SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS-Chapter 757: Dominating The Battlefield!

As the first sliver of moonlight painted the battlefield in silver and shadows, the war erupted in full force.

"Boom… Boom… Boom…"

The air cracked with the sound of spells clashing, a chaotic symphony of light and darkness tearing through the night. \\

From the west side of the demon castle, an ocean of human warriors charged forward, their swords gleaming with holy enchantments, their battle cries thundering across the land.

From the east, a swarm of demons, cloaked in abyssal mist, surged in an unstoppable tide, their twisted voices chanting spells that warped the very fabric of reality.

But suddenly a barrage of dark spells, darker than demon spells erupted from the human army. They were set by the women of the Thirteen Elders.

Moving like dancers on a stage, their elegant robes fluttered as their fingertips traced the air, forbidden spells pouring from their lips like poetry. Their laughter rang out—soft, amused, delighted—as if they were playing a child’s game rather than tearing apart an army.

One of them, a woman with hair as dark as midnight, raised her hand. A crimson pattern formed beneath her feet, rotating faster and faster.

"Poor little demons, let me show you something beautiful~" she whispered.

Then—the ground split apart.

Hundreds of demons screamed as the earth beneath them became a vortex of collapsing space, their bodies twisted and pulled into oblivion, their shrieks lost to eternity.

Another Elder giggled, watching as black tendrils crawled up her arm. Forbidden mana surged through her body—but there was no backlash. The laws of magic dictated that wielding forbidden power came at a cost, yet tonight… tonight was different.

"Fascinating, isn’t it?" she murmured, her lips curving in a smile as she unleashed a thousand spectral blades, cutting down demons like wheat before the scythe.

The battlefield was chaos.

Demons retaliated, their twisted magic turning the air into liquid poison, conjuring colossal beasts with skin of molten rock, summoning the spirits of the damned to claw at the living. The skies burned as hellfire rained down, yet the human army pressed forward, undaunted, unrelenting.

The land trembled under the weight of their war.

Amidst the raging battlefield, Phillip stood untouched, his black cloak billowing in the wind, his golden eyes watching with quiet calculation. He did not lift his staff, did not engage. He simply observed.

And then—he moved his hand.

A silent order. A command.

His four generals scattered in four directions, their tasks clear.

In the north, to kill sword master Elarin, the Silver Fang, led her elite warriors, carving a direct path into the demon army. Her dual blades flashed like twin comets, severing heads and limbs, slicing through enchanted flesh as if it were paper.

To the south, the Zi God Dragon Ancestor, descended with a roar that shattered the very air. His presence alone was devastation—his body, clad in scales harder than the finest steel, his claws capable of splitting mountains. The moment he unleashed his dragon breath, the very land beneath the demons melted into rivers of fire.

In the west, Madam Clark, the Nightblade Mistress, vanished into the shadows. Where she walked, demons fell, their throats slit before they could even sense her presence. A ghost of the battlefield, a whisper of death.

The demon general stood at the center of the battlefield, his six red eyes burning with fury.

"You pathetic mortals dare challenge us?!"

With a deafening roar, he brought his axe down, sending a shockwave through the battlefield, sending human knights and mages flying like ragdolls.

And yet—before he could take another breath—

A golden claw struck through his chest.

Zi’s claws tore the demon in two, his massive body collapsing into a heap, his abyssal blood boiling the very ground. The battlefield roared in triumph.

"Ooouuu…" The beast army under the dragon ancestor roared in excitement.

Phillip frowned.

’This… was wrong.’

’The humans should have been struggling, barely keeping up with the overwhelming magic of the demons. But instead, they were fighting with unbelievable vigor, their attacks faster, stronger, endless.’

It took him only a moment to understand.

"Natural mana…" he whispered.

The land itself was pouring energy into them. Their spells, which should have drained them, instead rejuvenated them. The usual limits of magic—the fatigue, the mana depletion—it was gone.

A mistake.

A miscalculation. Now Phillip understood the real deal… This is the main reason for Kent to shift the battlefield.

Phillip’s lips pressed into a thin line. If the humans had endless magic, then he needed to even the odds.

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Raising his hand, he summoned the ghosts.

A low, mournful wail echoed across the battlefield.

The shadows deepened. The air grew heavy.

The corpses of the fallen began to twitch.

And then, they rose.

A vast legion of spectral warriors—souls of the damned, bound in eternal servitude. They clawed at the humans, their whispers sending shivers through even the bravest warriors.

Phillip finally stepped forward.

Wherever he walked, humans collapsed. A mere flick of his wrist sent entire squadrons into the abyss. His blade danced, effortless, slicing through enchanted armor as though it was nothing more than silk.

The human army, for the first time, staggered.

And then—

"No more."

A Divine light surged as arrow rain fell on the ghosts. A golden light exploded in the battlefield, rippling through the darkness like an unstoppable wave. The entire ghost army disappeared at once.

Phillip froze.

He turned—just in time to see Kent standing amidst the battlefield, his entire being glowing with celestial energy.

To kill Phillip, Kent did not raise his bow. He did not need to. His chakra alone moved like a living force, hunting Phillip, chasing him, forching him.

Phillip took a step back. For the first time, he felt it—a presence greater than his own.

A predator had entered the battlefield.

And it was hunting him.

Phillip vanished in a flicker of shadow, his presence disappearing from the war.

-

The war continued with demon generals and demon army vanishing like insects. No one expected the war would be one side… and that too on the Human side.

The first light of dawn crept across the battlefield.

A strange, inhuman sound echoed across the battlefield—a command from Phillip.

The demons began to fall back, retreating into the castle’s towering gates, their shadows disappearing behind the fortress walls.

The human army cheered, ready to chase them—but Kent raised his hand, immediately stopping the advance.

The warriors halted. Confused.

"Do not enter the castle… retreat and get ready for the next attack." Kent said, his voice calm, yet firm.

The soldiers exchanged glances, unsure why. Victory was within reach. The enemy was weakened. Why not finish it now?

But Kent’s golden eyes never left the castle.

"The real battle… has yet to begin. Come out… Phillip."