Magus Supremacy

HUFFF!

HUFF!

PUFF!

PUFF!

"Oh, come on! Why is this damned cliff so high?!" Grey shouted in frustration, his voice echoing against the rocky walls as he clung to the cliffside alongside Thalos. His fingers ached from gripping the stone, but he refused to let go.

Glancing up, he could still see the thick fog swirling above them, masking the remaining height they still had to conquer.

"Aren't you a stage two warrior? Why are you complaining? Just keep climbing." Thalos scoffed without even looking back, his body moving with smooth, practiced motions as he ascended, leaving Grey lagging behind.

"Oh, aren't you a stage two warrior? Why are you complaining? Just keep climbing," Grey mumbled under his breath in a sarcastic tone, pulling a mocking face. "Like hell it's that easy."

"Then jump back down and go live in the cave. Stop complaining and making my ears bleed," Thalos grumbled as he continued climbing rapidly, his hands finding perfect grips on the jagged rocks.

"Tch!" Grey clicked his tongue and pushed on. Planting one foot firmly on a protruding stone, he glanced up.

Channeling his Ki, he drove his fingers deep into a small crack in the cliff's surface. In one smooth motion, he pulled himself up, crossing over a full meter with a single heave of his arms.

'I wonder what I'm going to tell the academy instructors about where I've been all this time… and how I ended up falling down this cliff in the first place,' Grey thought as he continued his careful climb, every motion deliberate.

At certain intervals, he would pull himself up with one arm, closing large distances quickly, but the effort was brutal. One slip would mean tumbling all the way down—a fall he doubted even Ki could save him from.

'I can't tell on those descendants. What's the point? They'd get a slap on the wrist and walk away laughing. No… I can't let that happen. That would be far too easy for them.'

His foot landed on another stone protruding from the cliff, but this one shifted under his weight. It rattled loose and tumbled down with a clattering sound. His balance wavered for an instant, and his heart pounded.

But his instincts kicked in—almost as though he had foreseen it and he kicked against the cliffside, launching himself sideways. He landed near the gargoyle, who was still climbing above him.

Grey wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his teeth clenched.

'That's far too light of a punishment. I want them to suffer. I want them to kneel before me, begging for mercy they will never receive. They should feel the agony I felt when my hand was mangled. They should taste the terror of facing a foe they cannot defeat.

I will make them fear every second of their existence. I will keep punishing them until death itself feels like a blessing. Only when they've bled every drop and spent every ounce of strength will I grant them release. That's my promise.'

"I… I think I can sense the end of the cliff already," Thalos' voice snapped Grey out of his thoughts. The gargoyle's pace quickened, his movements becoming more aggressive.

"Huh?" Grey blinked, then a renewed surge of determination flooded his veins. He poured Ki into his limbs and began climbing with fresh vigor. The fog above them was thinning now, giving way to sunlight.

Moments later, the top of the cliff came into view. In one graceful leap, Thalos vaulted upward and landed on solid ground. Grey followed behind, panting heavily, his muscles screaming in protest as he dragged himself over the edge.

Finally, his boots met the soft grass, and he let out a long, shaky breath.

Instantly, Grey dropped onto the ground, his chest rising and falling in heavy bursts while his hands throbbed and ached from the climb.

Each pulse of pain felt like it had sunk deep into the bone, but he welcomed the chance to breathe. Thalos, on the other hand, showed no signs of exhaustion.

He turned in slow circles, scanning and examining their surroundings with a curious gleam in his hazel-green eyes.

It turned out they were in some sort of forest. Tall trees stretched high above them, their branches forming a canopy that filtered the sunlight into scattered beams.

Grass and thick undergrowth carpeted the forest floor, swaying gently with the breeze. Somewhere in the distance, faint rustling could be heard—small beasts hopping, scurrying, and prancing about unseen.

"Where is this place? I thought we were heading to the academy," Thalos asked, still scanning the treeline as if expecting something to leap out at them.

"This… this is the academy's hunting ground," Grey replied after catching his breath. "We were stationed here for our assessment, hunting beasts. That's when a few jealous descendants decided to attack me—and hurl me down the cliff." His voice tightened slightly at the memory.

As Grey pushed himself upright, he turned to look back toward the cliff's edge. The image of his near-death fall replayed sharply in his mind. He exhaled slowly and shook his head, forcing the memory aside.

When he turned again, Thalos was still in his human form, his hands buried casually in his pockets as if none of this concerned him.

"So… how do we get to the academy now?" Thalos asked.

Before Grey could answer, a sudden whooshing sound cut through the quiet air.

Instantly, both of them were on guard. A sword shimmered into Grey's grip, his stance low and ready. Thalos' dagger—once a great sword appeared in his hand as he adjusted his footing, eyes narrowing toward the source of the sound.

The air began to hum faintly. Then came a crackling noise, sharp and electric. Barely two meters ahead of them, the forest floor lit up as a blinding white light began to spread outward, its glow intensifying until it hurt to look directly at it.

"What is going on?" Thalos whispered, his voice low and tense.

"Do I know? Aren't we here together? It might be an attack," Grey whispered back. His grip on the sword tightened, the weight of the weapon steadying his breathing. His gaze stayed fixed on the light, every muscle ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

The light slowly receded, and a shape began to form within it—a humanoid outline sharpening with every second. As the brilliance faded entirely, the figure came into full view.

A man stood before them, muscles carved by years of battle pressing against the fitted combat gear he wore. A crimson scarf fluttered behind him in the breeze, flowing like the banner of a victorious general returning from war.

Two longswords hung at his waist, each resting inside an obsidian-black sheath. His ash-blonde hair was swept neatly back, revealing a sharply defined brow and a pair of eyes that burned with molten amber—restless, watchful, and aware of every flaw in those they observed.

At the sight of this person, Grey's tension melted. His sword vanished in a quick flash, replaced by a look of recognition. The man's lips curled into a faint, knowing grin.

"I… I know you," Grey murmured, studying the man's face.

"Welcome back, Grey. It's good to see you alive," the man replied, his tone warm but steady, a small smile softening the edge of his presence.