Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe-Chapter 1619: Dark King’s Banner

Two days later.

The entire city of Ravenfell had come to life.

From the early hours of the morning, people poured out of their homes and gathered along the main avenue.

The streets were packed shoulder to shoulder as citizens lined the road to witness the departure of the warriors who would march to war.

At the front of the procession rode the Dark King.

Adam sat atop a powerful black destrier, his cape fluttering behind him as the horse strode steadily through the avenue. His grand presence alone commanded the attention of every eye in the city.

Behind him rode Anna on a white horse, holding Valerian in her arms as they followed closely.

And behind them...

Fifty of the Black Legion’s finest Mana Vortex Magi rode in disciplined formation. Their armor gleamed beneath the morning sun, their posture straight and resolute as they marched.

On both sides of the road, and from the balconies of the towering buildings above, countless people watched the procession. Many threw handfuls of flower petals into the air, letting them drift down upon the departing warriors.

At the head of the procession, a new banner rose above the marching warriors.

It was a banner that none in Ravenfell — or the Empire, for that matter — had ever seen before.

A deep black standard fluttered proudly in the wind, and upon it was emblazoned a single symbol...

A white daffodil.

This was the banner of the Dark King.

The symbol on the banner held a meaning deeply personal to Adam. The white daffodil was the flower he remembered his mother by. To him, it always symbolized hope.

Among the crowd were Magi from the great factions of the Empire, most of whom had come to Ravenfell for Adam’s public hearing and had stayed to witness the aftermath. The students and faculty of Saratoga Castle were also present, standing among the gathered masses.

All of them watched in silent awe as the unfamiliar banner waved proudly above the marching warriors, heralding the beginning of the Dark King’s campaign.

By now, most of the Magi already knew that Adam would be visiting the major factions of the Empire during his march south, gathering brave and powerful warriors for the coming war. Word had already reached every corner of the continent.

Across the Empire, many factions had already begun preparing. Some had even organized tournaments and trials to determine which among their ranks would earn the honor of marching beneath the Dark King’s banner.

For countless Magi, fighting alongside Adam Constantine was no longer just a duty.

It was a privilege worth competing for!

Over the last two days, Adam had also quietly put his affairs in order.

He visited old friends and acquaintances, spending a little time with each of them before his departure.

Some conversations were lighthearted, others were heavy with unspoken emotions, but he made sure to see them all.

He also met with his three disciples. Convincing them to stay in Ravenfell had not been easy. Each of them had insisted on following him to war, and it took considerable effort before they reluctantly agreed to stay behind.

Adam also paid a visit to the students of Saratoga. There, he gave a short speech, words of encouragement for the next generation of Magi who would one day inherit the responsibility of protecting the castle and the city. And perhaps... even the world.

And once all that was done, he was finally ready to leave.

As the southern gates of Ravenfell slowly came into view, Adam couldn’t help but reflect on how different things had been only a month ago.

Back then, the people lining these very streets had booed him, cursed him, and hurled insults as he passed by.

But now...

Those same people stood watching with tears in their eyes, praying for his safety and wishing him success in the war ahead.

Fate could be a fickle thing sometimes.

Near the southern gates, the Lord of Ravenfell, Nylian Feno, patiently waited for the procession to arrive.

At last, he stood beside Adam’s destrier and said with a gentle smile, "The other Great Pillars will be ready for you when you arrive, and so will the other major arcane factions across the lands."

He paused for a moment.

"The entire Empire is watching you, Adam, so... try not to drink too much, okay?"

Adam laughed.

"I’ll try my best, Headmaster."

Nylian shook his head, sighing helplessly.

"Go." He gestured toward the gates. "Lead us to glory."

Adam’s lips curled into a faint smile. "See you on the other side."

Under heavy fanfare, Adam rode through the southern gates of Ravenfell, the procession following behind him in steady formation.

The people of the city remained gathered along the streets for a long time, watching the departing warriors with tearful eyes as they bid them farewell.

Many children ran out beyond the gates, chasing after the horses with wide smiles and excited shouts.

Slowly, the riders grew smaller in the distance.

Until at last, the procession disappeared beyond the horizon...

*** 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

Indus Continent.

The capital city of the Vasuran Empire lay in ruins.

Collapsed buildings lined the streets, and the once-bustling avenues were now filled with the undead. Zombies wandered aimlessly through the rubble, ghouls stalked in the shadows, and skeletal soldiers marched through the broken city.

At the center of it all stood the ruined imperial palace. Its once magnificent halls had long since crumbled. Cracks ran across the walls, and torn banners hung lifelessly from the pillars.

The grand throne room was no different. Dust and debris covered the floor, and the stained glass windows had shattered long ago.

Upon the broken throne sat... Marden Benton.

He leaned back against the cracked stone seat, his expression calm and unreadable as he looked down upon the figures before him.

Two Mana Core Magi and a dozen Mana Vortex Magi knelt on the ruined floor, their heads lowered as they delivered their report to the Elder of the Inner Circle, feared across the lands as the Blood Lord.

"...The reports have confirmed it, my lord," the lead Mana Core-level cultist said in a trembling voice.

"The Flame Lord is dead," he continued, his tone dripping with shock and horror. "And so are the six other Mana Core Magi that had gone with him."

Marden’s eyes narrowed, his pupils gleaming with hints of madness and surprise.

"All of them?" He asked with a frown.

"Y-Yes, my lord."

"And what of the killers?" Marden pressed.

The Magus gulped. "All of their Soulmark Lanterns point to one person. A-And... he’s still in the Acadian Empire."

He paused for a moment, then said in a trembling voice.

"I-It was the Dark King!"

Marden’s pupils constricted.

And then...

His lips curled into a wide, crazed grin.