The sounds of battle cries echoed in the huge plain. The sky was dyed red from the countless blood that sprayed each time an enemy cut down another.

The charred corpses of dragons—which was a sight no ordinary person could comprehend—littered the battlefield as if they didn’t have a chance against their opponent.

Blasts of supernatural energies rained down on fleeing soldiers like a hurricane. The people were either cooked alive or blasted away by destructive magic.

On a certain kingdom’s border stood two nations battling for victory, an open plain stretching out under a blood-red sky, the horizon flickering with the fiery light of distant fires. The ground, scarred by powerful magic, now served as the stage for a confrontation of a different kind.

In the center of the field stood a solitary magician, his robes fluttering in the fierce wind that carried the scent of smoke and ash. The air hummed with latent power as he drew upon the arcane powers of the nine rings on his fingers, his hands tracing intricate runes that glowed with an eerie blue light, spitting out hundreds of energy blasts. Across the plain, a battalion of enemy sorcerers assembled, their eyes gleaming with malevolent intent as they prepared to unleash a barrage of spells in unison to hope to match the single magician representing the opposing nation.

As the first bolts of magic hurtled through the air, the lone magician moved with practiced precision, summoning a shimmering barrier that deflected the attacks in a burst of sparks.

The ground shook as he retaliated, sending a shockwave of energy that scattered his foes like leaves in a storm. Lightning crackled from his hundreds of endless magic circles, arcing towards the enemy, while orbs of fire and ice exploded around him, turning the plain into a chaotic battlefield of clashing elements. Each spell he cast was a masterpiece of destruction and defense, a testament to his unparalleled skill and will to dominate his enemies.

The sky above mirrored the conflict below, swirling with dark red clouds that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the battle, as the lone magician faced overwhelming odds with unyielding resolve.

To an outsider inexperienced in magic, the lone magician looked like a conductor directing the flow of his musical performance. His moves were graceful to some but terrifying to others since he could command hundreds of spells at once.

The enemy nation did not know this man’s true name. They only know he goes by the name “Rune” and was the companion of the Silver Dragon, a Sword Master who recently gained recognition for her power.

When asked who was the more terrifying individual, many would say the Silver Dragon who could cut down hundreds of demons with her physical strength alone but that’s only because no one had witnessed the true power of the man in front of this enemy nation.

How could one man hold this much power and not use it for evil? How could demigods bow down to mortals and serve them?

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All of them had thought in their minds: this man was much too powerful.

How could such a powerful individual even exist that could somehow be even more terrifying than their empress?

“Are you saying that one person won against our entire mage corps which number in the hundreds!?” the enemy nation’s commander’s spit flew as he barked at his subordinates.

“Y-Yes….!”

“That is simply impossible to believe…”

“W-We need to retreat… There’s no way for us—”

“The empire’s nobles are going to kill us all if we retreat now! That’s if the empress doesn’t do it first! Who is he!? Where did he come from!?”

“H-He only goes by the alias Rune so we don’t know much about him… Ah, he has connections with the Magic Association too—”

Just then, a large explosion of fire erupted from the battlefield. They could see a fire giant wreak havoc just by swinging his arms cladded in fire. It was like he was the embodiment of the sun itself.

He was a Spirit Monarch. His aura of flames was melting rock and the flesh of the humans who dared face him.

“N-No way… H-He can even use spirit magic? How is… How is this possible…?”

Below the fire giant, they could see a lone man walk towards their camp, unfazed by the scorching heat emitted by the fire spirit behind him. He had long light brown hair, cold green eyes and wore an academy uniform of sorts under his white magician robe. The uniform was covered up so it was impossible to tell which academy he was from since there were hundreds.

He was the height of a person in their late teens and was on the skinnier side.

His body was that of a child in their eyes but he could annihilate their soldiers in close combat and their magicians in magic.

He was no ordinary magician.

The last time the commander was this terrified by another’s magic potential was when he caught a glimpse of Viria, the Heiress of the Tarith House. She demonstrated magic that even outshined her uncle.

Even though he was standing so far away, they could hear his voice. It was cold and filled with authoritative power:

“Surrender and go back to your land or else I will take all your lives. Ironically, all of you will have to live with the fact that you are cowardice to invade a falling nation so bravely. Tell your monarch that this nation’s queen will accept her surrender. I will not show up on the battlefield a second time because I’ll go straight to your empress and kill her myself. All of you are next.”

He lifted his left arm that was glowing a deep dark red. It suddenly changed to a white color when he closed his hand. Spirits shot out of his arm like gushing water.

A boom was heard which made a blue haze suddenly erupt from the ground. It transformed into a giant beautiful woman with blue hair and skin.

It was another Spirit Monarch.

Raging waves were coiling around her seductive wide hips and bountiful chest. The space itself distorted around her, making those waves of terror even more powerful.

With one swing of her arm, icicles erupted from the ground and killed ten men in just a few seconds.

“This… monster…. How is this a human…”

As if the two powerful monarchs weren’t enough to satisfy him, the young man manifested even more magic circles, that numbered in the hundreds, using one of the nine rings on his fingers.

At that moment, everyone knew:

We’re doomed.

All of them dropped their weapons before the might of the mage and his seemingly endless pool of mana.

The Magic Empire’s mage corps of the 5th division issued a retreat after offering futile resistance against this single man who was sent by the falling nation’s young queen.

He won the hearts of the citizens, the fear of his enemies and the love of the nation’s queen that he saved from peril.

His name shall forever be in their minds.

Rune.