Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

In the coastal waters of Ravenfell, a terrifying battle was about to erupt.

A dozen galleons, their black sails billowing in the wind and proudly bearing the banner of a white skull crowned in obsidian, surged across the waters toward the Harbor Quarter like sharks scenting blood.

The waves churned in their wake, and the sound of war drums echoed faintly over the crashing surf. On deck, armored Magi moved with cruel purpose, each vessel being led by a powerful Mana Vortex Magus.

Their objective was rather simple and obvious: destroy the ports, wreak havoc, and surround the forces of Ravenfell.

The Mana Core Magi were already engaged elsewhere, away from the city. The city's ancient sewer network had already been compromised, and the cultists were already crawling beneath Ravenfell like a plague.

And now, with the fleet approaching fast, the Harbor District was on the verge of destruction. If it fell, the Cult would have all it needed to execute a devastating pincer assault, crushing the city between fire from below… and fury from the sea.

Not to mention, the seed of death they had sown in the Corvid Quarter almost a decade ago.

No matter how much Ravenfell prepared for this battle, they would always fall short. The Cult's anti-divination measures were just too strong. Not to mention, the mysterious Cult Leader also had the strange ability to mask truth as lies.

This was going to be a very bloody battle.

Civilians and Magi on the docks, upon glimpsing the oncoming fleet, froze in horor. Their eyes were wide with shock and their breaths were caught in their throat.

Then came the screams. Utter pandemonium descended upon the docks.

The mortals dropped crates, tools, and fishing nets where they stood, scattering like ants from a flame. Panic swept the harbor district like a tidal wave, and their terrified cries rose into the sky, melding with the gulls' shrieks and the crash of the waves.

No matter how fortified and secured the city had become, nothing had prepared the armed forces for this.

The ships had appeared without warning, materializing from the mists like phantoms.

No sails on the horizon, no horn of war, just… there.

Sudden. Silent. Deadly.

The coastal watch barely even had time to sound the alarms. Magi scrambled, rushing to man defenses that weren't ready. Magical ballistas were still being loaded.

It was too fast! The cult's fleet was too precise, too well-timed.

Slowly, it became clear… this wasn't a raid. It was a coordinated strike, and Ravenfell's flank had been ripped wide open.

But what truly shocked the armed forces of the city was that the defense barriers had not been activated at all! It was as if… someone had tampered with it beforehand, knowing that the cult's fleet would secretly arrive in the coastal waters.

The city's safety and security were handled by the Lord Marshall and her people. But all the defense mechanisms had failed.

It was the same when the meteor appeared out of nowhere, threatening to destroy the Ravenfell Arena.

What had happened to the city's magical barriers?

Who deactivated them?

One simple yet deadly thought emerged in the minds of the city's force…

There were traitors among their midst!

This discovery instantly made some of the Magi give up, thinking that their doom was near. In the blink of an eye, the city that they called home had been infiltrated and devastated by the evil forces.

This was the beginning of their end.

The fact that there was a traitor amongst them—and a pretty high-ranking one at that—perhaps dealt them a more severe blow than the sudden arrival of the cult's forces.

But little did they know…

They weren't fighting alone.

The coastal waters suddenly trembled, massive ripples surging outward in concentric waves. The ocean, which was restless but calm moments ago, now churned with unnatural waves.

As if something beneath the surface was awakening.

On the decks of the Cult's galleons, powerful Mana Vortex Magi stood still, their dark cloaks fluttering in the rising wind.

Each of them wore a solemn expression, their eyes fixed on the distant city walls. But before they reached their objective, they had to deal with an old foe.

They knew they weren't going to fight just the Ravenfell forces. They always knew. How could they not?

They had been fighting this organization for thousands of years, after all!

The most powerful Magus, standing on the deck of the flagship of the Cult's fleet, suddenly took a deep breath and roared.

"How long are you planning to hide?! Come out, you damned heretics!"

Utter silence followed. It was like the calm before the storm. And a moment later, as if responding to the cultist's words…

BOOM!

Suddenly, the sea roared.

Without warning, a colossal wall of water surged towards the skies, towering and furious, like a living tide wrenched from the depths of the Galestine.

It rose higher and higher until it cast a massive shadow over the cult's fleet, blotting out the rays of the setting sun and silencing even the bravest hearts.

And then…

Ships emerged!

From within the watery wall, a dozen galleons burst forth, their hulls glistening, and their white sails emblazoned with the symbol of a rising sun.

Like hungry beasts of vengeance, the ships sliced through the liquid curtain, cannons already primed, and their crews battle-ready.

As the new fleet descended upon the enemy, standing on the deck of the leading galleon, Kenelm Bowman, the Warden from the Twilight Brotherhood, revealed a bloodthirsty and maniacal grin.

He gazed at the captain of the Cult's fleet and roared, "Who the hell is hiding? Allow me to give you a warm welcome!"

The next moment, he raised both hands and then viciously brought them down. "Fire away!!"

A thunderous barrage began.

The forces of the Twilight Brotherhood had joined the battle!

***

Benton Estate, Northern Quarter.

A lone, robed figure walked thorugh the marble pathway leading to the main manor. The pathway was once pristine white and the garden around was lush and vibrant.

Now, however, the place looked no different from a slaughterhouse with countless corpses of Magi strewn around. These were the Magi who had sworn allegiance to the powerful Benton Family.

The robed figure left bloody footprints in his wake. Soon, he arrived at the lavish manor. Raising his head, he glanced at it for a few moments, then climbed the stairs leading to the towering entrance.

He pressed his slightly trembling hands against the wooden oak doors and pushed them open. Then, he stepped inside.

Moments later, from within… came the desperate, harrowing screams of men, women, and children.

Cries of agony and terror tore through the manor. It was raw, echoing, and unrelenting. It was the kind of sound that made the blood run cold.

In the depths of the Benton Estate…

Something unspeakable had begun.