Ery supported Thrax's decision.
He truly did.
Watching his old friend finally grasp a path toward a long-delayed
breakthrough stirred genuine relief. Thrax had earned that right through decades of blood, endurance, and unyielding will.
And yet-
The Oracle's warning lingered in Ery's mind like a shadow that refused to disperse.
Arenas were never clean places. They were life-and-death battlegrounds where ambition devoured the weak and even the strong could fall without warning. And the Magus Universe Infinity Arena was not rely dangerous-it was the most lethal stage of them all.
Thrax, as always, showed no fear.
His concern lay elsewhere.
Becoming the number one champion was not a matter of winning a single tournant; it was a culmination of many victories. The Infinity Arena was a continuous crucible-an unending cycle of ranked duels against thousands of champions across thousands of worlds. Reaching the top would take years, perhaps longer, demanding absolute focus and relentless training.
Which ant only one thing.
"This ans I'll need to take an extended military leave," Thrax said quietly.
He did not phrase it as a request.
He stated it as a fact.
Ery answered without hesitation.
"Don't worry. I'll handle it."
Thrax looked at him.
"You've been carrying that mantle for too long," Ery continued. "It's my turn to fill the role."
The words ca easily.
The weight behind them did not.
Even as he spoke, Ery felt the pressure tightening around his chest. Too many responsibilities rested on his shoulders already-too many people depended on his presence, his decisions, his strength. He could not simply abandon everything and walk away.
Ery knew he could not simply send Feyanor or Soltz in Thrax's place. Neither of them was formally registered with the Magus Alliance, and assigning them to a role of this magnitude would only invite political scrutiny and unnecessary complications. More importantly, Thrax's position could not be filled by just anyone. He represented the Earth Faction's military contribution, a responsibility that demanded the presence of a recognized core mber.
This was not a duty that could be delegated lightly.
Thrax studied him for a long mont.
"I an it," Ery said, eting Thrax's gaze. "Focus on your goal. I'll take care of everything here."
Then he nodded.
He did not waste ti.
Preparations began imdiately.
Ery insisted that Thrax should not travel alone. After brief consideration, the
role of weapon bearer and assistant fell to Kingrig. Despite his rowdy
tendencies, Kingrig's loyalty was unquestionable, and this journey would be a great experience for the young warrior as well.
The night before Thrax's departure, Ery sought him out.
They did not speak of cultivation or politics.
Instead, they reminisced.
They spoke quietly of the past-of battles survived, of comrades lost, and Ery warned him of the dangers ahead.
Before they parted, Ery handed Thrax two items.
The first was a storage ring. Inside were Ery's finest dicinal pills-his best work. Among them were two Tier-8 Dual Refinent Pills, capable of pushing Thrax's physical body to unprecedented heights.
Thrax did not fully comprehend their true value, but he knew Ery well enough to understand that such a gift was not given lightly. He accepted it without hesitation.
The second item gave him pause.
A Tier-7 defensive artifact, dium-grade yet exceptionally rare-Randhall's Armor.
The mont Thrax realized what it was, his refusal ca instinctively. The armor represented security that even a seasoned Grand Magus would envy. Thrax's treasured Gaelbok Spear offered so asure of protection, but it was ultimately a weapon of offense. Randhall's Armor was different-it existed solely to keep its wearer alive.
Ery could have used it himself, but he had alternatives in his arsenal. More importantly, peace of mind had its own value.
"Your safety is what matters most. Besides, if you succeed and beco more famous, we all benefit," Ery said firmly.
After a long silence, Thrax finally accepted the armor.
Thrax's departure followed soon after, and its impact was imdiate. Gladiators who had once drawn confidence from his presence felt the void he left behind, and soldiers hardened by years of warfare found themselves unsettled by his absence. Though life at the Immortal Gladiator School continued, sothing essential had quietly shifted.
Only a day later, Anpu and the remaining frontline veterans departed as well, answering the call of duty that could no longer be delayed. Ery appointed the hybrid warrior as temporary commander, with Yama and Yami acting as his support. It was not an arrangent he found satisfying-but for now, it would
have to suffice.
Even as he made these arrangents, Ery continued searching for suitable candidates to reinforce them. At the sa ti, another thought lingered in his mind-one he did not voice openly. Given the dangers awaiting on the frontlines, dangers his future self had explicitly warned him about, Ery considered applying for an extended leave for all of them as well.
With the veterans gone, the Immortal Gladiator School found itself lack of quality fighting forces. Fortunately, recent successes had drawn attention. Talented recruits began to arrive in steady numbers, eager to test themselves beneath the school's rising banner. Oeno threw himself fully into training them, working relentlessly to honor the promise he had made-to rebuild the school into sothing worthy of its na.
But cultivation was not a shortcut.
No amount of enthusiasm could replace experience overnight.
As Ery continued his own training and refinent, reports from the school grew increasingly grim. Week after week, the gladiators suffered defeat after defeat. Their resolve held, but their foundations were still shallow.
Relief ca at last with the arrival of reinforcents.
From Terra.
The first contingent numbered three hundred warriors, one hundred of them
at the Magus Realm. They were a combined force-fighters born and raised in Terra City, the Alvanic subterranean warriors alongside seasoned wolf units
from the Twilight Halls.
Among them were faces Ery knew well.
Chief Beowulf, leading a halfblood pack of thirty; Yoro, the young sand-dune
wolf Ery had once saved, Andrei, the winged wolf, and Tatyana the fox.
They might not be as experienced or refined as Thrax's warrior units.
But they were trusted.
These were people Ery could rely on-not rely for their strength, but for their loyalty. With them in place, he could finally begin laying down firr foundations within Dawnstar City.
He deployed them with care, rotating their duties between intensive training at the Immortal Gladiator School and guarding key assets, including the Red Lotus Hall and his apothecary operations. With the addition of these warriors and the gradual circulation of Ery's refined apothecary products, the situation began to improve. The school's performance in the weekly arena matches steadily rose, finances accumulated at a visible pace, and intelligence networks started to extend deeper into the city's undercurrents.
Stability, fragile though it was, began to take shape.
As these pieces fell into place, Ery finally allowed himself monts of deeper ditation. He turned inward, stabilizing his cultivation, refining artifacts, and carefully reassessing the paths that lay ahead.
Days passed.
Then- Sothing changed.
His consciousness trembled violently as a signal pierced through the stillness.
His Dark Avatar.
The connection was unstable, distorted by urgency and strain, yet its ssage
was unmistakable.
Klea.
"Co quickly... She is in extre danger."
In an instant, every carefully suppressed worry surged back to the surface.
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