Chapter 1771 Magus Battle
The standoff between Emery and the leader of the Kronos faction was nothing short of epic, a battle of titans that raged on far longer than anyone had imagined. Both sides, drenched in sweat, showed signs of weariness, but their resolve to win was unwavering.
While the fierce combat continued, two other imposing figures from the Kronos faction - Poseidon and Ares - watched intently from a distance. Their expressions were unreadable, but the energy around them was palpable, indicating that they were formulating strategies.
Suddenly, without warning, Ares, the god of War, channeled his immense energy. With a fierce battle cry, he slammed his foot onto the ground, releasing a shockwave of energy that manifested as an earthquake. The very fabric of the planet trembled beneath its force. Even the sky seemed to darken momentarily as if nature itself was acknowledging the might of the god of war.
Caught off guard, Morgana, Fjolnir, and Abbot found themselves swaying uncontrollably, struggling to maintain their footing. Rocks and debris flew around, adding to the chaos.
Amidst the confusion, Morgana didn't lose focus on her primary objective. With a determination burning in her eyes, she lunged towards Zeus, the legendary sword aimed straight for his neck. However, the aftershocks of the earthquake caused the ground to fracture, and from these cracks, stone pillars rocketed upwards. These rocky obstructions shielded Zeus and his entourage of magus just in the nick of time.
With a swift and powerful swing, Morgana's blade sliced one of the pillars cleanly in half. But the brief delay was enough for Zeus to be whisked away to safety by these shifting rocks.
Grumbling in frustration, Morgana tried to pursue, but more stone barriers erupted around her, effectively hemming her in. She let out an exasperated growl, "URGHH!!!"
She quickly scanned the battlefield and her eyes locked onto Ares. Her pupils narrowed with anger, and she seemed ready to launch herself at him. But before she could make her move, another figure stepped up. It was Fjolnir.
His gaze was fixed on Ares. With an air of confidence, he proclaimed,
"Ares, god of war, I will fight you!"
But the muscular god remained eerily silent, his attention seemingly elsewhere. There was a tense pause before Poseidon, with an arrogant swagger, approached the trio. His voice, deep and chilling, resonated,
"You not worthy to challenge him, I alone am enough to handle the three of you.
With a defiant glare, Fjolnir bellowed, "Alright! You then!" The ground seemed to tremble with the sheer force of his voice. His muscular frame rippled with anticipation, and the intricate braids in his hair swung as he moved, catching glints of light. From behind his back, he pulled out a staggering two-meter-tall double-bladed great axe. Its dark metallic sheen looked even more menacing against the backdrop of the battleground.
Closing his eyes momentarily, Fjolnir began to chant in an ancient dialect. As he did so, ethereal blue tattoos began to emerge and snake across his brawny arms, chest, and neck, illuminating his form in a soft azure glow. The air around him thickened as his strength surged to incredible levels.
On the other side, Poseidon smirked, evidently unimpressed. From the depths of his robes, he produced a shimmering trident, its prongs sharp and gleaming, exuding a power that felt as vast and fathomless as the oceans. The aura around him intensified, reminiscent of the mighty waves that battered the hardest rocks into submission. With a swift leap, he lunged at Fjolnir, trident at the ready.
Their clash was cataclysmic. Sparks flew as weapon met weapon. The surrounding area trembled, not from any quake this time, but from the sheer force of their confrontation. To the onlookers, it seemed clear who the victor would be — Poseidon, a full moon magus with years of battle experience, versus the newly ascended crescent moon magus of Earth. Yet, when the initial clash ended, it was Poseidon who looked taken aback. Fjolnir, against all odds, was holding his own, even though the strain was evident on his face.
Laughing, but with a hint of annoyance, Poseidon remarked, "You're impressive for a neophyte. But, believe me, it's nowhere near enough." With that, he channeled more power into his trident, pushing back against Fjolnir's axe with renewed vigor.
But just as it seemed Fjolnir might be overwhelmed, a blur of movement caught Poseidon's eye. Morgana, in her half-wolf form, lunged at him. Rage and frustration from her earlier failure to kill Zeus emanated from her. The transformation rendered her claws into fiery blades, radiating an intense heat — her signature move, [Hell's Flame].
However, Poseidon was not caught off-guard. Sensing the imminent danger, he released a defensive spell just in time. A wall of water energy surged from the ground, forming a barrier between him and Morgana, and the force from it sent her spiraling backward.
With a cold, steely voice, Poseidon sneered at the fallen Morgana, "I'll deal with you after." His attention, however, quickly returned to Fjolnir, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to deliver a potentially fatal strike.
For a moment, Poseidon felt certain of his victory. The scales of the battle seemed to have tipped in his favor. But as he prepared to deliver the final blow, he noticed something odd. Instead of faltering, Fjolnir's resistance grew fiercer, the grip on his great axe even firmer.
Confused, Poseidon's gaze wandered, seeking an explanation. That's when he spotted the monk, a few paces away. The monk's arms were alive with intricate, glowing patterns, an ancient script of power flowing and pulsating. Those patterns matched the ones on Fjolnir, and it became evident to Poseidon that the Abbot was amplifying the Fjolnir's strength, enabling him to withstand the sea god's onslaught.
Eyes narrowing, Poseidon addressed the monk. "Earthlink," he muttered, acknowledging the Abbot's clan with a hint of begrudging respect. "Always full of surprises, aren't you?"
Without responding verbally, the Abbot continued his chant, a low, melodic cadence that carried an undeniable power. The patterns on his arms branched out, one channel feeding energy to Fjolnir and the other now also reaching out to Morgana, empowering her.
Together, the duo made a synchronized assault on Poseidon. Fjolnir, wielding his axe with amplified might, and Morgana, moving with unprecedented agility, aimed for Poseidon's blind spots. The god of the sea, despite his vast experience, found it challenging to counter two perfectly synchronized attacks.
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