The fight between Earth's Magus and Kronos created multiple spirit energy blasts that tore through the fabric of space, cascading in luminescent waves. Each blast, while majestic in appearance, had an intense impact, particularly on Emery. As he engaged in his high-stakes duel with the Time Magus, these blasts reverberated in his mind, amplifying the strain and testing his focus.
When Emery opted for a full-frontal melee strategy, he hoped to land decisive blows to turn the tide in his favor. But, despite his best efforts and powerful strikes, the damage he inflicted seemed almost negligible. The Time Magus was not just protected by his formidable time spells, which had an uncanny ability to anticipate and neutralize Emery's moves, but he also exuded battle power that paralleled, if not surpassed, Emery's own.
Kronos, the Time Magus, clearly read the frustration and determination mixed in Emery's eyes. Drawing on this, he taunted, his voice dripping with malice, "Please don't let my man, disturb our friend, it will be easier to just accept that your friends are dead already"
As soon as Kronos said the word a mesmerizing luminance emanated from his palm. From this radiant light, Kronos summoned his primary weapon. It was an awe-inspiring scythe, towering and imposing, gleaming with intricate golden designs. The craftsmanship was divine, indicating its godly origins. The aura it radiated was so potent and unique that it left Emery momentarily spellbound.
Meeting Emery's wide-eyed gaze, Kronos's voice dropped to a chilling whisper, "To end your existence with this very weapon, it's almost poetic, don't you think?" His eyes, reflecting the golden glint of the scythe, held a wicked smile as he added, "Prepare, for you shall fall by its blade, as your ancestors did!"
In the brief moment Kronos reveled in his proclamation, Emery summoned his strategic prowess. Channeling his energy, he activated the [Void Mist] spell. The surroundings were immediately consumed by an inky, nebulous mist. When it cleared, there weren't one, but five Emerys, each poised and ready, their images echoing through the battlefield. These doppelgängers, perfect in their replication, surged forward in unison.
Kronos, unflinching, reacted with remarkable speed. With a flourish, he swung his mighty scythe, releasing a cascade of radiant light energy. One by one, the clones dissipated into the ether from whence they came, their existences snuffed out. As the last one vanished, the real Emery lunged, his blade claw – a manifestation of his inner power – gleaming dangerously.
The moment their weapons met, a cataclysmic explosion erupted, its shockwave sending both adversaries hurtling backward, trails of cosmic dust in their wake.
Regaining his balance almost instantly, Emery employed his [Blink] ability, closing the distance between him and Kronos in the blink of an eye. He unleashed a relentless flurry of strikes, each more ferocious than the last. But Kronos was prepared. He twirled his scythe masterfully, each spin deflecting Emery's blows with an elegance that belied the power behind them.
It was during this rapid exchange that Emery noticed something – the scythe wasn't just being spun; it was inscribed with intricate runes of time magic. Each rotation was a temporal incantation, a dance with time itself. Recognizing the imminent danger, Emery, with his keen instincts, rapidly backtracked, putting some distance between himself and the grand magus.
Kronos halted, a gleam of genuine admiration in his eyes. "Remarkable," he mused aloud. "Had our pasts not been so intertwined with enmity, you could have made a magnificent ally, with your power, you could stand side by side with us as gods"
Emery, panting slightly, had a retort dancing on the tip of his tongue, but he held back. The previous exchanges had not been without cost. He could feel a throbbing pain within, a reminder that he had sustained internal injuries. He would need a few precious seconds to gather himself and recalibrate his strategy.
The battlefield seemed almost still to Emery as he rapidly cycled through potential strategies in his mind. He considered his potent arsenal of abilities, but each seemed inadequate against a foe of Kronos' stature. Using poison, for instance, would likely be futile against a magus who so deftly wielded light energy. His ability to devour, while devastating, required proximity and an inflicted wound on the target, something difficult with Krono's astonishing defense.
His battles with other formidable grand magus flashed in his mind. The duel with Zenonia came to the fore, where he had relied heavily on the assistance of a supreme magus soul. And then there was that fateful confrontation with the dark elf grand magus, where Emery had unpredictably transformed into a mysterious primal form. The sheer raw power he wielded in that state was unparalleled. Could that be the key now? A pang of frustration coursed through him as he recalled that his primal core, the source of that immense power, was still fractured. Worse still, he hadn't yet mastered the ability to invoke that primal form at will.
Lost deep in these contemplations, a sudden piercing scream violently yanked Emery back to the present. It was Morgana's voice, echoing with pain and desperation. Glancing to the side, he realized that the battle against Poseidon was taking a severe toll on his allies.
Kronos, ever observant, noticed Emery's momentary distraction. A hint of disappointment clouded his face as he commented, "Your mind strays from our duel. Perhaps I should deal with your comrades first to reclaim your undivided attention."
To Emery's horror, with a mere subtle gesture from Kronos, Ares, the muscular god of war, immediately snapped to attention. The formidable deity stepped forward, his intent clear: to end the battle in Kronos' favor. Emery's heart raced as he realized the imminent threat his friends now faced.
The odds were overwhelmingly stacked against them. The combined might of two full moon magus was unparalleled, and Emery's comrades stood little chance of withstanding their devastating power. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on Emery's shoulders; he knew he had to intervene swiftly or witness the tragic downfall of his companions.
With a surge of adrenaline, Emery propelled himself forward, aiming to aid his beleaguered friend. But as he did so, Kronos unleashed his masterful manipulation of time, entrapping Emery within a temporal warp. The sensation was disorienting, akin to being submerged in a thick, invisible mire. Even Emery's adept gravity spell, which he'd employed to escape similar situations in the past, struggled to free him from Kronos' ensnarement.
Trapped in this slowed reality, Emery's horror intensified as he was forced to watch, almost frame by frame, the unfolding tragedy.
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