Marvel's Master of Heavenly Magic

Support me and be 30 chapters ahead of webnovel:

patreon.com/Draco_

******

"The dragon is dead! Follow me—counterattack!" 

Once again assuming his giant form, George hurled the severed head of the dragon, Glauron, straight into the ranks of the orc army. With the three elven princes by his side, he Apparated onto the city walls and cast a Sonorous Charm to amplify his voice. 

The sight of the dragon's severed head sent a wave of panic through the Balrogs and orcs alike. 

In contrast, the elves and humans—once battered and weary—were suddenly filled with renewed vigor. With a thunderous roar, they charged down from the walls, rallying behind the colossal George and the three elven princes to launch their counteroffensive. 

"Plasma Electromagnetic Cannon!" 

With a mighty leap, George landed in the midst of the orc horde. His giant form bore the brunt of their attacks, and in retaliation, he unleashed a surge of plasma from his palms, spinning in a devastating arc. 

The sweeping blast tore through the battlefield, cutting down entire swathes of enemies in its wake. 

The Plasma Electromagnetic Cannon was powerful enough to cleave through mountains. While it might not have been enough to deal lethal damage to Sauron or the dragon, against these orcs, it was utterly devastating—a mere graze would wound, a direct hit would annihilate. 

As the energy reserves within his body depleted, George took a brief moment to recover. Then, another brilliant golden magic circle lit up behind him— 

"Light Magic—Rain of Radiance!" 

A barrage of blazing light arrows rained down, mowing through the ranks of orcs that had regrouped for another attack. 

Meanwhile, the three elven princes had joined forces against a Balrog—and in a stunning display of swordplay and magic, they felled the demon. 

The remaining Balrogs, seeing that the battle had turned against them, did not hesitate. They immediately turned and fled. 

Unlike the orcs, whose lives were considered expendable, the Balrogs were irreplaceable. Every single one lost was a devastating blow to their forces. 

Now, with their dragon commander slain and the Balrogs retreating, the orcs' already wavering morale completely collapsed. 

The battlefield erupted into chaos as they broke formation, abandoning their weapons and fleeing toward Angband in a desperate retreat. 

George and the three elven princes led their remaining forces—a coalition of humans and elves (now numbering fewer than a thousand)—and pursued the enemy relentlessly. They chased the fleeing orcs all the way to the ruins of the elven front-line fortress before finally halting their advance. 

 "So this… is the power of Morgoth?" 

Standing atop the crumbling ramparts, George gazed into the distance—toward Angband, shrouded in black smoke. Even from afar, he could feel the overwhelming presence of its abyssal magic. 

His heart shuddered. 

Truth be told, Sauron had already felt immensely powerful to him. 

But compared to Morgoth's power, Sauron was nothing more than a candle before a raging inferno. 

No wonder so many Maiar had fallen into corruption during the Dawn of Creation. 

And to think—this was Morgoth in a weakened state. 

To spread his corruption, he had infused much of his essence into the world itself, diminishing his original divine might. 

One could only imagine just how terrifyingly powerful the Valar of Valinor must have been at their peak. 

 "These fortresses… were once built for defense, yet now, they are nothing but ruins." 

The three elven princes surveyed the shattered walls and the charred corpses of their fallen kin—Light Elves burned to death by demonic flames. 

Sorrow clouded their faces. 

Not long ago, they had stood victorious, building these very fortifications after defeating Morgoth's armies. 

Now, those very battlements lay in ruins, and their brethren lay dead. 

 "Your Highnesses, now is not the time for grief. We must send word to the elves in the East—immediately." 

George's voice snapped them from their sorrow. 

Elves, upon death, would have their souls guided to Mandos's Halls. There was always a chance that they would meet again in the distant future. 

And as for these ruined fortresses? 

Those were easier to restore—a few Mending Charms, and they'd be as good as new. 

The real priority now was whether they could save the Eastern Front. 

 "The Aglon Pass has fallen. The Eastern Front has collapsed. 

Save for Maedhros's forces, who have retreated into their stronghold, all others have fled south. 

The Balrog King now leads a massive army deep into the heart of the continent."

 The Second and Third Princes Shook Their Heads 

It wasn't that they were unwilling to help. 

Though they did harbor some resentment toward their seven cousins for past transgressions, blood ties and a common enemy ultimately bound them together. 

However, even before the attack on the central front, they had already received an urgent message from Maedhros in the East. 

Among the three battlefronts, the Eastern Front had been the first to fall, followed by the Central Front, and finally, the Western Front. 

Unfortunately, by the time the message from the East arrived, it was already too late. The first line of fortifications had been caught off guard and overrun in a surprise attack led by the dragon and its forces, pushing all the way to the Elven City before anyone could mount a proper defense. 

"It could have been worse. At least we managed to hold two defensive lines, preventing a total collapse." 

Hearing the Second and Third Princes' explanation, George was momentarily stunned. 

But after a brief moment of thought, he let out a sigh of acceptance. 

Some things simply couldn't be done perfectly. 

And even if the Eastern defenses hadn't fallen, reinforcing them would have been incredibly difficult. 

The three princes and their forces had just endured a brutal battle—they were far from unscathed. Physically and mentally, they had reached their limits. Without several days of rest, they wouldn't be able to recover. 

George himself, though unrestricted in magic, had also pushed his superpowers to their limits. Repeatedly stimulating his body with electricity had left him physically drained. 

 "Reparo Maxima!" 

After arriving at the ruined fortress, George waited for the elven warriors to carry out and bury the charred corpses of their fallen comrades. Then, he raised his wand and cast a powerful Mending Charm. 

The orc army had been driven back to Angband, but there was no guarantee that Morgoth wouldn't send them to attack again. 

Restoring the fortress and stationing troops for defense was absolutely necessary. 

Under George's spell, the crumbling walls and shattered towers began to reassemble—as if time itself were reversing. Within moments, the fortress stood as pristine as it had been before the attack. 

The sight left both the human and elven soldiers in awe. 

But then—it was George's turn to be astonished. 

 Elven Life Magic 

After George repaired the fortifications, the Light Elves gathered together and began chanting in unison. 

They placed their hands on the ground—and suddenly, the scorched, lifeless earth that had been ravaged by Balrog fire began to bloom with new life. 

Burnt trees sprouted fresh green leaves, and withered flowers blossomed once more. 

Then, they took out seeds, planted them in the fertile earth, and accelerated their growth with magic. In an instant, fruit-bearing trees sprang up, laden with ripe fruits that the elves harvested and shared. 

 "This… is Life Magic!" 

It was only at that moment that George finally understood. 

No wonder elven cities were always so beautiful—surrounded by lush forests and vibrant flowers. 

No wonder elves never needed to farm like humans did. 

Their lands were always elegant and abundant, effortlessly self-sustaining. 

 "The elves know far more magic than I imagined." 

George's eyes gleamed with curiosity. 

Though elven magic seemed to lack a wide range of offensive spells, it was likely because their combat techniques—archery and swordplay—were simply more efficient than casting destructive spells. 

But this Life Magic… 

This was something entirely new to him. 

Among all the spells he had learned, nothing came close to this level of nature-based power. 

If the Eastern Front had truly fallen, so be it. 

As long as the elves remained dominant overall, the war would not be lost just yet. 

And if that gave him a brief moment of peace to study their magic—he would gladly take it. 

 A Temporary Return 

Leaving the majority of the elven and human forces to rest and fortify the front-line stronghold, George, Bregronlas, Barahir, and the three elven princes took a small contingent and returned to the Elven City. 

At the same time, the eldest prince's forces, who had been rushing from the canyon, finally arrived at the battlefield. 

The three princes immediately set to work, reorganizing defenses. 

Meanwhile, Bregronlas and Barahir returned to the human settlements, evacuating all human inhabitants to the safety of the Elven City. 

 Standing Before the Dragon's Corpse 

As the others prepared for the next phase of battle, George approached the fallen dragon's body. 

(End of Chapter.)