Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2615: Spirit Master

For Kronos to execute one of their own before millions of spectators was a brutal display of dominance. Ruthless and unapologetic.

And yet, the citizens of Olympus barely flinched.

There was no outrage. No mourning. Only thunderous cheers and unwavering support for Zeus and the Kronos faction. Their loyalty was total, their reverence blind.

Without delay, Iris and Hermes took to the center of the coliseum once more, basking in the electric atmosphere and stoking it further.

“The score is now one for Kronos, and one for Earth!” Iris shouted, her voice ringing across the arena.

“Yes! And now,” Hermes raised his arms dramatically, “let us welcome Kronos’ second fighter!”

The crowd erupted.

From the gleaming gate on the Kronos side emerged a tall, slender man, his every step drawing attention. He had bronzed skin and shoulder-length white hair that fluttered as he walked. But it was his eyes—silvery-blue and glowing faintly—that silenced the spectators. A chilling, celestial light swirled within them.

His presence alone carried weight.

A ripple of unease passed through the Earth faction’s viewing platform.

Gasps swept through the Earth faction. “They’re sending him this early?” murmured Julian.

It was Morpheus, an elder of the Kronos faction. A Full Moon Realm magus—just one step away from the Cosmic Realm. His presence distorted the air itself.

Klea reacted immediately. Her eyes narrowed. Gwen was still wounded and drained from her fight against Hades. To pit her against a monster like Morpheus would be suicide.

She raised her hand and called for her surrender. Her decision was swift, necessary.

From the arena floor, Gwen looked up, frustrated but obedient.

The announcers pounced on the moment like wolves.

“Ahhh, that’s disappointing… isn’t it, Iris?” Hermes asked, feigning sympathy.

“Very disappointing, Hermes,” Iris replied. “Morpheus hasn’t even reached the center of the arena and they’re already surrendering.”

Mocking laughter swept the coliseum like wildfire.

“I hope their next challenger shows a little guts.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Iris said. “Elder Morpheus is a powerfull senior enforcer who has captured and defeated hundreds of Magus Realm experts. The Earth faction has to send their absolute best to make this match a bit interesting to watch.”

When Gwen returned to the Earth faction’s corner, her allies greeted her with warm smiles and quiet nods of respect for defeating Hades. But Gwen herself looked far from relieved. Her brows furrowed, her gaze flickering toward the jeering crowds. The laughter and mockery still echoed in the coliseum.

“You should’ve let me fight,” she muttered, “I could have at least gauged his strength.”

Klea shook her head firmly. “Not this one. I won’t risk it.”

She didn’t need to explain further. The intelligence gathered by Jinkan made things clear—Morpheus wasn’t just another powerful magus. He was a spirit master, and a terrifying one. He didn’t rely on brute force or flashy elemental spells. His battlefield was the soul. He broke enemies from the inside out—shattering their minds, suffocating their thoughts, and unraveling their wills before a blade ever fell.

Without hesitation, Klea turned toward the rest of the group. Her expression softened into a faint, knowing smile. “Looks like I’m fighting earlier than planned.”

This wasn’t a spontaneous decision. It was part of the strategy.

From the beginning, the Earth faction had reserved one name to face Morpheus. Hers. Among all their champions, Klea was the only one with the strength, discipline, and spiritual defenses to stand a chance.

“Do your best,” Julian said gently, his voice tinged with concern. “But don’t force it. Pull out if it’s too much.”

Klea raised an eyebrow. “Wow… no faith in me?” she said with a smirk, then stepped forward with firm resolve. “Just watch. I’ll win.”

She turned and walked alone toward the center of the arena.

The crowd’s cheers erupted once more—though this time tinged with ridicule.

“Another woman?” someone scoffed. “Is Earth ruled by females?”

“Where are the men?” another shouted. “Too busy powdering their skirts?”

Thrax’s jaw tightened. His hands balled into fists, knuckles whitening. But Julian reached out and held him back.

At the heart of the arena, Klea stopped in front of her opponent.

Morpheus was already waiting.

He stood motionless, towering and statuesque. His face revealed nothing. No anger. No arrogance. Just those glowing, pale-blue eyes—shimmering like liquid silver under moonlight. There was something unnatural in the way they rippled, as if they looked not at Klea’s body, but straight through to her soul.

A subtle pressure hung in the air. Not heavy like a hammer—no, it was more insidious. Like mist creeping into the lungs.

Klea felt her breath slow, her pulse steady.

Across the coliseum, Hermes raised his hand high and shouted, his voice booming like thunder:

“Let the third match… BEGIN!”

The moment Hermes signaled the start of the match, Klea didn’t wait a heartbeat.

Her spirit force erupted—an invisible shockwave rolled through the coliseum as her aura ignited like wildfire. Sword in hand, she vanished from sight, a blur of motion tearing across the stage.

This was one of her most dangerous techniques—[Spirit Explosion], a high-power spell that burned through her spirit reserves for a sudden, overwhelming strike.

Her sword surged with triple elemental fury: the crushing momentum of water, the crackling speed of lightning, and the slicing edge of wind. All three forces twisted around her sword in a spiraling helix, honed by her mastery of Dao.

She was trying to finish the fight before it could begin.

BOOOOM!!!

A shockwave split the air. Dust and smoke engulfed the stage. The entire crowd gasped as stone cracked and energy surged like a living storm.

As the dust slowly cleared, silence fell.

Floating above the arena, Klea hovered in mid-air—her sword pressed against Morpheus’ forehead. A crimson drop of blood rolled down from the point of contact.

But that was all. Just a drop.

Between her blade and his skull, a faint silver shimmer pulsed—a thin spirit barrier had formed in the final instant. Enough to dull her strike.

Then came the retaliation.

A pulse of pure mental power screamed from Morpheus’ body like a sonic wave.

BAMMM!

Klea was hurled backward, crashing across the arena like a ragdoll. She flipped midair, boots skidding against the ground, her teeth clenched hard. Her chest heaved—but her eyes stayed locked on him.

Still standing. Still untouched.

Most would hesitate. She didn’t.

Klea raised her hand again and, for the second time, detonated her spirit energy.

[Spirit Explosion!]

Another surge of power ripped through her body. Her veins glowed faintly with spirit light. Her skin shimmered from the overload. And this time, she didn’t go alone.

Three clones—rippling forms of water shaped like her—emerged around her in a flash. Each bore her face, her blade, and a fragment of her power.

Four of them surged forward from four directions in perfect harmony.

Even Morpheus’ brow twitched.

He turned slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing. His divine sense scanned the clones.

“Not an illusion,” he muttered. “Interesting.”

He raised his hand. Just one. His fingers pulsed with inner power.

Then—a wave of mental force exploded outward from him, invisible and silent, but devastating.

The clones never reached him.

They splashed back into water mid-charge, reduced to puddles as their spirit structures unraveled under the crushing pressure of his soul domain.

And the real Klea?

Her sword was suddenly caught between two fingers.

Held still. Unmoving.

She gasped.

“You came in strong,” Morpheus said, his voice low and cold. “But is that really all you’ve got?”

With a flick of his wrist, her blade cracked—shattered into glowing shards.

The shockwave sent Klea flying again, her boots scraping across the stone floor as she struggled to stay upright. Her knees buckled slightly. Her breath came fast.

The crowd watched with breathless silence. Some laughed. Others stared, stunned by Morpheus’ casual defense.

Morpheus’ blue eyes gleamed like moons. “I wonder,” he said, almost playfully, “how long you can keep this up…”

He wasn’t wrong. [Spirit Explosion] was no ordinary technique. Two uses, and already her reserves were dangerously low. Her breaths grew ragged. Sweat trickled down her brow.

But then… she smiled.

From her storage ring, she pulled out a small, crystalline shard. She crushed it in her palm.

A burst of radiant light surged into her chest.

Klea’s spirit pool flared back to life—refreshed, reinvigorated. She straightened her back and rolled her shoulders as if nothing had happened.

Then drew a second sword, gleaming with layered enchantments.

She grinned at Morpheus.

“I can do this all day.”

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