Magus Supremacy Nove Chapter 831

Chapter 831: Chapter 831

Chapter 831

THUD—!

Gunther hit the ground with a heavy, sickening resonance as his chest rose and fell in a frantic, uneven rhythm.

A dark pool of blood began to collect beneath his battered body, staining the cracked stone of the coliseum.

His grip on his twin swords finally failed, sending the weapons clattering away from him with a hollow, tallic ring.

A short distance away lay an unconscious Mada, resting at the center of a five-ter-wide crater with limbs twisted at unnatural angles.

Sera had also been cast aside, lying motionless in the debris, followed shortly by Judy.

This grim tableau illustrated just how terrifying Rowen was, even when relying solely on his base statistics.

He had utilized nothing more than raw, fundantal strength to dismantle a group of experienced Stage Five warriors and above with ease.

He was a nace.

A monster in human skin.

Had he decided to exert his full authority from the very beginning, absolutely nobody would have survived the encounter.

Instead of rely falling unconscious with severe injuries, they would have all been slaughtered where they stood.

No potential coback. No miraculous return.

Just flat-out gone.

Even against his base attributes, they shouldn’t have been capable of defeating him under normal circumstances.

They all understood this truth—Brook knew it, and Gunther did too.

They were simply no match for Rowen, even when combining every ounce of their collective might.

Brook’s hands rested heavily on his knees as he took in rough, jagged breaths, his gaze fixed glassily on the ground below.

Wheezing loudly, droplets of crimson splattered onto the dust between his feet.

Though he had only joined the fray a few minutes ago, this had undoubtedly been his hardest struggle... ever.

While his Dantian wasn’t entirely depleted of energy, the mont the adrenaline surged out of his system, a wave of bone-deep exhaustion hit him imdiately.

He had always been accustod to being the stalwart shield of his clan; his primary role was to block devastating strikes from landing on his comrades.

But today, he had been forced onto the offensive, remaining just one misplaced punch away from being turned into a bloody paste.

Had it not been for the shield in his hand—the very one the Supre Magus had so graciously modified for his specific usage—he would have been a goner.

If he had been wielding a standard tower shield, the armant would have crumbled into splinters under Rowen’s relentless, hamr-like strikes.

Thus, their narrow victory was owed partly to Grey’s foresight, while the rest of the credit went to Gunther, who had delivered the miraculous final strike.

They were acutely aware that the last blow had been a lucky one.

So many disparate elents had coalesced into that final attack to help them topple Rowen.

First, there was the undeniable fact that the leader of the Iron Fur Clan had underestimated them massively, deciding to rely on his natural physique without the full augntation of his Ki.

Secondly, he hadn’t bothered activating his clan’s signature technique; otherwise, it would have been ga over in an instant.

Lastly, there was that brief, fatal pause when he had glanced over at his son.

That single mont of hesitation served as the final icing on the cake, centing their unlikely victory.

All these factors contributed to a gritty, well-earned win that had nonetheless left Gunther in a critical state.

With a surge of renewed purpose, Brook dashed toward his fallen ally.

Mid-stride, he pulled out three glass vials that swirled with a potent, dark crimson liquid.

Sliding on his knees through the dirt, he carefully turned Gunther onto his back.

He proceeded to pry the man’s mouth open slightly and uncorked one of the vials, emptying the dicinal liquid past his lips.

Gulp—!

The warrior reflexively swallowed the tonic, even though his condition was debilitating and his breathing remained shallow.

Slowly, the mont the liquid traveled through his parched throat and settled into his ravaged body, Gunther’s shallow gasping sharply transitioned into a steady, even breath.

His eyes remained closed, but his complexion already looked much improved compared to a few monts ago when he had appeared deathly pale.

Now, a healthy color was returning to his face, while several of the external injuries he had sustained could be seen nding themselves with unnatural speed.

’Phew,’ Brook breathed a sigh of relief, carefully setting Gunther’s unconscious fra back onto the cooling earth.

Lingering for a few seconds, Brook fell into deep thought as he stared at the empty glass vial in his calloused hand.

’... The Supre Magus is surely a master planner. His mind isn’t normal, and neither are his mysterious powers. He spent three whole weeks creating these specialized healing potions.

How he actually brewed them, I have no idea. He intentionally withheld the bottles from the vanguard and instead chose to entrust us—the backup—with the supply so they wouldn’t be shattered in the opening gambit.

With these, we don’t have to worry about our allies succumbing to their wounds.’

He paused for a mont, his gaze shifting to where Grey was still silently cultivating atop his wolf.

’Unfortunately, I only have two of these draughts left, which ans Judy won’t be able to receive imdiate treatnt.’

With a heavy sigh, Brook turned around and rushed toward Mada’s motionless body.

Repeating the sa urgent process he had perford for Gunther, the direct descendant’s condition began to stabilize.

His shattered hands were already starting to knit back together at an astonishing rate.

Walking over to where Sera lay amidst the rubble, he poured the final potion into her mouth, watching intently as her breathing beca regular.

After he was finished with the dicine, Brook began the grueling task of carrying the unconscious warriors one by one, setting them far away from the epicenter of the ongoing battles.

Sighting Rivock laying facedown on his abdon, Brook pulled out one more vial he had tucked away.

He administered the liquid to the youth before carrying him toward the makeshift infirmary with a pained grimace.

’Based on the description the Supre Magus gave of his allies here, this must be Rivock—Rowen’s youngest son.’

Finally, he set Rivock down alongside the others, positioned safely miles away from the remaining clashes.

His eyes drifted toward the west and north booths, worry creasing his weathered face as the sounds of combat continued to ring out.

Then, his gaze landed on the motionless warriors brought by Rowen and Selene who were still standing by.

Brook gulped silently as he realized the enemy reinforcents hadn’t noticed that Rowen had been taken down yet.

If they realized their leader was gone, Brook feared what kind of frenzy might erupt.

Looking back at his fallen comrades, he pulled out his heavy shield and took a defensive stance, standing guard directly in front of them.

Hopefully, the guards wouldn’t take notice of their situation anyti soon.

Brook knew he wasn’t ready to take on two dozen Stage Five warriors... entirely alone.

’I hope the others will be okay. It doesn’t look like the other clashes will die down anyti soon. I’m sorry, guys; I won’t be able to shield you for a while. I have to wait until at least one person here regains consciousness. Best of luck until then.’