Deep in the mountain ranges north of Ravenfell, an earth-shattering battle was currently taking place.

On one side, there were the Third Headmaster of Saratoga, Marcus Blackwood, and the Second Emperor of the Acadian Empire, Gerald Acadia.

Whereas, the other side consisted of four powerful Mana Core Magi from the Cult of Bones' headquarters in Europa.

Both sides were locked in a violent battle of epic proportions. Since the clash began, entire sections of the mountain range had been obliterated.

Blinding flashes from Rank 4 Spells lit up the dark night, followed by world-sundering blasts that echoed across the snowy peaks.

Their battle had just crossed the one-hour mark, yet both sides remained deadlocked. This spoke volumes about Blackwood and Acadia's magical prowess since they were outnumbered two to one.

However, despite the current results, both of them had grave looks on their faces. From the beginning, their enemies had only used simple magic spells and mana combat techniques.

They had never resorted to the magic that made the Cult so deadly and formidable…

Necromancy!

After a brief melee clash in which over a hundred blows were exchanged within mere seconds, the two sides broke apart, hovering in mid-air. They locked eyes, each silently reassessing their next moves.

The wind howled between them, carrying the echoes of their last exchange. Mana crackled faintly around them, restrained yet ready to be unleashed at any given moment.

It could be said that the cultists were having even greater problems dealing with the two Magi from the Empire. Four of them had joined hands, yet they were unable to take down these two old monsters.

Marcus Blackwood was renowned for his corvid magic, and as Headmaster of one of the Four Pillars of the Empire, his battle prowess was unquestionable. There were very few people on the continent who could stand toe-to-toe with him, fewer still who could hope to defeat him.

And then there was the Emperor Emeritus… a Magus even more fearsome than Blackwood. With his sealing magic, it was rumored that he could contain anything that drew breath on this planet.

Fighting against these two monsters was very, very tricky. In fact, the cultists were not even sure if they could kill them with the four of them combined.

At the same time, Blackwood and Acadia were also not suited to fight battles like these—not to mention, while being outnumbered.

Blackwood excelled in battles where it was him against an army of relatively weaker foes. His magic had been shaped and refined for overwhelming control and battlefield dominance.

That wasn't to say he couldn't handle an opponent of equal strength. He could. But in such a duel, he was less efficient than a Magus whose magic focused purely on offense.

Gerald Acadia, on the other hand, was better suited for a supportive role in battle. His magic specialized in sealing and containment, designed not to destroy, but to suppress and control.

Where Blackwood carved through battlefields like a storm, Acadia was the force that neutralized threats before they could escalate. Together, they formed a devastating balance, and that was exactly how they were able to battle four cultists simultaneously.

But this deadlock wouldn't hold for much longer…

Several minutes ago, all six of them felt a very ominous and overbearing presence suddenly make itself known in the heart of the city.

When the cultists sensed this aura, their expressions twisted into cruel delight. As for Blackwood and Acadia, their faces turned completely ashen.

That aura… it belonged to a Mana Core Magus!

Moreover, this presence seemed to originate from the Uptown Quarter. Blackwood turned his head ever so slightly, his senses flooding the city behind him.

He locked on to the Mana Core Magus, his expression darkening as he muttered under his breath:

"Sabrina…"

His eyes flashed with unmatched fury when he sensed the Mana Core Magus inside the Benton Estate, and Sabrina's presence… he could no longer sense it.

"Don't lose yourself, Marcus." Gerald Acadia's calm, aged voice drifted into his ears, making the Headmaster of Saratoga turn back towards the enemies.

"Yes, you don't have to tell me," said the elderly Headmaster, his eyes cold and his tone indifferent.

Acadia cast a brief glance at him, and couldn't help but inwardly sigh. He turned his attention towards the four cultists, all of whom had triumphant looks on their faces, and asked coldly:

"That man… is your leader, yes? The Elder from the Inner Circle?"

One of the cultists laughed crookedly. "Ah, so what if he is?"

The cultists then slowly started to spread mid-air, trying to surround Blackwood and Acadia and begin yet another round of brutal combat.

But just as they did, something in the air shifted.

At once, all of them turned towards a distant snowy mountain peak. There, stood a lone figure of an old man with a muscular build. He wore black robes, and the snow around him seemed to be melting just from his presence alone. He had just arrived in this mountain range.

Noticing all six Mana Core Magi intently gaze at him, the dark-robed old man did not flinch one bit. Instead, he lazily yawned and scratched the back of his head. Then, his lips parted and he spoke in an extremely laid-back manner:

"Let's quickly get this over with, Marcus. If I'm not back home by sunrise, my great-granddaughter is going to be very, very upset."

Although he had said those words in a very soft voice, strangely enough, they echoed clearly in the ears of the Magi floating high up in the sky.

Suddenly, the dark-robed figure seemed to have sensed the silhouette of the Emperor Emeritus levitating right beside his friend, Marcus Blackwood.

Seeing the elderly man, who seemingly had one foot already in the grave, the dark-robed figure subconsciously straightened his back. "Old man! You're here too?!"

Acadia scoffed. "Black Fire Balthazar, how nice of you to finally join us."

The dark-robed old man, Balthazar, had nothing to say. He remained standing in an awkward position, glaring at his friend, Marcus, seemingly screaming at him:

'Why didn't you tell me the old man was also going to be here?!'

As the faces of the four cultists started to darken, Gerald Acadia turned to yet another distant mountain peak. His lips parted and he flatly said, "Silent King, are you ready?"

Suddenly, a small section of space rippled at that peak, as if a curtain of conealment had been pulled away, revealing a hunched back figure clad entirely in black. The only visisble feature beneath their robes was a pair of inky, unreadable eyes.

The Silent King spoke, their voice androgynous and low:

"Your Majesty, I do not dare to call myself King in your presence. And yes... I am ready."

Right at that moment, Black Fire whistled in surprise as he stared at the hunched back figure. Although there was a vast distance between them, he could still see them clearly.

"So the Silent King is real, eh?" He said, his voice tinged with barely suppressed astonishment. "I thought you were a ghost."

The Silent King turned towards him, then said evenly, "I am a ghost."

With that said, the Mana Core Magus known as the Silent King, the greatest assassin to have ever walked the lands of Ulier, completely vanished from existence… like a ghost.

No one could sense their presence!

Gerald Acadia then coldly glanced at the four cultists. Seeing their triumphant smirks disappear like the snow under the blazing sun, his eyes flickered with dark glee.

"Go ahead, Marcus. The three of us will take care of them."

The Headmaster did not waste any time. His body instantly dissipated into a murder of ravens, which burst into the air and rapidly streaked towards the city.

Soon, the city would be enveloped by ravens once again.

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