SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

The winds howled softly over the no man’s island, a barren, desolate stretch of land that had long been forgotten by the people of the Seventh Realm.

Yet, in the shadows of twilight, the island stirred with life, though no ordinary kind. Hooded figures glided silently across the craggy shorelines, their robes fluttering as soft incantations filled the air.

The army of sworn wizards was hard at work, transforming the island into a fortress of war, under the strict command of Madam Clark and Supreme Sword Magus Elarin.

The wizards moved with precision and discipline, each faction working in seamless harmony.

The Wand Faction arranged traps in the sand that shimmered before sinking beneath the ground.

Magical barriers rose from those traps, invisible to the naked eye but crackling with arcane energy beneath the surface. They would snap shut like jaws should an enemy dare to tread on the island uninvited.

The Staff Faction stood near the island’s borders, their long staffs planted in the ground. With each rhythmic tap, shimmering lines extended outward, hoisting elaborate flags that pulsed with latent power.

“No one shall pass this line unless death walks with them,” The head of the Staff faction muttered, his eyes fixed forward, unwavering.

Fist Faction wizards channeled brute magical force directly into the land. Their spells cracked open the rocky terrain, carving trenches and ravines designed to funnel attackers into kill zones.

Some among them manipulated the ground itself, shaping the earth into jagged spikes and defensive walls that blended naturally with the landscape.

At the heart of it all stood Supreme Sword Magus Elarin, his hands clasped behind his back, observing with a sharp gaze. His sword, an ancient relic pulsing with crimson light, hung at his side, a reminder of the power he commanded. Beside him, Madam Clark watched as the factions labored under the veil of night.

“Everything is almost set in place,” Elarin remarked, his voice as sharp as his blade. “When the Nine Realms Association finds this place, it will already be too late for them to respond.”

Madam Clark nodded, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the island. “The Association believes we are still a small mob,” she said coldly. “But by the time they notice, this 7th realm will be ours. The barriers are in place. Let them come. We will meet them with fire and fury.”

Behind them, the Sword Faction worked diligently, planting enchanted swords deep into the ground, their blades humming faintly as they anchored spells of entrapment and misdirection. Each sword was connected by tantric threads, forming a lethal web that stretched across the inner sections of the island.

“More to the east!” one of the faction leaders called. “They will expect a weak spot there.”

“It will be no weak spot when we are finished,” answered another as they drove yet another blade into the soil.

Above the island, unseen to ordinary eyes, the Air Faction drifted like shadows. The wind -fan faction people spun spells into the very wind, creating currents that could scatter enemies or strip them of protective enchantments.

Silent as specters, they moved among the clouds, leaving trails of glowing dark clouds behind them that faded into the night.

Deep beneath the earth, the Hammer Faction pounded the foundations of the island with raw magical energy. Caverns formed, stocked with reserves of mana crystals and explosive traps. The ground trembled with every hammer strike, but the vibrations were swallowed by the river before they could be detected.

Madam Clark strode to the edge of the island, looking out toward the Seventh Realm’s horizon. “We don’t need to hold the entire realm. We need only a foothold. From here, the realm will fall into our hands like dominoes.”

Elarin glanced at her. “What if they attack with their full might?”

Madam Clark’s lips curled into a slight smile. “Then we destroy them here. Let them come. Let them see the power they dismissed.”

A low rumble echoed across the island as the barrier’s final layer settled into place. The Wand Faction dispersed, and the Sword Faction fell back to the inner perimeter. The Staff Faction finished their last line of defenses, raising their staffs high, merging their energies to form an outer dome of magic that flickered once before becoming fully invisible.

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The wizards convened at the center of the island, standing beneath the glow of a single floating orb that Madam Clark held in her hands.

“Tonight, we rest,” she said, her voice carrying across the gathering. “Tomorrow, we sharpen our blades and prepare our spells. Sooner or later, When the Association arrives, they will find not an island, but a graveyard.”

“Ahuuuu…”

A soft ripple spread through the air as the wizards raised their weapons in unison.

After receiving instructions from Madam Clark, everyone dispersed to their designated sectors.

Silence fell upon the island once more, though it was now far from empty. Hidden spells, deadly traps, and the quiet hum of weapons saturated the ground beneath their feet. The no man’s island had become a war ground, ready to devour whatever force dared step upon it.

–

7th Realm… Emperor’s Palace…

A low, steady drumbeat echoed across the marble floors, signaling the assembly of the Emperor’s forces. Cloaked in robes, the army of wizards gathered beneath the towering stone arches.

Rows upon rows of battlemages, elementalists, and summoners filled the courtyard, each faction standing at attention with their respective leaders at the helm.

Emperor Ryon stood on the elevated balcony overlooking the sea of wizards below. His long crimson cape fluttered behind him as he gripped the hilt of his ceremonial sword. Beside him, the Palace Master adjusted his own robes, whispering last-minute instructions to the battlemage commanders.

“We march at dawn,” Emperor Ryon declared, his voice amplified by a spell that carried his words far and wide. “No Man’s Island should be taken back. We cannot allow any other force to fortify themselves there. The barrier will fall today.”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd, but the wizards stood firm, their eyes fixed on the Emperor.

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