The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 120

On the edge of the field, thousands of robed figures with chains clanged on drums and hammers, dragging a colossal stone coffin from beneath the earth.

Boom! The coffin trembled as if a legendary demon was about to return to the world.

This was a world of slaughter, rivers stained with blood and cries reaching for miles. Slaughter, madness, disaster, and all manner of terrifying scenes collided overwhelmingly.

All of this filled Alavin's consciousness as if it were truly happening around him, threatening to engulf him.

Indescribable pain was consuming his very soul.

Suddenly, deep within the battlefield, a streak of dark light appeared, unassuming, yet stirring an endless tide of darkness. The world, suddenly fell into darkness, and everything shattered in an instant...

Alavin awoke with a start, kneeling on the ground. His hair was disheveled, he was breathing heavily, and his body was soaked with sweat, his gaze trembling slightly.

The nightmare felt so real, yet so illusory. It seemed like an eternity had passed, and yet it was but a fleeting moment in his mind.

"This is the Shadowlord's realm of slaughter!

"You wish to master the art of the Shadowbringer, you must first endure the murderous intent and madness within the Shadowlord's domain.

"Every attempt will torment you to the brink of death.

"Do you... dare to continue?"

The voice of the Chained Spirit rang out, slightly rousing the bewildered Alavin.

At that moment, Celesse and Carlys entered the dungeon to visit Alavin, when suddenly she heard a pitiful and desperate wail from the depths below. Both ladies' complexions changed slightly. Was it Alavin?

"We haven't done anything!" the Protégé guardians quickly protested, gesturing with their hands. They had done nothing more than limit Alavin's food and had not intentionally tormented him.

"If harm befalls Alavin, I shall hold you accountable!" Carlys scolded with a fiery tone, following Celesse as they hastened to the dungeon's depths.

The Protégés intended to stop them, as it was clearly stated that no visitors were allowed during solitary confinement, but... who would dare to obstruct Celesse?

Alavin was kept on the fifth sublevel, alone in a spacious cell. The place was dim and damp, reeking of foulness. Two torches hung by the door, casting wavering shadows.

As they descended, they found Alavin kneeling there, his appearance disheveled and ghastly, struggling to maintain control over his consciousness and the intense pain wracking his body.

"What's happened to you?" Both Celesse and Carlys were taken aback by his state.

Alavin lifted his head, and his eyes were bloodshot. The murderous aura had not yet faded.

"Lord Alavin! You..." Carlys gasped, covering her mouth.

Alavin shook his head vigorously, and after a long struggle, he regained control of his senses. Recognizing the two ladies, he managed a weak smile. "A slight mishap in my training, nothing

more. I'll be fine shortly."

"What have you been practicing?" Celesse sensed something amiss. What kind of Combat Magic could torture Alavin to such an extent? It seemed as if he was teetering on the brink of a magical frenzy. She wanted to open the cell, but the guards hadn't followed them down, and they had no key.

"It's nothing, really. Got a bit shaken up, but I'll recover soon."

Celesse scolded him with a mix of worry and affection, "Must you always provoke Odell? For a mere steward, you've put yourself through this."

"I sought a quiet place to train; this seemed fitting." Alavin did his best to maintain his smile.

"Are you truly alright?" Carlys looked at Alavin with both concern and a touch of fear.

"I'm fine, tough as they come," Alavin assured as he stood, brushing the dirt from his clothes. "What brings you here?"

Celesse remained silent, looking at Alavin.

Alavin shrugged, stretching his limbs. "Really, I'm fine. Who doesn't face setbacks in their training? Don't worry about me."

Celesse replied helplessly, "I'm about to embark on a journey with my master for further training."

"That's right, it's time." Alavin pulled out the Super magical ore from his pocket, whispering slyly, "Want some? I've got more."

Celesse couldn't help but smile at his jest, though her expression dimmed slightly as she hesitated. "The roster for The Clash of Eight Orders has been set."

"What? So soon?"

Celesse avoided looking into Alavin's eyes, which were filled with disappointment. "The Clash of Eight Orders only allows contenders under eighteen years of age. Don't be saddened. You still have chance."

"Who are the contenders?"

"The four Golden Protégés, and the six strongest from the Elite Protégés, Cedrick, Mariela, Adirich, Myke, Nikulas, Gwenda. These are the slots proposed by the Commander, and the Elders have unanimously approved them."

Carlys glanced at Alavin's face, hesitating to continue. "Roald advanced to an Advanced Mage ten days ago and is currently undergoing special training by the Elders. He's our best hope in the Cobalt Strike to claim a title."

Celesse consoled Alavin, "There's no need to rush your breakthrough to Stage VIII. Calm your spirit and solidify your Novice Mage foundations. You've advanced too quickly in the past six months. And don't worry too much about Azure Mountain. My master has already begun to devise a plan to improve the conditions there."

Alavin smiled reassuringly. "Don't fret over me, I won't be crushed by such setbacks. Focus on your own training journey, and don't worry about me."© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.