The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 132

She made no effort to conceal her youthful, vibrant body, so tantalizing it could make one's nose bleed.

Any person would struggle to remain composed upon encountering such a sight outside their window. However, her eyes were a bloody red, rendering her already sultry demeanor into something more sinister.

Alavin couldn't shake a sense of alertness as he felt a tangible, clear sense of danger emanating from the maiden before him.

“Are you…” Her rosy lips curved ever so slightly, forming a smirk that wasn’t quite a smile, as she appraised Alavin.

“You’re a Protégé?” Alavin furrowed his brow.

The girl let out a light, melodic whistle, stirring the little fox that lay on Alavin’s leg.

The creature seemed reluctant. Its head tilted as it looked out the window at the girl. NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

With a light laugh, the girl waved her delicate fingers. The little fox, against its wishes, got up, leaped onto the window sill, and glanced back at Alavin before jumping onto the girl’s shoulder. She gently tapped the fox’s moist nose and walked off into the moonlit night with it.

Mariela, who lived in the small courtyard next to Alavin’s, was about to close her window when she caught sight of a fiery, statuesque silhouette emerging from Alavin’s yard. The girl’s long, straight legs shimmered beneath the nearly transparent fabric of her dress, and her slender, pale arms glowed faintly in the moonlight, an enticing vision of grace.

The girl paused at the gate and turned her head to look at Mariela’s room. Her lips curved into a playful smile, she winked with her left eye, and with a twist of her supple waist, she walked away,

her steps enchanting.

Mariela watched her leave, then turned to look at Alavin’s courtyard.

Alavin was at the window, chin in hand, deep in thought. Who was that girl? The blood-red eyes were unforgettable.

Could she be an Protégé? If Alavin were to face such an adversary, he was not sure he could prevail.

“You seem to have a way of attracting women,” Mariela’s cool voice drifted over from the adjacent yard.

Alavin looked over. “Didn’t the Hidden Essence Protégé invite you out? Why didn’t you go?”

“Stay away from that woman.” Mariela moved to close the window.

“Hey!!” Alavin called out.

“Speak.”

“Got anything to eat? I’m starved.”

Silence hung in Mariela’s room for a while before a faint voice replied, “Come and get it.”

Alavin hopped into Mariela’s yard and was about to knock on the window when a handkerchief was passed out to him, inside were several pastries.

Did all maidens fancy baking pastries? Alavin sniffed them, detecting a floral scent.

“Why come to The Clash of Eight Orders?” Mariela’s voice, cool and detached, came from the room.

Many had asked Alavin this question on his journey, but he had never answered directly.

Sitting on a stone bench in her courtyard, Alavin tasted the pastries and said casually, “My reasons for being here are different from yours. You seek fame; I fight for my life.”

“For the Stormcast?”

“Yes, it’s been eight, no, eight and a half years. It’s time for some answers.”

“Couldn’t you wait another two years? With your potential, you might become an Advanced Mage in two years and have a better chance at the championship.”

“Two years… two years…” Alavin mused as he ate, a faint smile on his lips. “Do you really think I can survive another two years in Cobalt Strike? Would they let me grow stronger?”

Mariela fell silent. His casual words had somehow touched her, but she quickly regained her composure. “There’s always a way to survive, certainly better than rushing into the championship now.”

“How can you be so sure I won’t place?”

“Wake up. The Eight Orders Protégés are strong, and you’re too conspicuous. You won’t last two rounds.”

“We’ll see about that.” Alavin finished the pastries quickly; they tasted quite good. “Got any more?”

His question was met with silence.

Alavin wiped his mouth and handed back the handkerchief. “Thanks!”

“You’ve used it; keep it,” Mariela said, a hint of her fastidiousness showing.

“Alright then.” Alavin stuffed it into his pocket, ready to leave.

“You…”

“Hmm?”

“If one day, you fight for your freedom and succeed, would you leave Cobalt Strike?”

Alavin just smiled, did not reply, and vaulted back into his own yard.