The Grand Palace was burning as servants ran away from the place. The royal guard barely held their ground against the invaders.
Inside the throne room,
Marcus hit his staff on the marble floor and forced another barrier into existence. The translucent dome shimmered as it absorbed three consecutive lightning strikes.
"You're finished, Marcus." Valdris stepped through the smoke, his crimson robes untouched by ash or flame. "The King is dead. Your precious Court is scattered. Surrender, and I'll make it quick."
In response to Valdris, Marcus moved his staff. He released the barrier and channeled the residual energy into a lance of compressed force. It crossed the distance in a heartbeat.
Zing...
Valdris gestured with his right hand. The lance bent mid-flight and punched through a marble pillar instead.
Boom.
The wall exploded outward.
"Spatial manipulation during combat casting." Marcus spat blood. "When did you master the Third Circle?"
"While you were playing politician." Valdris raised both hands. The air between them twisted. "I've been working my ass off."
The space above Marcus folded. He felt the distortion a split second before gravity reversed. His feet left the floor.
Bang...
He slammed into the ceiling hard enough to crack ribs. The impact drove the air from his lungs.
Valdris made a pulling motion. Marcus dropped twenty feet and hit the floor face-first.
Thud...
I can't believe Valdris has mastered spiritual magic. Fate is really unpredictable. One day you are at the bottom of the magic world, and another you master the hardest magic known.
Marcus looked at his situation. No matter how I see it, it doesn't look like a situation from which I can escape.
Ah... damn it, I told that stupid king many times not to mess with the empire. He just doesn't listen to smart people.
Marcus took a deep breath as he stood up. Valdris didn't attack him; he waited patiently.
He is enjoying toying with me. My mana reserve is almost exhausted. And even if I do survive today, I don't think the empire will ever let go of an archmage from the enemy kingdom, especially not one who is bound to the royal family.
Valdris moved his hand again.
Marcus staff had fallen somewhere behind him. His rolled onto his back and drew the emergency focus from his belt, a simple iron ring etched with basic amplification runes.
Crack...
The earth cracked and broke into multiple small pieces as he channelled the last bit of mana into the ring.
Bang...
The earth pieces moved with terrifying speed at Valdris.
Valdris smirked as he murmured, "Iron Wall."
The earth stretched from his feet to above his head.
Boom
Boom
The attack never reached Valdris. The entire throne room was destroyed beyond recognition.
"You trained me, Marcus," Valdris walked forward slowly. "I know every spell in your arsenal. Every technique. Every trick you've used to survive the last thirty years."
"My strength was not the only reason the Holy Emperor chose me to deal with you."
"It took me eight years, eight whole years of preparation to deal with you. Because I know what kind of a cockroach you are. You just won't die."
Marcus tried to stand. His left leg wouldn't support his weight. He looked down and saw bone jutting through his thigh. When did that happen?
"You killed the King." Marcus forced the words out. "You murdered the Council of Seven. Was it really worth it?"
"All of it," Valdris said without hesitation. "They would never have allowed me to progress. The Court has stagnated for two hundred years, recycling the same approved spells, maintaining the same rigid hierarchy. Someone had to break the cycle, Marcus."
"By slaughtering everyone who disagreed?" Marcus asked.
"By removing the obstacles." Valdris raised his hand. "I gave them a choice. Most of them refused. The few who accepted are already working on the new order. We'll rebuild without the artificial limitations."
The air around Marcus's chest compressed. He felt his ribs creak under the pressure. Valdris was crushing him without physical contact.
Ah...
"You were the best of them," Valdris said quietly. "I hoped you'd understand. I hoped you'd see past the Court's propaganda."
"I have seen students who fell into the same trap as every forbidden practitioner before you." Marcus coughed up some blood. "You think you're better. You think the empire will let you build your own family. That they will let you serve them. After seeing how you have bitten your own master, your king, your own kingdom. But look at your eyes, Valdris. You are fucking delusional."
Bang...
Valdris kicked Marcus right in his jaw.
For a moment, something flickered across Valdris's face.
"I'm becoming what I need to be." The pressure increased. Marcus felt something crack inside his chest. "Goodbye, master."
Marcus's vision blurred. His lungs couldn't expand. Is this the end? Is this all my life amounts to, dying by the hand of a kid I once taught?
No.
I refuse to die like this... no, I won't die like this.
I still have one option. The last option I can think of.
A long time ago, in the age of the first emperor, there was a story about magicians who have lived for thousands of years.
A tale which is very hard to believe. But Marcus found some records during a dungeon exploration.
They were some kind of experimental records of a crazed dark mage, who was trying to recreate the magic once wielded by those ancient magicians.
He took those research papers. It had taken a lot of time to decode the records, but he was able to learn one spell from them. It was not really a complete spell as there were many inconsistencies in it.
He'd researched that spell in secret, locked away in his mind rather than written down. The Court would have executed him for even considering it.
The spell was related to soul transference.
The theory behind that spell was simple: a dying magician can project their consciousness into nearby vessels. But there are a few conditions for it. First, the host must be dead, and the death must not be more than an hour old or less than 30 minutes.
The spell was still not complete after years of research, but Marcus really didn't have a choice. Seeing the sadistic look on Valdris's face, who was watching him die, he felt really angry.
Marcus focused, trying his best to stay conscious. The soul transfer spell was different from any spell he had ever cast.
The reason was that most spells were cast by using his staff or worldly means as the medium, but this spell needed to be cast into the soul.
Marcus reached for his soul resonance, something which only a mage at the Archmage level can do. He looked deeper than normal, down to the core where his consciousness touched the raw energy that powered everything.
He noticed the pure essence of the soul and started casting the spell on it.
He screamed but no sound came out.
It hurt. The pain cut through the physical agony of his dying body. He felt something fundamental tear as he shaped the spell with nothing but willpower.
It hurts. It hurts so much.
While dealing with such pain, Marcus's mind couldn't help but wonder if dying was really worse than this pain.
But only for a few seconds. No, I absolutely refuse to die at the hands of this stupid dog who can't even see his own demise is near.
Valdris noticed something different in Marcus. "Are you trying to do something, Master?" But he didn't do anything other than watch more intently.
After the spell was completely cast on his soul, he needed a target. Someone dead but not too dead.
Suddenly, Valdris noticed something strange in the atmosphere. "What are you..." His eyes widened. "No. Are you—"
Marcus released the spell.
His consciousness exploded outward. The world shattered into fragments. The new world was devoid of any color. He felt his body die behind him, and felt the final heartbeat stop. There was no going back. The spell was cast; now he could do nothing but wait and pray that it would work. His awareness kept moving, streaming across the space between.
A dead guard's body jerked as Marcus's soul crashed into it. The guard's consciousness flickered weakly, then collapsed under the assault. Marcus felt it dissolve like morning fog.
The possession locked into place. Marcus opened his new eyes.
Marcus didn't waste a single moment, knowing that Valdris had mastered spatial manipulation, so he would definitely notice his soul transfer.
The body he possessed was that of a newly assigned royal guard, who died very early because of lack of experience in war. That is why his mana reserve was still at its full capacity. A Grandmage.
Valdris stared at him. "You actually did it. You cast a soul transfer." Valdris broke into wild laughter.
Marcus struggled to his knees. Speaking felt bizarre with an unfamiliar tongue. "This isn't over."
"Yes, it is." Valdris made a sharp gesture.
The entire section of floor beneath Marcus exploded upward. Stone and magic and concussive force launched him through the air.
When Valdris confronted Marcus, his mana reserves were already empty after killing ten empire archmages.
So he never cast any of his powerful spells.
Now he could.
Time stopped. Valdris's eyes widened, for the first time in whole confrontation with Marcus he felt dread.
Everyone within approximately 100km stopped what they were doing—not only humans, but everything. Everything just stopped.
An enormous magic circle was being crafted into the sky. It was big enough to cover the entire kingdom. Not only the stopped area.
"Let me show you what peak pinnacle magic looks like, you dumb moron."
With an evil smile, he screamed:
"Big Bang!"
Boooom
Every single enemy within the kingdom was vaporised in an instant without harming a single citizen of the kingdom.
And the same was true for Valdris, who was nowhere to be seen.
"See you in hell, moron. That's what the pinnacle of Archmage magic looks like!"
Hahaha...
But why do I feel so light? Shouldn't I be tired and huffing like a dog after abusing this new body?
What he saw next stopped his laughter.
Wait... wait a second... what...
Marcus's new body was also vaporised in the attack; his soul was floating in the air.
I'm fucked.
Then his soul also dispersed.