arm, impaling it. Another cry of pain rang out, but the man couldn’t muster the strength to fight back.
“There you fucking go.” Kai kicked the man sprawling onto his back, his body collapsing with a thud.
Kai stepped back, his breath steady as he surveyed the scene. His legs buzzed with energy, and his body hummed in a way he had never felt before. Even as a Magus, he had never experienced this kind of raw, untethered power. The Enforcer's strength was something entirely different—far beyond what he had imagined. He felt alive—every cell of him.
But before Kai could dwell on the feeling, a sudden wave of shouts filled the air—some filled with pain, others with rage.
The battle wasn’t over and he had to play his part.
***
Killian’s boots squelched against the bloody ground as he looked around. Steel against steel rang through the air. Men shouted with fury? Pain? He didn’t know, nor did he want to know. The only thing he saw was the bodies that fell and the stench of blood, sweat and iron.
But they were winning.
The Enforcers carved through enemy lines like a well-oiled machine, their formations holding strong.
Killian knew that his training for them had paid off. He could see that. Each swing of their blades was precise, each step measured and coordinated. Further back, Mages rained destruction from behind the front lines—bolts of fire streaked through the sky, ice shards impaled enemies where they stood, bursts of wind sent men tumbling like ragdolls, and several Earth Mages were helping the fighters back to back by shifting their enemy's footing, throwing them off balance and even attacking with large chunks of earth particles.
Killian had his doubts about the Mages before. They were from the Archine Tower originally, and he had never trusted them. But so far, they hadn’t failed.
Still, the battle wouldn’t end until they took the enemy Viscount.
Lord Arzan had given the order before the fight had even begun, and now, it was up to Killian to see it through.
Gritting his teeth, he adjusted his grip on his sword and charged toward the stone staircase leading up the wall. The sounds of battle faded behind him, drowned out by his own heartbeat. He focused on the top of the wall, where Lord Arzan fought against enemy Mages and archers, the dark silhouette of his figure outlined by flickering flames and exchanging water attacks.
Killian pressed forward.
Out of nowhere, a spear shot toward him, aimed for the narrow slit in his visor.
He barely saw it in time.
Instinct kicked in, and he dropped low, feeling the sharp rush of air as the weapon whistled past his helmet. It clanged against the stone behind him, sparks flying.
His head snapped up.
Six enemy soldiers blocked the stairs ahead, their weapons drawn, their eyes fixed on him like wolves spotting fresh prey. But he knew who the predator was. Yet, he absorbed their figures.
One of them smirked. Another twirled a short axe in his grip, as if eager to see blood spill.
Killian exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. His fingers tightened around his sword hilt.
If they wanted to stop him, they would have to try harder than that.
He tightened his grip on his sword and set his stance. Sparks of lightning crackled along the blade’s edge. He exhaled sharply and raised his weapon.
"Come at me.”
The words barely left his lips before he struck.
His sword cut through the air in a wide arc, and bolts of lightning flew from the blade, snapping toward the enemies like creeping vines. The crackling energy slammed into their armor, forcing some to stumble, but there were too many to be attacked with one strike. Moreover, the narrow stairway left little room to maneuver, and their sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm him.
A spear lunged for his chest. He twisted, letting it scrape harmlessly past his side, then brought his sword up just in time to deflect a downward slash from another soldier. Sparks erupted as steel clashed against steel.
The tall man pressed forward, trying to drive him down the steps. Killian’s boots held firm.
He ducked beneath a swinging axe, rolled his shoulder to avoid another spear thrust, then lashed out—grabbing the nearest soldier and smashing his head against the cold stone wall. The man groaned, stumbling back, and Killian wasted no time, his blade slicing cleanly through the second soldier’s chest, lightning surging through the wound.
The third and fourth came at him together, their swords flashing in unison. Killian gritted his teeth and met their assault, his blade a blur as he blocked and parried. He shoved them back, their balance wavering. Before they could recover, a fifth soldier barreled forward, boots crushing down on his fallen allies in his rush to strike.
Killian sidestepped, letting the man’s momentum carry him forward, then hooked his sword beneath his opponent’s guard and sent him reeling down the stairs. The last soldier hesitated, his eyes darting between the injured men and Killian’s crackling blade.
Big fucking mistake.
Killian raised his blade. A surge of lightning burst from it, striking the man square in the chest. The force lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing over the stair’s edge with a strangled scream.
Silence followed, save for the distant clash of battle.
Killian didn’t waste time catching his breath. He turned, sprinting up the remaining steps.
As he reached the top of the wall, his gaze swept over the wide area.
An arrow sliced through the air to come towards him and he dodged, looking at the archer standing right next to the entrance and grinned, dodging more arrows and closing the distance between them.
Killian cut through him effortlessly and shoved him backwards. The man’s screams fell into deaf ears as the force of Killian’s fist threw him off the wall.
Just then, a Knight lunged at him, but Killian barely slowed. He took that opportunity and side stepped the clumsy strike and drove his sword clean through the man’s chest. He yanked it free in one fluid motion, flicking blood onto the stone beneath him.
And then he saw him. The Viscount.
In the middle of all the action and noises, the noble stood with his back straight, hands gripping the hilt of a longsword. His eyes swept over the battlefield—the crumbling walls, the slain soldiers, the flames licking at what was once his castle. There was no fear in his expression, only a grim acceptance.
He turned as Killian approached, his gaze hardening as he took him in.
"I'm not planning to go down without a fight," Viscount Buck said steadily despite the ruin surrounding him.
Killian tilted his head, cracking his neck as he shifted his stance. Lightning curled around his fingers before settling back into his blade.
"That's fine by me."
Viscount Buck surged forward, steel flashing as their weapons clashed. Sparks flew from the impact, the force rattling up Killian’s arms. For a mortal, the noble had impressive strength—his strikes came fast and relentless, fueled not by desperation but by something deeper.
Pride.
Even though his defeat was already decided, he fought with everything he had, refusing to fall without a struggle. And somewhere in that, Killian found a sliver of respect.
But respect didn’t change the outcome of a battle.
Killian shifted his footing and pressed forward, his attacks coming sharper, faster. Buck faltered under the assault, his defenses cracking as Killian’s blade carved through the air. A sudden slash cut toward the noble’s shoulder.
With a grunt, the Viscount raised his arm to block. Steel bit into flesh, and blood splattered across the stone. He let out a pained snarl, staggering back—only for Killian to channel lightning through the wound.
Electricity crackled along Buck’s body, forcing him to retreat even further. His breaths came ragged now, his grip weakening.
Killian didn’t hesitate.
He lunged forward and drove his boot into the noble’s chest, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Before he could even think about getting up, Killian dropped onto him, slamming a fist into his face. The impact echoed against the walls. The noble’s helmet tumbled away, revealing his dazed expression before consciousness slipped from his grasp.
Killian exhaled sharply, wiping his brow as he grabbed the unconscious noble by the collar and hauled him to his feet. His voice rang over the battlefield as he yelled,
"Your lord is down! Put down your weapons!"
The fighting slowed. Warriors turned, bloodied and breathless, to see the fallen Viscount. One by one, swords clattered to the ground. Shields dropped. Hands rose in surrender. Soldiers fell onto their knees.
And just like that—it was over.
Killian stood still, letting the moment sink in. His fingers twitched around his sword’s hilt, and he realized how strange it felt. Victory.
Overpowering their enemy so completely.
He had been so certain, so confident. But now, with the battle won, the weight of it settled in his chest.
Then he heard footsteps.
He turned and saw Lord Arzan approaching. The man had blood on his hands and face—but Killian knew it wasn’t his.
Killian lowered the Viscount’s limp form to the ground, stepping back as his lord knelt beside him.
Lord Arzan glanced at the battered noble, then let out a quiet chuckle. "He’ll need help, but he’s far from death." His gaze flicked to the man’s bruised and bloodied face.
"Though, I doubt he’ll be showing that face in public anytime soon."
Killian exhaled, adjusting his grip on his sword before turning to Lord Arzan. "What’s the next order?"
Lord Arzan didn’t hesitate. "Seize the castle. Tend to the injured—both ours and theirs. Patch them up, then throw them in the dungeons. We’ll interrogate them later." He gestured by his hand. "Get the common folk under control. Let them know we’re not here to slaughter them, or they might do something foolish. And send the Enforcers to deal with the othet nobles before they cause trouble."
Killian nodded, knowing the work wasn’t over yet.
But just as he turned to leave, Lord Arzan’s gaze flicked to the sky, his expression shifting into something colder.
"...Though," he murmured, almost to himself, "I don’t think the battle is over yet."
A chill slithered down Killian’s spine. He frowned. "What do you mean?"
Kai’s jaw tightened. "I saw no blood drinkers in this fight."
The words hung heavy between them, sinking into Killian like a weight in his chest. It was true. He himself hadn’t seen a single blood drinker. Not when the entire castle was being reduced to shambles.
"We need to question the Viscount about it,"
Kai continued, eyes scanning the ruined battlefield. "But I’m afraid they’re just hiding, waiting for the right moment. Their stealth abilities are beyond what I expected." He let out a slow breath, then finally looked at Killian.
"This is just the start."
Killian’s fingers curled around his hilt, his instincts sharpening.
"Yes, Lord Arzan" he agreed. "The start of many battles. We are prepared."
Comments
ThoMiCroN
the othet->other* nobles before they cause trouble."
Storyflower
If you defend your home turf, you do not 'smirk'. May they be on the side of evil (do they even know?), it is still their home being raided. I take offence at this kind of language regarding boxed in defenders: "One of them smirked. Another twirled a short axe in his grip, as if eager to see blood spill." It would be in line with the rest of the story not to paint the subordinates, whether soldier or other folk, as villains. They are caught up in a conspiracy theory and though I think you are pretty irresponsible getting into that nowadays, to our collective shame and desperation, in a medieval era (witch hunts and such) you really don't know any better.
Coby G
“The Knight groaned at the money.” Did you meant money or something else? “His fury mounted as he pressed on and every attack became more desperate and reckless than the previous.” Don’t you mean his fury grows?
Traellium
I wonder what's next on the list for his cultivation, draconic essence or bonding with an elemental.
Arthor K
It's more for his new found enforcer strength
James Squibb
Enjoyed the chapter. A little confused at the joy of Arzan torturing the knight though
