Grand Magus-level figures were never ordinary.

Each of them had walked their own path for hundreds, even thousands of years, accumulating experience, surviving countless battles, and grasping opportunities that shaped them into what they had become. They carried a unique foundation built from fortune, technique, and ruthless determination.

Some, like Skylark, relied on rare high-grade treasures and sinister arts, turning every battle into a calculated trap. Others, like Maldrin, pursued forbidden paths, drawing upon demonic entities to reshape their bodies and amplify their power beyond natural limits.

Even the others were not simple.

Through his divine sense, his perception swept across the battlefield, analyzing every movement, every shift in momentum.

To his right—

Madam Butcher, though appearing to rely purely on brute strength and physical refinement, carried something deeper. Each time she swung her butcher blade, a faint three-colored sigil flickered upon her forehead, and her attacks erupted with layered flames—red, blue, and yellow—intertwining into something far more complex than ordinary fire. It was not merely power, but a technique—one that enhanced every strike with destructive amplification.

Despite the ferocity of Madam Butcher’s assault, Morgana remained firmly in control of the battle, her presence dominating the skies above.

Her cosmic flames burned differently.

They were purer.

Denser.

Each time Madam Butcher’s tri-colored blaze surged forward, Morgana met it head-on, her claws wreathed in radiant fire that tore through the layered flames, dispersing them into harmless embers.

On the far left, however, the situation was far less favorable.

Fjolnir was being pushed onto the defensive.

Their clash had shifted deeper into the muddy forest, where the bald man—known as the Phantom Blade—held a clear advantage. His strength did not come from raw power, but from flawless movement. His body slipped through shadows with uncanny precision, every step deliberate, every motion perfectly timed. Paired with his mastery of blades, he became an exceptionally dangerous opponent, one who left Fjolnir struggling to keep up.

Unfortunately—

Emery could not intervene.

Because he found himself momentarily held by the monstrous figure before him.

BAMMM!!!

The six-armed demon surged forward with overwhelming force, and the impact that followed was nothing short of brutal. Maldrin’s sheer strength bulldozed Emery backward, sending him skidding across the swamp as mud, stone, and shattered terrain were torn apart beneath his feet. The force did not stop there; it carried him straight into a rocky hill behind, where his body collided with explosive impact.

The hillside shattered instantly.

Rubble erupted outward in all directions as Emery was buried beneath broken stone and debris, the shockwave rippling across the battlefield.

"Urrghh... that actually hurt."

His voice came from within the collapsed rock as he pushed himself upward, his body rising through the rubble with controlled strength. Stones slid off his shoulders as he brushed them aside, his expression tightening slightly. The blow had been heavy—far heavier than before—but far from enough to seriously injure him.

However—

He was given no time to recover.

Before he could even steady his breathing, Skylark’s follow-up attack arrived.

The barbed chain whip shot forward like a living serpent, its dark energy writhing as it coiled around Emery’s left arm. The hooked barbs pierced into his flesh instantly, tightening with malicious intent as the weapon constricted, attempting to crush bone and tear muscle apart in one motion.

At the same time—

Maldrin charged again.

The six-armed demon closed the distance with terrifying speed, his massive frame shaking the ground with each step. All three of his heads roared in unison, their combined killing intent crashing forward as his claws prepared to strike once more.

Bound.

Under pressure.

Yet Emery remained calm.

"If you insist on comparing muscles..." he said quietly, his gaze steady despite the situation. "Then let’s do it."

A wisp of Khaos energy ignited within him, awakening the primal beast.

But, Instead of unleashing his full transformation, he focused the power into his free right arm, compressing it with precise control. Muscles expanded violently, swelling to nearly twice their size as veins pulsed with primal force, the air around his arm trembling under the pressure.

The ground beneath him cracked.

Energy gathered.

Condensed.

Then—

He struck.

The punch exploded forward, carrying with it the phantom roar of the stellar beasts. The air distorted under the pressure as the strike collided directly with Maldrin’s incoming claws.

BOOM!!!

The result was immediate.

Maldrin’s demonic limbs crushed upon impact, his claws snapping apart like brittle twigs as blood erupted into the air.

"ARRRGHHH!!!"

The roar that followed was filled with shock and pain.

Emery felt a surge of exhilaration rise within him as the power coursing through his arm responded exactly as he intended.

With Typhon’s guidance, he learned to control his primal beast force, no longer allowing it to erupt wildly, but instead compressing and directing it into precise, devastating strikes. The difference was unmistakable, and in that moment, he could clearly feel the results of his training.

Without hesitation, he turned toward the stunned Skylark, tightening his grip on the chain before yanking it violently. The green-skinned man was dragged forward, completely thrown off balance as his body was pulled directly into Emery’s range, his earlier composure replaced by shock.

A second fist followed immediately.

"NOOOO!!"

The cry came too late to matter.

Even Maldrin, in his monstrous demonic form, had failed to endure such a strike, and Skylark—caught off guard and already at a disadvantage—stood no chance.

BAAMM!!

Emery’s punch crashed into his chest with overwhelming force, and in that instant, the man’s body split apart, torn cleanly in two as flesh and bone ruptured under the impact. Blood burst outward in a violent spray, staining the air as his lower half was completely obliterated.

Only his upper torso remained, hanging grotesquely as his hands continued to clutch the chain with unnatural stubbornness. Blood poured from his mouth in thick streams, his body trembling violently, yet his grip did not loosen.

"Interesting..."

Emery muttered under his breath as he pulled the half-body closer, his hand rising to seize Skylark by the neck. There was no urgency in his movement now, only calm control, as he prepared to finish the man with a final strike.

But something was wrong.

Skylark smiled.

It was faint, twisted, and entirely out of place for someone in his condition, and before Emery could fully process it, the man suddenly opened his mouth.

A concealed needle shot forward at terrifying speed.

At such a close distance, the attack was nearly impossible to avoid, its trajectory aimed directly at Emery’s forehead with lethal precision. For most Grand Magus, it would have been an unavoidable death sentence.

But Emery was not most.

In that fraction of a second, his eyes flared with light as his mental power surged outward.

[Spectral Gaze]

An invisible force intercepting the projectile mid-flight. The needle’s path shifted just enough, grazing past his head before disappearing into the distance, missing him by the narrowest of margins.

"Nice try..."

His voice carried a cold edge as he raised his arm once more, ready to end the man without further delay.

Then—

His divine sense erupted in warning.

A sudden, overwhelming danger flooded his perception, sharp and immediate, leaving no room for hesitation.

The elderly man—

Had vanished.

In the next instant, he was already behind Emery, his presence silent yet suffocating. The tattoos along his arm glowed with an eerie light, writhing as though alive before transforming into half a dozen serpents. Each one lunged forward with terrifying speed, their fangs aimed directly at Emery’s back, their movements precise and deadly.

The sudden attack forced him to abandon his strike. Emery released Skylark instantly and twisted his body, spatial energy bending around him as he narrowly evaded the incoming assault. The serpents tore through the space he had just occupied, their energy distorting the air as they passed.

"Hmph... you are not an ordinary Grand Magus indeed," the elderly man said at last, his voice calm and measured as the serpents coiled along his limb, still writhing with unnatural life.

At the same time, Maldrin had already risen once more, his demonic body recovering rapidly as his aura surged again.

"I am ashamed that we need your assistance, Master..." he said through clenched teeth, his voice carrying both frustration and unwilling respect.

The word struck Emery immediately.

Master.

So the rumors were true.

There had always been whispers of a hidden expert guiding the Midnight Brotherhood from the shadows, someone powerful enough to command figures like Maldrin and Varkul, yet never revealing himself.

And now—

That figure stood before him.

Emery exhaled slowly, his gaze hardening as he recalculated the situation. At the very least, he had removed one opponent from the field, reducing their numbers and shifting the balance slightly in his favor.

Or so he thought.

Because in the next moment, something caught his attention, causing his expression to tighten.

Skylark’s remains moved.

The severed upper torso began to writhe unnaturally, flesh twisting and bubbling as if something beneath it struggled to break free. From the torn edges, tendrils of living tissue burst outward, wriggling and expanding, rapidly forming new structure where nothing should exist.

Bone extended.

Muscle wove itself together.

Flesh sealed over the grotesque reconstruction.

Within seconds, a new lower body formed, completing itself in a horrifying display of regeneration that defied natural law.

And then—

Skylark stood once more.

Although there was a significant decrease in his power, the green-skinned man had completely recovered.

"...Damn."

Emery muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the revived figure.

"This brotherhood... they full of freaks..."