Magus Reborn [Stubbing in Three Weeks]

Kai had expected Killian to advance before they reached the treant. He had hoped for it, even planned around the possibility. But he hadn't thought it would happen mid-battle—right in the middle of the chaos.

Even after the fighting ended, the image remained vivid in everyone's minds. Soldiers who saw it first started whispering. By nightfall, it had become the story of the day—how one of their own rose like a storm-god, untouchable and fierce.

Kai heard the talk as they marched. Some called Killian a demi-god, others spoke of him with a mix of awe and disbelief. He understood the reverence. Unlike Kai or the other Mages who were very different from them, Killian felt like someone who had rose from among them.

It wasn’t common knowledge that Enforcers had two organs and had a separate pathway to cultivation. To the men, Killian’s strength seemed to be born of grit alone alongside whatever blessings Kai had given him for him to use magic. In truth, grit played a large part. Even with Kai's Enforcer manuals, strength wasn’t guaranteed. Talent, willpower, and relentless effort were still major deciding factors.

And Killian had plenty of all three.

The days ahead were hard. More breaks, more skirmishes—hour by hour, the land tested them. And through it all, Kai kept catching sight of Killian sitting with closed eyes, cultivating in quiet corners during every pause. He was stabilizing the third rank, and Kai didn’t disturb him. That newfound strength would matter soon. It might even turn the tide.

But Killian wasn’t the only ace he was counting on.

There was also Magus Elias.

When Elias told him they were only an hour away from where the treant lurked, Kai knew it was time. The conversation he’d been putting off had to happen now. A war council with just the Magus was what he wanted. Maybe it was preposterous to want a Magus to do his bidding as a Third Circle Mage, but Kai was a Magus himself, if not in circles and powers, he was, in knowledge.

He found Elias marching along the right flank, slightly ahead of the main line. The old Magus looked as calm as ever, robes dragging across the mossy ground.

Kai walked beside him and said, “If you’re free, I wish to discuss our roles in the battle.”

“Just us two? No full council?”

“The others know what to do,” Kai replied. “We prepared for this. The treant won’t give us time for a meeting when it shows itself.”

“So I’m the variable.”

“A good kind. I have something I need you to do—something only an Earth Mage can.” Kai said with a smile. His last words made Elias chuckle.

“I never imagined I’d be taking instructions from someone so young.”

“Age doesn’t matter. Knowledge does.”

Elias let out a deeper laugh at that. “Well, then tell me, have you studied the ways to bring down a treant?”

“I have,” Kai said firmly. “And I have a very specific role for you in it.”

“Oh?” Elias asked. He leaned toward Kai even while working, now interested in what he had to say. “And what might that be?”

“Do you know the fifth circle spell [Create Golem]?”

“I do. It’s not easy… but I can cast it.”

“Good,” Kai said without missing a beat. “I’ll need half a dozen of them.”

Elias stopped mid-step. “That’ll take a good chunk of my reserves.”

Kai reached into his satchel and pulled out a small glass vial. The potion inside shimmered faintly.

“This will fill it back up,” he said, handing it over. “The golems will be important.”

Elias took the vial, glancing at it before looking back at Kai with narrowed eyes. “You already have a few golems, don’t you?”

“They can’t dig underground,” Kai said simply. “I want you to modify the spell—to make them mining golems. But strong enough to hold their own like a regular earth golem.”

Elias slowed his pace as realization began to settle over him. His brow lifted. “You want them to hit the treant from beneath. Underground?”

Kai nodded. “Exactly.”

“That’s dangerous,” Elias muttered. “The roots will kill them instantly.”

“They’re not alive. That’s the point. All we need are distractions. There are thousands of roots. If your golems can keep even a few hundred busy, we’ll gain enough breathing room to strike.”

Elias exhaled, clearly thinking it through.

Before Elias could say something, Kai spoke up.

“I had other ways planned to distract the roots, but your earth golems will do better. And you’re the only one who can cast that spell.”

There was a pause. Elias tapped the rim of the potion bottle against his knuckles. “It won’t be easy,” he said eventually. “Modifying the spell will take effort, and even with this potion, I’ll be mentally drained after making that many.”

Kai looked ahead toward the supply column, where a few carts trundled slowly behind the soldiers. “That’s fine. After that, I just want you to act as a wall between the treant and the wagons.”

“The wagons?” Elias blinked and scoffed. “You want your strongest Mage to defend supply carts? That’s not a decision most commanders would agree with.”

“There’s a reason,” Kai said. “Your earth spells won’t hurt the treant as much as my flames. You’ve seen how it reacts to them. It hates fire. I need to stay mobile. You’ll hold the line.”

Elias slowly nodded, though the skepticism was still written on his face. “Do the wagons really matter that much? Food won’t help if everyone’s dead.”

“They don’t only carry food.”

“Then what do they carry?”

“You’ll see during the battle,” Kai said. “Just keep them safe. They’re our best chance at taking the treant down.”

For a moment, Elias looked genuinely confused. Kai could see the gears turning behind his expression. The man hadn’t paid much attention to the wagons—they’d been ordinary at a glance, covered and unremarkable. But inside them, Kai had stored what he hoped would turn the tide of the battle.

Weapons the treant had never seen before.

Rather than asking more on the wagons like Kai had suspected, Elias changed the subject when he spoke again, more softly this time. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been in war before. Not recently. It’s been decades. Maybe longer.”

Kai looked at him in surprise, but said nothing.

“I was a Second Circle War Mage back then,” Elias continued. “It was a campaign against the cave-dwellers. Vanderfall got tired of them, and decided to wipe them out. Full force.”

Kai didn’t interrupt. He had learned early on that when older men started talking about war, it was best to just listen. Most of the time, it wasn’t about the story—it was about remembering. Therefore, he stayed hushed and noticed the way Elias’s voice was even as he spoke.

“It was a brutal battle,” the old Magus said. “Lots of people I knew died. Friends, rivals. Hell, even the ones I didn’t like. And the whole time, through all the blood and chaos, I kept thinking one thing.”

Kai glanced at him. “What was that?”

Elias smirked. “That my commanding officer was a fucking idiot who didn’t know shit about strategy.”

Kai blinked. He had expected anything but that.

“He thought ‘Mage’ meant ‘blow things up,’” Elias went on, spitting his words with bitter amusement. “So he kept sending us in first—blast and die, blast and die. We lost more Mage in that campaign than in the last three wars before it combined.”

Kai didn’t quite know what to say.

“When I finally climbed the circles… when I became who I am now,” Elias said, “the first thing I did was find that man and punch him right in the face for being so damn incompetent.”

Kai hadn’t expected that ending. He raised an eyebrow. “And why are you telling me this?”

Elias gave him a look. “Just wondering if you’ll be someone I feel like punching after this battle too.”

Kai gave a half-smile. “I’ll probably feel the same… if something happens to those wagons.”

“Huh? Are you talking back to me?” Elias raised his brow. “Being this weak?”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Kai said. “The treant’s our focus.”

Elias studied him, then asked, “And after that? You think you’ll still have that attitude?”

“Maybe.” Kai shrugged. “You say I’m weak—but who knows if I really am? Could be arrogance… or competence.”

Elias didn’t reply, and Kai didn’t wait. He turned and walked away, leaving the older Mage to his thoughts. His part of the conversation was done. Elias wasn’t the type to take orders easily, but Kai had learned something about him during their battles. He might grumble, but if he respected your judgment, he’d follow through.

And over the course of this march, Elias had done just that. Without needing constant direction, he’d always ended up exactly where he was needed. Sometimes, that was the sign of a real veteran—not someone who barked orders, but someone who moved where the battle called.

Now, only the final confrontation remained.

The air had changed. Kai could feel it, and so could the soldiers. There was a tension in the way they moved, a quiet awareness and the absence of attack.

There were no roots that burst from the ground, or weavers attacking from the brush. The rest of the grasslands were eerily silent.

And that was the first sign that they were too close to the treant. Maybe it had finally decided to stop sending pawns. It had watched his minions fall and now probably wanted to act itself.

The wagons rolled quietly behind. Somewhere in them, his weapons waited. He just hoped the treant would hate what was coming for it as much as he intended.

Either it would bury them all… or they would burn it to ash. Kai was betting on the latter.

***

Kai had once come across the skeleton of a wyvern during his early years as a Mage. It was sprawled across an entire hill, its bones jutting from the earth like the ribs of a ruined fortress. Even in death, it had been massive—its skull alone large enough to fit a wagon inside. A necromancer's pet, he had learned, left to rot after its master was slain by someone even stronger. The story was old, the bones older, but the impression had stayed with him.

Back then, he had only just become a Second Circle Mage. That skeleton had felt like the largest thing in the world. Since then, he had grown, fought, and survived—seen monsters of every shape and scale. That awe of size had faded as he became stronger. But now, staring across the open land, that same feeling returned.

At the heart of a vast, cracked field, the treant stood. It wasn’t moving. fuck, it didn’t need to. The very earth around it felt like it was holding its breath.

It overshadowed everything—it was thick, bark-armored trunk rose high enough to challenge even the tallest trees of Sylvastra. Perhaps only the ancient Elder Tree surpassed it in height. Its branches stretched wide like outstretched arms, their limbs creaking. And for a moment Kai could swear that it was waiting for them, looking, and sensing every single movement.

With a quiet breath, Kai activated [Hawk Eye].

Instantly, his vision sharpened.

Every detail came into brutal clarity. The branches were crawling with life. Hundreds of weavers, twitching with anticipation, and smaller fiends nested in the boughs like carrion birds waiting to feed. His stomach churned at the amount of turned creatures that were under it.

Below, at the treant’s roots, even more stronger creatures waited. Grade 3s and even Grade 4 fiends—hulking brutes, sinewy beasts with jagged hides, eyes glowing with hunger. Any one of them would be a deadly encounter for a regular squad. There were dozens. And that wasn’t counting the roots hidden beneath the ground, poised to lash out the moment someone stepped too close.

Still, the treant didn’t move.

So Kai stood as well, giving his men time to take it in—time to feel the weight of what they were about to face. No one said anything. No one ran. But they all stood tall and simply took it all in.

Kai turned around, looking at everyone. For a moment, his breath hitched, but he inhaled through it—these men had placed their trust in him, shaped by months of training and shared hardship. They stood ready, willing to walk into death at a single command. But no—they wouldn’t be walking to their deaths. He had a plan. And now, he would honor the trust they had given him, raising his voice so his words reached every soul on the field.

“The time is here.”

They all turned to him, waiting.

“We’ve traveled a long way,” he said, “A long fucking way. We crossed forest and field, climbed hills and carved through beasts. We did it without stopping—without sleep, without rest—for one and one reason alone.”

He raised a hand toward the treant.

“To face the thing responsible for everything. For the rot. For the dead. For the poison in the soil. For the lives lost in Vanderfall and beyond.”

He stepped forward, voice rising with conviction.

“And now it stands before us. A treant… and its army. Look at that!”

Some clenched their weapons tighter. Others glanced toward the sky, whispering prayers. Kai continued. If this moment counted, he had to be real with them, about what he truly felt and what he could see in their eyes. So he spoke with his heart.

“I know you're afraid. I am too. No one looks at that thing and feels nothing. But courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s choosing to fight in spite of it. And we are strong. We are brave. And today, we burn that monster to the ground. For the glory of the kingdom,” he shouted, “and the light of our goddess, Lumaris!”

A cheer broke through the silence—raw, shaky, but growing louder by the second. Their fear hadn’t vanished, but it was no longer out of control.

Kai spotted Magus Elias standing off to the side, calmly clapping with a faint smirk on his face. Behind him, six massive earth golems—freshly formed over the past two days—had already begun digging. Their stone-hewn arms tore into the dirt with steady rhythm, vanishing underground like ancient guardians returning to the earth. Kai gave the old Magus a brief nod, hoping the man would stay true to his word.

Then his eyes found Killian. They shared a look. No words. Just understanding. Kai raised his voice, loud and clear for all to hear.

“Let’s begin the final march to glory!”

At once, the troops stirred.

The soldiers and the clerical knights of the church surged forward, falling into practiced formations. Killian took the lead, his lightning-clad figure a beacon at the front line. The air grew tense, heavy with magic and anticipation as Mages across the lines began shaping spells, runes lighting up beneath their palms, glowing symbols arcing through the air.

But they didn’t rush. They advanced slowly. Measured steps. Waiting and watching.

And then, there was movement.

Dozens of weavers screeched and leapt from the branches of the treant, their limbs twitching unnaturally. Fiends howled and pounded across the field, claws raking the ground as they built up to a full charge.

Kai didn’t flinch. Neither did Killian.

“Drones—now!” Killian ordered.

At his word, four gleaming constructs whirred to life from behind the front lines, shooting out toward the oncoming horde. The enemy forces didn’t hesitate. They barreled toward the drones like animals sensing prey—ignorant of the death they were running into.

That was the advantage of fighting something new. They had no idea what they were facing. The drones zigzagged across the battlefield, drawing in more and more weavers and fiends like bait.

Kai waited. Just a bit more. Then—he gave the order. The ground quaked.

All four drones exploded in a fiery blaze, the shockwaves tearing through the gathered enemy with devastating force. Blackened earth cracked open. Limbs and gore flew in every direction as the air filled with the smell of burning flesh and scorched rot. The explosions had landed square in the middle of the densest clusters of the enemy, cutting their numbers by a quarter within seconds.

Across the field, Kai caught sight of Elias watching with wide eyes, stunned by the brutal efficiency of the strategy. But there was no time for admiration.

The ground began to tremble.

Elias’s eyes snapped toward the treant and he shouted, “Prepare yourselves! The roots are coming!”

Then they came. Roots. Not one, not two, not hundred, but thousands of them!

Thick, gnarled, and writhing, they shot into the air and smashed down with terrifying force.

Kai reacted instantly, hurling a blazing firestorm toward the nearest roots. To his side, Mages unleashed a mix of elemental fury—ice, flame, lightning, earth—colliding with the roots mid-air. Each blast forced them back, but only for a moment. More and more of the roots came.

Bishop Maurice raised his staff and sent a ray of searing light slicing through the writhing mass. Some of the gunners joined him and fired explosive rounds to buy time. It helped—but not enough.

For every root destroyed, two more emerged. From the left, from the right, from right beneath their feet. The real battle had begun. And the treant wasn’t holding back anymore.

Kai’s eyes snapped toward the front.

“Get it out,” he said.

Killian didn’t hesitate. “Now!” he barked over his shoulder.

At once, the signal passed down the line. The Enforcers, who had been guarding the wagons pulled all the way from the plague lands, sprang into motion. The supply carts—three of them, bulky and reinforced with metal plating—were dragged to the center of the formation, past startled footmen and Mages who turned to stare.

With a mechanical hiss, the roof of the lead wagon split open.

Out of the wagon rose a weapon.

A gleaming mana cannon, its barrel long and curved with precision-forged runes glowing down its length. This was no crude prototype. This was the culmination of months of work.

It gleamed under the pale sky like a divine relic. Its rotating base allowed it to turn like a turret, and its upgraded core pulsed with concentrated energy drawn directly from aetheum stones.

The treant, looming in the distance, seemed to sense the shift. Its branches trembled. Its roots surged faster, angrier.

But it was too late.

“Fire!” Killian shouted.

The cannon ignited with a sound that shook the air.

BOOOOM—!!

A lance of pure mana and flame erupted from the barrel, cutting across the battlefield like a god’s fury. The beam struck the incoming roots just seconds before they could slam into the front lines. A massive explosion followed.

Kai’s vision went white for a brief second.

***

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