SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

Far across the oceans, hidden beneath crystalline reefs and glowing coral forests, the Coral Spirit Clan’s Grand Palace buzzed with activity.

Tension laced the currents. Every guard in the Spirit Quartz Corridor stood rigid, while whispers passed like predator fish — sharp and fast.

Inside the inner sanctum of the Coral Throne, the air grew chilling as a ghostly silence fell.

Prince Ullo, third son of the Coral Matriarch, knelt nervously on the iridescent coral floor. His long blue hair was wet with sweat, though the sea was cool. His body trembled under the oppressive presence in front of him.

Ancestor Khagara had returned.

The being standing before him was no mere elder. Khagara was an ancient, one of the oldest living beings in the Coral Spirit Clan — long presumed dead, slumbering in an oceanic rift too deep for sunlight.

Yet he was here.

Towering, thin, skin shimmering like translucent coral fused with steel. His eyes were opaque white, glowing faintly with chilling divinity.

“You failed,” Khagara said, his voice not a growl but a wave of pressure.

“I… Ancestor please, I tried! The assassination attempt on Princess Neela was perfectly timed, but—”

Khagara lifted a finger.

Silence.

“Excuses are like barnacles. If left unchecked, they ruin the hull.”

He raised his palm. A violent current gathered around his fingers.

“Please!” Ullo begged, bowing so hard his forehead cracked the coral tile. “Give me one more—”

“One chance?” Khagara asked, tilting his head slightly. “You had one. You dared raise your hand to a royal of the Naga Clan and failed — now we have lost surprise, and they will prepare.”

“I will take responsibility, Ancestor—”

“You already have.”

Khagara’s hand pulsed.

Suddenly, Ullo’s body contorted as a black coral vine erupted from his back, growing through his chest and neck like a living spike.

His mouth opened — but no words came.

The guards outside heard nothing. Not even a scream.

Khagara lowered his hand, letting the corpse fall, lifeless, to the floor.

He turned toward the shadowed alcove beside the throne.

A voice from the dark spoke: “So, you’ve decided to act personally?”

“The Scaled One cannot be allowed to succeed,” Khagara said calmly. “The moment he returns with the legacy, our thousand-year plan collapses. The ocean cannot serve a human. Even a draconic one.”

The voice scoffed. “And what will you do? Kill him?”

“If we can,” Khagara replied. “But if he proves too strong, we break him. His human heart will bleed for something. Family. Oaths. Desire. He will serve the Coral or die with the tide.”

A coral attendant crept forward and whispered something.

Khagara nodded.

“The Abyssal Sharks received the message too,” he said. “Good. Let them act like hungry brutes. We’ll stay in the current’s shadow. When they strike, we move.”

–

In the Abyssal Trench Citadel, deep beneath where even coral could not grow, war drums began to echo.

The massive, bone-armored sharks that served as Abyssal Knights lined up in columns, receiving the order with open bloodlust. Over fifty thousand troops were being mobilized. The corridors shook with the echo of predatory roars.

Their Warlord—Gharnoth the Bone-Maw—stood before a map etched onto a whale’s spine. His massive fins curled into humanoid limbs as he raised a jagged blade toward the rift shown glowing on the map.

“The Scaled One swims into our trench,” he snarled. “He believes himself divine.”

The soldiers roared.

“He will meet what the gods left behind.”

–

Sea Ancestral Temple…

Kent had slept for barely two hours. Sleep, lately, felt more like meditation than rest. His mind could not be still — not with so much at stake.

Just then, the silence of the hallway was broken by the sound of soft sandals on coral stone. A moment later, Princess Nyara entered his chamber, dressed in a regal blue robe adorned with threads of silver kelp and moon coral. Her long hair was braided neatly, a formal Naga jewel tied at her nape. She held something wrapped carefully in her hands — a cloth scroll sealed with a pearl pin.

Kent turned as she approached.

“Princess.”

“You’re awake early,” she said with a small smile. “Or have you not slept at all?”

“I don’t sleep much anymore,” he replied. “Too many thoughts. Too many promises I’ve yet to fulfill.”

Nyara came forward and held the scroll out to him.

“Then this might give you more to think about.”

Kent accepted it with a curious glance, carefully removing the pearl pin and unrolling the strangely soft parchment — made from the silken hide of a water wraith beast. His eyes moved over the contents. Lines of golden ink glowed faintly beneath the soft candlelight. His brows furrowed as he read.

“Golden Heir Tournament…?”

Nyara nodded and stepped beside him, glancing over his shoulder at the document.

“It’s confidential. This was sent only to royal bloodlines and core participants. I pulled a copy from my father’s personal reserve.”

Kent’s eyes scanned faster now. His lips moved silently, repeating the key lines.

Golden Heir Tournament

Sponsored by: The Immortal Ruler Syndicate, in alliance with the Five Supreme organizations and all Seven Major Nations.

Eligible Candidates: Earth Immortal Magi, Crowned Scions, Heir-Apparents, Forbidden Bloodline Bearers.

Tournament Phases:

Phase One – Realm Arena:

10,000 selected heirs fight in regional towers spread across Seven Nations. Top 100 from each realm qualify.

Phase Two – Blood Mark Challenge:

700 contestants must pass through an ancient tomb filled with karma-based trials.

Phase Three – Heaven’s Storm Battlefield:

200 contestants are sent to a floating realm to survive divine-element storms while eliminating opponents. Only 33 emerge.

Final Phase – Immortal Offering Grounds:

The final 33 must fight one on one at God’s Arena.

Kent read each phase with still eyes. Then the rewards.

Grand Rewards:

1.A single Immortal Jade Tear capable of reversing death or healing all qi roots.

2.Right to enter the Immortal Gate sect from the Syndicate.

3.A marriage contract with one of the Five supreme organizations (optional).

4.The title of Heavenly Monarch for one full Immortal Cycle. [1000 years]

5.Direct favor of the syndicate.

He slowly rolled the parchment closed, gripping it tighter than he realized. Kent placed the cloth scroll on the nearby table. My Virtual Library Empire (M|V|L0EMPYR) hosts the original.

“I guess all the Seven Nations are sending their best?”

“Yes. Kulu, Xinghai, Moraga, Sha’tuul, even the mysterious Icefire Archipelago. Each nation will have its own top disciples, scions, and secret inheritors.”

“Then I have no time,” Kent muttered. “I must finish the sea legacy task and reach the tournament in time.”

Nyara gently stepped closer.

“Kent… you’re already carrying too many burdens.”

He looked at her. Calm but firm.

“That’s because no one else will. I made promises. I have people waiting for me — wives, friends, a family that’s still searching. I don’t need all five rewards. Just enough strength to bring them home.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Kent… If you do survive… and win the Golden Heir Tournament… don’t forget this sea.”

“I won’t,” he said.

–

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