Lucius's plan to become the Magic Emperor really isn't delusional; by most standards, he already deserves the title.
No matter the type of magic, Lucius could wield it as if it were his own arm, and he could combine or even compound them at will.
Unlike Conrad, who had to use his own magic as the medium to activate others, Lucius truly brought out each magic's full power.
Charles even felt like he was fighting the entire Magic Knights. In fact, it was worse than that—no squad could field nothing but Grand Magic Knight–level spells.
The twin flaming wings behind Charles beat, his whole body turning into a meteor of fire as he dodged the barrage of varied magic.
Tearing through an electrified net by force, Charles closed in on Lucius.
His fists fired out like bullets from a machine gun—countless fist-shadows appeared at once, all crashing toward Lucius.
Though Lucius couldn't affect Charles with time magic, he could still use it on himself.
Even after accelerating his own time, he couldn't find any gaps between Charles's punches, as if they'd all been thrown simultaneously.
Without hesitation, Lucius chose to meet fist with fist. A chain of explosions rang out with each impact, and then—within that exchange—Lucius was blasted backward.
As the fight grew more intense, Charles's fighting spirit climbed too. Boiling mana made the draconic scales surfacing on his skin glow an even brighter red after dragonization.
With power surging again, Charles darted up to Lucius and drove a rising elbow into his chest, launching him away.
At the point of impact, every muscle fiber was shredded, the bones within snapped inch by inch, and even his internal organs were ravaged by the flood of flame mana.
For anyone else, it would've been fatal. But Lucius displayed astonishing regeneration; by the time he halted his retreat, he'd already fully recovered.
Of course, Charles didn't let up—but just as he moved, chains poured out of the void, wrapping him up tight.
Lucius brought his fingers together and said, "Finally caught you."
These chains were formed from a multitude of restraints and sealing spells; Charles even felt his mana solidify.
While being suppressed in that clash, Lucius had already set his trap, using himself as bait.
Only after integrating the four great magics did he have enough confidence in his defense and regeneration to dare such a risky play.
As Lucius reached for Charles's forehead, Charles said coldly, "You think this can hold me?"
Crimson flames surged forth; the chains binding him crumbled almost at a touch, and even Lucius had to break off and dodge this all-consuming annihilation flame.
Glancing at his palm—scorched for hesitating a moment too long—Lucius smiled naturally. "It was naïve of me to think I could end you that way."
Threads of crimson mana were forced out of the charred skin. Charles's annihilation flame was so domineering that unless he expelled it, even Lucius's regeneration couldn't heal the wound.
Lucius raised his hand. For some reason, at that motion, Charles—wreathed in annihilation flame and poised to press the attack—felt a jolt of dread and instinctively dodged.
The airborne fortress split cleanly in two. Not just the fortress—the sea of clouds within sight was neatly divided down the middle.
The scene couldn't help but call to mind Moses parting the Red Sea from religious lore.
Charles could feel it—that strike had surpassed the very concept of magic. Even his defense couldn't withstand it.
In that moment, Lucius truly looked like a god, with all things changing at his command.
Charles steadied his breathing. Such overwhelming might didn't make him panic; on the contrary, it made him calmer.
There was no way Lucius could use a power that strong as effortlessly as it appeared. If he could, he wouldn't have been suppressed earlier.
So there had to be some limitation—something Lucius couldn't truly control.
And Charles was right. He had himself to thank for that. Lucius hadn't expected Lucifero to be slain after descending. Two-thirds of that power had been cut down by Asta's anti-magic, and even the remnants had been burned to ash by Charles.
He'd assumed that even divided, no one besides himself could handle Lucifero.
Lucifero would eliminate those who hindered him, and then he'd take Lucifero's power. After that, he could trigger Judgment Day and realize his goal.
But the plan failed at step one, leaving his final strength far short of what he'd projected.
Although integrating the four great magics completed his evolution, he couldn't wield that ultimate power at will.
He'd hoped to scare Charles into losing the will to fight, but he knew full well what an exceptional warrior Charles was—he'd likely already sensed the situation.
Even so, it didn't matter. A power whose specifics were unknown yet could decide victory or defeat outright—that alone could grant Lucius a huge edge.
So Lucius took the initiative, flickering to appear before Charles and slamming a heavy punch at his head.
Charles did feel constrained, but dancing on the edge of life and death only made the fight feel more real.
So instead of retreating, he stepped in and met Lucius's fist with his own.
The impact forced Charles half a step back, but he immediately chopped with a knife-hand, colliding against Lucius's blocking forearm.
Then came another flurry of exchanges—their arms became near afterimages; even the "ora-ora" sound effects would have fit the mood perfectly.
Just then, Lucius spotted an opening, and that over-spec power began to gather again.
While Lucius's strike was still charging, Charles's hands suddenly changed. The armor covering his arms flashed into light and, with a tightening grip, transformed into a long, narrow shape that lunged forward.
Lucius's pupils shrank as a long-hafted, broad-bladed weapon skewered his body.
Sensing that same heart-clenching danger, Charles resorted to an unexpected counter.
Charles's level-up had also upgraded this soul-manifested weapon. The War Saint's blade-jaws grew more intricate, as if a true divine dragon were coiled upon them.
The blade itself, too, gleamed clearer, like a cold moon rimed with frost.
Charles twisted his wrist to widen Lucius's wound—but Lucius had already withdrawn, and the injury began to heal.
Charles wasn't about to waste the chance. His footwork shifted, his body turned, and the War Saint flowed with him; a gleam as clear as autumn water slashed toward Lucius.
Lucius retreated several more steps in a row to avoid the strike. Then he looked up to see Charles taking to the sky, both hands on the hilt, bringing down a blow to cleave Mount Hua.
It was as if the dragon on the blade let out a soul-shaking roar. Violent flames erupted from the edge yet held within a fixed range.
One could imagine the power of that strike, but Lucius had chosen his moment.
He pointed his index finger at Charles's heart, the terrible force at his fingertip already primed.
Charles no longer had time to dodge, so he chose to ignore the fatal counter. Now it was a question of who was faster.
The answer was Charles. The flame-wreathed blade split Lucius from left shoulder to waist—but Lucius's finger did not drop.
The power at his fingertip released, on the verge of striking Charles.
Charles had lost that gamble. Lucius's injury looked severe, but it was only a grave wound; Lucius's attack, however, could utterly destroy Charles's heart.
Hit in such a vital spot, Charles's own healing would be useless.
But in that instant, a black silhouette appeared. A pitch-black greatsword intercepted the attack.
Asta, having entered his demon assimilation state, clenched his teeth, arm trembling—but still swung that sword.
Anti-magic truly is the most exceptional power; it could even erase that godlike force of Lucius's.