NOVEL NEXT Chapter 333: All Might
CH333 All Might
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Like many new things, the era of Interplanar travel and conquest didn't begin smoothly for the denizens of the Pangea Realm—at least, not as seamless as it might appear now.
The Pangeans faced countless challenges in the beginning, so much so that the dream of conquering and ruling multiple realms once seemed like a far-fetched fantasy. Yet, through relentless innovation and adaptation, Pangea eventually developed its own advantages—and in time, rose to become the powerhouse it is today.
If one were to ask the great powerhouses of Pangea what made their realm stronger than the rest, one would receive many different answers.
Advanced magical theory.
Superior craftsmanship and knowledge.
Unmatched strategy and warfare.
Highly trained troops.
Refined battle techniques.
And above all, continuous, hard-earned combat experience.
Each of these would be valid answers.
However, if one were to pose the same question to the noble houses—the true vanguards of Pangea's dominance over other planes—their response would be singular and unanimous.
Magic Armour!
Magic Armours were more than mere constructs of war. They represented the culmination of nearly every Pangean advantage forged into one magnificent creation.
They were the perfect fusion of superior craftsmanship and advanced magical theory—an embodiment of technology so refined that it allowed highly trained soldiers to channel their experience and discipline into devastating, coordinated warfare under a singular strategic will.
A Magic Armour was more than a weapon; it was a symbol—a platform through which Pangeans exhibited every facet of their superiority over the denizens of lesser realms.
To the noble armies, Magic Armours were their pride and their Trump card .
An Elite-ranked warrior, mage, or warlock was just another piece on the board. But equipped with a Magic Armour, they became an indispensable warfighter capable of turning the tide of a battlefield on their own.
Depending on its design and the philosophy behind it, a Magic Armour could drastically enhance a user's defence, strength, agility, energy manipulation, spell output, and more. Some designs distributed these benefits evenly, while others sacrificed balance to push a single parameter to its utmost extreme.
As the highest expression of Pangea's art, science, and magical technology, the higher the tier of a Magic Armour, the rarer and more personalised it became.
A Tier IV Magic Armour—crafted for Saints—was already an extraordinary rarity. Many would never even witness one in their lifetime, for its creation and upkeep consumed enough resources to bankrupt Counts, Earls, or even some poorer Marquis.
In truth, the resources required to build such armours were better spent elsewhere. Not only were the materials themselves prohibitively expensive, but more importantly, Saints hardly needed the kind of boost a Magic Armour provided—at least, not at the cost it demanded.
That wasn't to say Magic Armours were useless to Saints. Far from it.
There had been recorded instances of Saints equipped with suitable Tier IV Magic Armours resisting higher-ranked Saints, and even Legends—a feat that would otherwise be unthinkable under normal circumstances.
But as for Tier V Magic Armours… that was an entirely different matter.
Their costs were so astronomical that no Magic Armour company would ever produce one for open sale. At best, they might prepare a partially completed frame or core—an archetype built around a specific combat philosophy or enhancement parameter.
In most cases, however, a Tier V Magic Armour was a bespoke creation—custom-designed and crafted for a specific client, who would personally gather or commission the rare and often unfathomable materials required. And more often than not, these armours were bound to their intended wielder or Legendary Owner, making them unusable by anyone else.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," the auctioneer's voice rang clear, cutting through the tension like a blade, "congratulations—for you are about to witness the first-ever public auction of a pinnacle Tier V Magic Armour!"
The hall erupted.
Gasps!
Shouts.
A rush of mana perception surged through the audience like a storm.
Every heart pounded with excitement.
In an instant, the calm that had briefly settled over the grand hall was obliterated, replaced by a roar of awe and disbelief.
No one—absolutely no one—had expected the Golden Palace to acquire a Tier V Magic Armour, much less to place one up for public bidding.
"This Tier V Magic Armour originates from the esteemed House of Iron, one of the continent's premier Magic Armour forges," the elven auctioneer continued, her tone rising with pride. "It is a Tier V, Legendary-grade iteration of the Bawn variant from the House's Doom Armour series—designed by none other than Grandmaster Radek Bloodhammer, also known as the Force Architect."
A ripple of excitement spread across the audience.
"As many of you know," she went on, "the Force Architect is a renowned specialist, famed for his Strength-based Magic Armour designs. This particular Legendary variant—the BrawnLord—takes his philosophy to its absolute extreme."
She smiled knowingly before elaborating, "To realise his vision of creating the ultimate construct—one that embodied the very essence of physical might—the Force Architect collaborated with Grandmaster Gilrad Jendor, the Runeward, a genius runesmith; Grandmaster Eoran Fellmirr, the Philosopher, a famed alchemist; and a team of seven other Master craftsmen."
She let the silence linger for a heartbeat.
"The result of their combined genius," she declared, "is this—Tier V Magic Armour, BrawnLord."
The audience leaned forward collectively, breath held in anticipation.
Then, the auctioneer added a measured warning, her voice firm and clear.
"Please be advised—unlike most Magic Armours, the BrawnLord does not enhance speed, agility, defence, energy manipulation or any other parameter. Its design philosophy is simple."
Her lips curled into a sharp smile.
"The BrawnLord exists for one purpose—to elevate physical strength and force potentially beyond the limits of the Legendary Realm."
Although the elven auctioneer issued her warning, it did little to dampen the mood. Excited murmurs rippled through the grand hall as the attendees leaned forward, discussing the lot item in hushed, fervent tones.
"The starting bid for this lot is 500 High-Grade Mana Stones," the auctioneer announced, her voice ringing clear and confident. "Let the auction begin."
"600 HGs!"
"650!"
"725!"
Like water bursting through a shattered dam, bids came flooding in from every corner of the hall. The momentum was immediate and fierce. As expected, most of the bids came from the private boxes—those belonging to the continent-spanning powers.
"1000 HGs!"
The bid swiftly climbed, the value surging past 500,000,000 gold coins. Yet the pace showed no sign of slowing.
While lesser factions began to retreat, unwilling or unable to keep up, the Five Great Empires remained steadfast. None among them were willing to yield.
Other factions hesitated. After all, not every power possessed a Legend capable of bringing out the full potential of a strength-exclusive Magic Armour like the BrawnLord. But for the Five Empires, whose ranks boasted the highest number of Legendary-class individuals, such concerns were nonexistent.
"1,200!"
"1,315!"
"1,529!"
"1,630!"
"1,720!"
The auction hall thundered with each rising bid. Pride flared like sparks between dry tinder.
Soon enough, it became apparent that the battle was no longer about acquiring the Magic Armour, but more about denying it to the others.
Tension thickened with each shout. The very air seemed to hum with aggression.
"Two thousand HGs!"
A collective gasp swept through the hall. The bid had just surpassed even the price of the refined Elder Dragon spine, a bonafide Epic ranked material.
Ordinarily, Alex would have been ecstatic. But this time, he wasn't smiling.
He could feel it—the volatility building in the air. The tension had reached a knife's edge. One more provocation, and the representatives of the Empires might well draw blades.
If that happened… the best-case scenario would see the auction ruined. The worst? Bloodshed. And with that, the Golden Palace's reputation—and perhaps even its foundation—would collapse overnight.
Fortunately, before the situation could spiral further, a calm but commanding voice rang out.
"I bid two thousand five hundred High-Grades."
The entire hall fell silent.
Then, that same powerful voice continued—measured, authoritative, yet oddly… polite.
"Would the other representatives kindly leave this item to me? I am in need of it."
Though the words were phrased as a request, every person present—especially those in the private boxes—understood the truth.
This was no plea. It was a lifeline.
A graceful way for the Empires to back down… without losing face.
"Ah, the Legend of Dominating Force. If you are speaking out, then the Elarion Empire shall take a step back."
The wizened elder from the Elarion Empire was the first to seize the opportunity and bow out gracefully.
"You have my gratitude, Elder Melias," the owner of that commanding voice replied.
"All Might… how rare for you to make a move for something."
The Amazonian matriarch representing the Eternal Valkyrie Empire chuckled, folding her arms as she leaned back in her chair. "Since you ask, EVE will also step down. However," her sharp smile gleamed beneath the light, "I expect you to accept my duel. I wish to see which armour is stronger—my Freya's Wish or this Brawnlord."
"Thank you, Lady Kaelmiryn," the voice—All Might—answered courteously. "I would be more than happy to oblige… should I actually win the bid."
"The Virellian Empire will also step back," said the representative of the Imperial Sun, his tone calm and composed.
"There is no need for humility, Your Excellency Achilles. Your bid is already beyond what the Confederacy can offer. We too will withdraw," announced the Confederate Councilman with a resigned smile.
Now, only the representative of the IronHammer Empire remained.
The dwarf lingered, eyes filled with reluctant desire as he gazed upon the armour. He walked the path of strength himself; that armour would be a priceless asset once he crossed the threshold to Legendhood.
"What are you waiting for?" The Smithmaster smacked the dwarf's shoulder with a heavy palm. "Let the Banner Lord have the armour. Between his immediate use for it and your future potential, which do you think matters more? Besides, do you really think you find in our forge something comparable or better when you advance?"
'That's true…'
The dwarf's eyes brightened as clarity returned.
"The IronHammer Empire makes no further bids," he declared at once.
All eyes turned toward the elven auctioneer. It was clear—no one else would challenge the final offer.
"The current bid stands at 2,500 High-Grade Mana Stones for the Brawnlord," she said solemnly. "Since there are no further bids, the Brawnlord is hereby sold to His Excellency, Achilles Maximilian, for two thousand five hundred High-Grades!"
Bang!
The auctioneer's gavel struck the podium, sealing the transaction and bringing this round of the auction to its dramatic close.
"Who was that?" Alex asked quietly, glancing toward his fiancées.
"You don't know Achilles Maximilian?" Eleanor blinked in disbelief.
"Should I?" Alex asked, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
Eleanor sighed. "He's only one of the most talented individuals in the entire plane! The same age as Prince Caesar—one of the 'Stars of Virellia'— Lord Achilles Maximilian, the Legend of Dominating Force, nicknamed All Might for his overwhelming physical might and force… is already a Late-stage Legend!"
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