SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

The coral moonlight shimmered through the silk curtains of Neela’s chamber, casting pearlescent reflections across the walls. The faint sound of flowing water and whispering wind brushed the atmosphere with a quiet stillness.

Neela lay unconscious, her breath now steady, though faint—her skin returning to its radiant, bluish glow. The poison had receded, but her soul still drifted in silent recovery.

And in that silence, Kent sat cross-legged, his gaze fixed on the Memory Crystal he had received from the Sky Naga.

A faint pulse echoed from the crystal, as if alive, beating in sync with some ancient rhythm. Kent took a deep breath and placed it at the center of his palm.

“Arch-Magus,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing. “Let me witness your path.”

A surge of warm light engulfed his vision.

The world blurred, shifting and twisting into a sea of blood and steel.

BOOM!

Explosions tore through the sky. The battlefield was vast—torn plains drowned in fog and shadow, where ancient beasts and heavenly mages clashed under a blackened sun.

And in the center, like a god of warfare, stood a tall figure cloaked in silver robes, adorned with spiraling tattoos of ancient Naga runes. His golden hair fluttered in the wind, and his bow, unlike any Kent had seen before, curved like a crescent moon with seven gems along its spine.

“Arch-Magus Tang Zi…” Kent breathed inside the memory.

The memory surged forward.

Tang Zi stood alone—his army crushed, his breath shallow—but his eyes burned like twin suns.

From his spatial ring, he pulled out… a simple disc—no larger than a palm. He placed it on his bowstring.

The moment the disc touched the string—

FWUUMMM!!

The disc glowed blue, expanded into a glowing whirlpool, then—

THWIP!

It shot across the battlefield like a comet, turning mid-air into a massive chakra ring that sliced a flying beast lord in half—clean, precise, devastating.

“What… was that?!” Kent’s voice echoed inside the memory trance.

Another enemy approached—a Nine-Armored Blood Rhino. Tang Zi didn’t flinch. This time, he placed a vial of green liquid onto the bowstring.

Again, the string absorbed the object, and the vial pulsed with light, morphing into a glowing arrow.

He let go.

BOOOOM!

As the arrow hit, it burst into vines of poisonous mist that grew into writhing roots, strangling the rhino in seconds.

Kent was stunned.

“Anything he touches… becomes a spell. He’s not using arrows—he’s crafting spells through archery!”

Tang Zi twirled his fingers and summoned six more objects—some were jagged stones, some were spinning chakras, and one… was a golden feather.

He fired them in succession. Each object, as it left the bowstring, transformed—liquids became flame, stones became lightning, feathers became illusion arrows that multiplied in midair.

The battlefield turned chaotic.

Dozens of enemies fell—burning, dissolving, screaming.

Tang Zi’s eyes burned with focused resolve.

“The bow… is not merely a weapon,” he said aloud to his enemies. “It is the language of will.”

“Each string I pull is a syllable. Each object I fire… a word of destruction.”

Kent trembled.

It was art. It was madness. It was Arch-Magic.

As Tang Zi jumped midair, he pulled out a massive red orb, loaded it onto his bow. With one roar, he shouted:

“Heavenly Chakra: Annihilation Curse!”

The arrow blasted forward and split into hundreds of spinning discs, creating storms of wind and flame that sucked the life out of an entire battalion. The landscape below turned into molten trenches, still glowing with crimson cracks.

Kent’s mouth went dry.

“This… this is another realm of spell casting…”

“Spell-bow… Chakra-bow… even elemental infusion…”

–

The silence of Neela’s chamber was undisturbed, except for the gentle hum coming from the Memory Crystal still floating before Kent. Its golden glow did not fade. It pulsed—steady and strong—like a living thing, as if sensing that Kent had not yet seen everything.

He took a breath, heart still pounding from witnessing the power of Arch-Magus Tang Zi.

“There’s more,” he whispered.

The battlefield from earlier had faded. Now, Kent stood—spectrally—in a sky-bound land of floating rocks and storm-filled clouds. Arch-Magus Tang Zi hovered alone, suspended on an enormous sky-lotus, surrounded by ancient, floating scrolls and weapon racks.

Here, the training began.

“The bow is not just a tool,” Tang Zi’s voice echoed across the void. “It is a soul-binder. The bow does not shoot arrows… it releases your intent.”

He held a black arrow—its surface flickered with inscriptions. With a slight chant, the arrow shivered… and from its shaft rose a wolf-shaped shadow, baring fangs.

“This is a Spirit Arrow,” Tang Zi explained. “It has a will.”

With a flick of his hand, he drew and fired.

The arrow soared toward a stone pillar, and mid-flight, the wolf spirit leapt out of it, changing directions and slamming into a distant boulder.

BOOM!

Kent was stunned.

“So… the arrow listens. It adapts.”

He watched as Tang Zi conjured seven bows—each with different string types. Silk string, metal string, thunder string, even spirit hair.

Each bow reacted differently.

One fired silently, with shadow magic.

Another launched pure light, able to pierce illusions.

A third one whistled like a phoenix, the arrow creating flames that sang as they burned.

Then came the Arch Scripts—ancient runes engraved upon the bow’s limbs and string.

“Each script,” Tang Zi said, “is a rule you impose. Inscribe ‘Sever’, and the arrow cuts everything. Write ‘Bind’, and it wraps around the enemy. Create your law, and let the arrow obey.”

Kent watched, wide-eyed, as Tang Zi scribbled an arch-script on an arrow: 「SPLIT」

He fired.

Mid-air, the arrow split into eight, then sixteen, then thirty-two copies, each bursting with elemental variations.

Wind, ice, fire, poison, shadow…

They all hit different targets across a training ground with flawless accuracy.

“This is madness…” Kent muttered inside the trance. “No… this is mastery.”

Kent’s consciousness remained deeply fused with the memory crystal. He now stood beside Tang Zi, who smiled faintly—like a teacher proud to reveal his greatest secrets.

“Once you learn to give your command to the arrow, it will obey… even after being fired,” he said.

To demonstrate, Tang Zi drew a dull iron needle—nothing magical.

He whispered, “Deliver.”

The moment it touched the bowstring, the needle glowed, pulsing with golden light. Tang-Zi fired it.

And as it sailed ahead, he spoke:

“Turn. Rise. Cut the sky.”

The arrow twisted mid-air, soared vertically, and split the thundercloud above with a crackling explosion.

Kent’s lips parted in awe.

“He’s commanding the arrow… as a general commands an army.”

Suddenly, a shift.

A new scene emerged—a real battle.

Thousands of demonic beasts surged toward a broken fortress. The sky was dark. The land was drenched in black mist.

In the center, Tang-Zi stood alone.

He had no arrows left.

Kent watched as Tang Zi took out shattered sword fragments, a broken fan, and even a bloodied piece of paper. With a calm-breath, he placed them on the bowstring—one after another.

Each transformed.

The sword fragment became an exploding crescent blade that detonated with thunder.

The broken fan turned into a storm vortex.

The bloodied paper spiraled, glowing red, and created a curse seal that paralyzed dozens of beasts.

“This is not archery,” Kent whispered. “This is spell-forging through release.”

His mind buzzed with possibilities.

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