Published at 20th of June 2026 8:26 am

Chapter 1817 The Final Blow

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Against all odds, the Mana Core Magi of Tron emerged victorious.

Ironically, they had suffered the highest number of casualties among the Mana Core Magi. Several of their strongest combatant had fallen, while many others were left gravely injured.

And yet, despite those losses, they had prevailed.

Across the vast battlefield, most of the Mana Core-level engagements had ended in victory for the Allied Forces. One by one, the devils had been defeated, slain, or forced into retreat.

Those who survived quickly realized that the tide of battle had turned against them. Rather than continue a losing fight, several Mana Core-level devils abandoned the battlefield altogether and fled.

Such behavior was hardly surprising. Devils were, by nature, selfish and calculating creatures. Loyalty was a foreign concept to most of them. Every alliance, every promise, and every act of cooperation existed only so long as it benefited them. They valued their own survival above all else.

When victory seemed possible, they would fight with ruthless determination. But the moment the scales tipped against them, self-preservation took precedence over everything else.

To a devil, there was little shame in retreating from a losing battle. Dead men could not pursue power, and devils coveted power above all else.

As a result, once it became clear that the Allied Forces had gained the upper hand, many of the surviving Mana Core-level devils wasted no time in abandoning the battlefield.

After all, in the eyes of the devil, another opportunity would always present itself.

The greatest blow to their forces, and the primary reason for their retreat, was the defeat and subsequent capture of Volgron.

As the last surviving commander of the invasion force, his presence had served as a pillar holding the devils together. His strength, authority, and reputation had given them confidence that victory was only a matter of time.

And for a while, that belief had been justified.

When it came to the battles involving the Mana Vortex Magi and those below, the devils and the cultists were clearly gaining the upper hand. Across many sections of the great labyrinth, the Allied Forces were being steadily pushed back and suffering heavy losses. It was brutal.

But the situation at the Mana Core level told a different story. As the elite combatants fell, the others were forced to retreat. The numerical advantage they once enjoyed rapidly disappeared.

The final blow had been Volgron's defeat. Worse still, he was captured alive by the Allied Forces' commanders. In an instant, morale collapsed.

The invasion had not yet completely failed, as in the grand scheme of the war, the cultists and the devils were still winning. But the moment Volgron was captured and the Mana Core-level cultists began reporting the loss of their mysterious connection to the Cult Leader, any realistic hope of victory died with it.

After having secured their victory over their enemies, the Mana Core Magi of the Allied Forces split into two groups.

The majority headed toward the great labyrinth to assist the lesser Magi and bring an end to the needless slaughter of their soldiers.

The agreement regarding Mana Core Magi not interfering in the lesser Magi's battle had become null now. Who was going to stop the Allied Forces' Mana Core Magi?

A smaller group, however, quickly rushed toward the battlefield where Adam and the Cult Leader had clashed. They needed to understand exactly what the cultists meant when they claimed to have "lost connection" to their master.

As for the duel between the Acadian Emperor and the Hidden Ruler of Yen-Lu… surprisingly, the former had explicitly demanded that no one interfere in their battle. And so their battle raged on.

When the small group of Magi arrived at the battlefield where Adam and the Cult Leader had initially fought, they were thunderstruck.

"What… just what the hell happened here?!"

Goro Tsuitsui, heavily injured but still radiating a powerful aura, couldn't believe his eyes. The sheer carnage in front of him was simply astonishing.

Thousands upon thousands of corpses littered the landscape. Undead creatures lay strewn across the broken land, mixed among them were remains of serpents big and small that had been summoned during the battle.

The ground itself had been transformed beyond recognition. Charred craters dotted the landscape, serving as remnants of devastating spells.

It looked less like a battlefield and more like the aftermath of a natural disaster.

The Magi exchanged stunned glances. All of them thought the same thing:

Just how intense had the battle between the Dark King and the Cult Leader been?

"Val?" Anna's expression was pale from exhaustion and mana depletion. But she still forced herself to move around to look for her little brother.

On her shoulder perched a little gray cat.

"He's on Tron," said Valerian with certainty.

"That I'm sure of! The familiar connection I share with Brother is strong, so he's still alive. But… he's far away."

The Hermit's elderly voice echoed. "There."

He pointed toward the horizon. Far in the distance, a massive plume of smoke rose into the air, as though it was a pillar of ash and despair. Even from so far away, the Magi could sense the lingering aura of destruction emanating from that location.

What truly drew their attention, however, was the sky above it. The clouds had been torn apart. A vast gap stretched across the heavens, as though some overwhelming force had split the sky itself.

The clouds refused to drift back together, leaving behind a clear scar that remained visible even now. It was almost as if the heavens themselves were afraid to draw near that place.

As the Magi drew closer, they felt a bloody, tyrannical, and ominous presence lingering in the air. The residual energy was so violent and erratic that they instinctively wrapped themselves in mana to shield their bodies from the influence.

Soon, the source of the disturbance came into view.

A gigantic crater over two hundred meters wide and a hundred meters deep dominated the landscape. The sheer scale of destruction was unimaginable. Even the earlier graveyard of undead and serpents paled in comparison.

It was unlike anything the Magi had ever witnessed. The earth had been completely pulverized. Not a single trace of the original terrain remained.

And at the very center of the crater lay a motionless figure.

The Magi rushed toward the unmoving figure. When they finally arrived, a myriad of complicated emotions surfaced on their faces.

Nylian silently arrived before the figure. "It's him," he muttered softly.

He knelt beside the figure and checked for a pulse. A moment later, he heaved a long sigh and turned toward Daniel.

"He's dead…"

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