Earth's Greatest Magus

Hera’s laughter echoed across the arena. Her heels clicked softly as she walked a circle around the monk, savoring the spectacle like a queen admiring her latest conquest. With a sly smile, she leaned toward Ashaka.

“What do you think, monk… are you ready to surrender?”

Ashaka didn’t speak. His breath was heavy, his eyes—empty and dull. Slowly, he shook his head.

But it wasn’t his will that moved him. That much was clear.

A ripple of panic surged through the Earth faction’s corner.

Julian was the first to rise to his feet, outrage. “What are you doing?!!! Let him go!”

Hera turned slightly, a mischievous curl tugging at her lips. “It’s not me, really… He keeps resisting. He just doesn’t want to give up.”

Then, like a silent spell, her thoughts pierced their minds—every one of the Earth warriors in the box heard her voice within.

<What do you all think… maybe I should end him… and get this over with?>

Fury erupted within the Earth fighters. If Thrax had been present, he would have already torn through the arena walls to get to her. Morgana and Chumo remained silent, but their tense stances spoke volumes. They were ready to act.

Klea raised a hand, her voice firm, commanding. “Stand down.”

Silence returned, heavy and tense. Klea’s eyes locked on Hera, doing everything in her power to keep her composure. “Tell me… What do you want?”

Hera clapped her hands lightly, amused. “You indeed are the smart one…” Her smile widened as she extended a single finger, pointing directly at the quietest figure in the back.

Damo.

“The boy,” she said sweetly. “Send him next. That’s what I want.”

Gasps filled the Earth box.

Damo? Of all people? The youngest, the least experienced?

Julian looked at Klea. “She’s toying with us.”

But Klea’s unease went deeper. With Ashaka’s life hanging by a thread, Hera could’ve asked for their strongest fighter and force to surrender. Yet she had chosen Damo.

“No,” Klea said under her breath. Lоvе this stоry? Shоw suppоrt аt МV2LЕМРYR.

But she was too late. Damo was already walking into the arena, composed, resolute.

“I am here, let my master go”.

Klea reached for him, but hesitated. There was no solution. No move she could make without risking Ashaka.

Hera’s eyes glinted with satisfaction as Damo stepped into the arena. She leaned close to Ashaka and whispered something inaudible.

And then, to everyone’s shock, Ashaka turned to the crowd and said clearly, “I surrender.”

The arena erupted.

Hermes and Iris jumped to the center, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

“What a stunning performance from our Queen Hera!” Hermes boomed.

“Spectacular!!” Iris added, her voice echoing. “The score is now four to four! These duels are only growing better by the second!”

The crowds roared with excitement.

Yet while the Olympians celebrated, the Earth faction remained frozen. Not a single cheer passed their lips.

Klea’s heart dropped. Her instincts screamed. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.

Ashaka was walking toward Earth’s corner, and he was about to pass Damo.

Damo stood calmly, his head slightly bowed in respect as his master approached. But Klea saw it—saw the way the divine aura around him flickered unnaturally.

Hera had not released him from her control.

Klea’s face drained of color.

“No!!… Damo, get back!!”

Her voice shattered the silence, but it was too late.

The entire arena seemed to freeze in time as Ashaka stopped a few paces in front of Damo. His hands began to rise—not to strike, not to embrace—but to form a seal.

Damo’s eyes widened. “Master?”

The eight-armed silhouette of the Asura flashed behind him, an echo of divine rage barely visible for a second.

Then came the tremor.

Klea thought that Ashaka would land a surprise attack on Damo, but Ashaka’s attack was not outward, but inward. A pulse of divine energy surged inside him, radiating from his core.

And then—

BOOM.

“NOOOO!!!” Klea screamed.

The arena was frozen in shock as an explosion of divine energy burst from Ashaka’s chest. Blood gushed from his mouth, ears, and eyes in terrifying streams. A crackling, dreadful sound followed as his spirit core shattered from within. Blood splattered across Damo’s robes as he dropped to his knees, catching Ashaka’s falling body.

“Master…” he whispered, trembling.

Across the Earth side, all warriors surged in panic.

Klea was the first to move.

But dozens of Magus guards surged forward. Wards lit up across the edges of the arena like a golden net—one that shimmered and pulsed, blocking her path. Julian, Titus, Armenius, and Hardy followed close behind, each one erupting in panic and fury.

“Master!!”

But they, too, were halted.

“Let us through!” Julian growled, punching the barrier.

The guards didn’t move. They didn’t have to.

A dedicated team of healers raced to the arena, but it was already too late. Most magus knew this. The destruction of a spirit core was absolute.

Without it… not even the soul could remain intact.

Ashaka was dying in Damo’s arms—

The arena thundered with the sound of Kronos supporters cheering in cruel ignorance. Hermes and Iris took to the stage once more, their voices echoing across the coliseum.

Klea’s voice tore through the noise, raw and furious.

“YOU!” she pointed at Hera, “You did this! You forced him into it!”

Hera simply shrugged. “Me? Oh, no, dear. That’s what happens when someone uses a forbidden technique. He paid the price. That’s all.”

“Liar!” Titus roared.

“You witch!” Armenus spat.

But Hera didn’t even flinch.

The Earth corner erupted into fury, voices rising in protest. Yet no answer came—only the distant drumming of Kronos’ approval.

And through it all, Damo knelt.

The dying elder in his arms was not just his master—he was the parent who had raised him when he was just a filthy infant abandoned at the temple gates. The man who had nurtured him, guided him, and shaped him.

The pain radiated across the arena like a silent shockwave.

This had been Hera’s plan all along. She had intentionally chosen Damo—the one person Ashaka cared for most—to inflict the deepest sorrow.

Damo’s arms cradled his master’s body. The warmth of life was fading from his flesh.

Yet… there was one final movement.

Ashaka’s trembling hand rose—barely.

His blood-soaked fingers brushed against Damo’s forehead, leaving a streak of crimson. His eyes opened for the last time—glassy, dimming, yet locked with terrifying clarity.

No words were spoken.

But in that gaze was everything.

Damo gritted his teeth, his entire body shaking.

“I understand, Master,” he whispered. “Rest in peace.”

Ashaka’s hand slipped away.

The last second-generation Earth Warrior… has passed.

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