The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 165

The battlefield atop the mountain seemed to freeze in time. It was a place of wonder where everything moved sluggishly as though mired in a bog, even as it also seemed to happen in a flash of lightning, too fast to follow its trajectory.

The duel that shook the soul felt like it lasted an eternity and yet was over in an instant.

Suddenly...

Thwack!

The iron blade, swift as thunder, struck Alavin, piercing through his abdomen and exiting his lower back. The booming of its impact echoed across the mountaintop, carving deep ravines into the earth. Alavin shuddered as if struck by lightning, trembling violently and nearly collapsing to his knees. His face turned deathly pale from pain or perhaps the limits of his endurance.

Cedrick, transformed into a blade of war, bore down with formidable presence, ready to cleave Alavin asunder, but was struck by a blast from the Shadowbringer. The blade was formless yet carried a terrifying concussive force. Cedrick’s body, as though hit by a mighty hammer mid-sprint, was abruptly halted and then violently thrown back, flying dozens of yards before crashing down on the other side of the peak.

His sudden retreat caused the iron blade and the surrounding blade energy to dissipate, losing their edge before they could overwhelm Alavin, the remnants clattering to the ground.

The crowd fell silent, and not even the sound of breath could be heard. Was it a draw, with both sides grievously wounded?

"Alavin... Cedrick..."

"Is this truly a contest of arms, or do they bear a grudge?"

"Do they need to fight so fiercely?"

"Do they not fear death? Their battling style is reckless."

"It seems like they both aimed for mutual destruction, doesn't it?"

"What happened? Who saw clearly? Speak up, for heaven's sake! You're killing me with suspense!"

Many Protégés of the prestigious Organizations took deep breaths, their expressions odd. They were unaccustomed to witnessing such battles; this was not a polite contest but a savage gladiatorial fight to the death! Yet amidst their shock, they couldn't help but admire the two fighters for providing a match of unparalleled brilliance.

"This isn't madness. This is their Energy," some admired.

Alavin stood stubbornly, his body drenched in blood. It had been a battle fought with wild abandon, a release without reservations. He had no regrets, but if he could stand till the end, he would not give up. He was here not just to fight, but bound by a mission, a duty.

Cedrick struggled to his feet, his expression one of extreme agony and confusion. Shadowbringer had left no physical wound but had gravely injured his spirit, embedding the murderous intent of the Shadowlord's realm into his mind. Looking up at Alavin, his black eyes somehow returned to normal.

Alavin and Cedrick locked gazes.

A silent standoff, a complex deadlock.

In the end...

"You've won!" Cedrick rasped, collapsing heavily to the ground, his consciousness fading.

Alavin exhaled, nearly collapsing himself, but stubbornly remained upright.

The silence lasted for a long while until someone began to clap. The applause grew, sweeping across the mountains and valleys.

The Clash of Eight Orders was more spectacular with each passing year. With the first match being so thrilling, what about the next four? All spectators were filled with anticipation.

"The Clash of Eight Orders sees the birth of its first of the top five, from Cobalt Strike... Alavin," the old Lord announced, making his way to the mountain's summit. His voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed a mix of complex emotions.

The eight Commanders nodded slowly, all acknowledging Alavin's place among the top five. Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

"Commander Kashann, such a Protégé deserves your care. If you truly do not wish to keep him, don't waste his talent. The Bloodlore Covenant would welcome him anytime."

"The biggest surprise of this year's championship is none other than Alavin."

"How many more secrets does he carry? If Commander Kashann truly discards him, the Stellar Precepts would be interested in taking him in."

"Given Alavin's nature, he might be better suited for the Earthbound Spirits."

Each Commander seemed to covet the talented warrior.

Commander Kashann stated coolly, "From this day forth, Alavin shall be known as a Cobalt Strike Golden Protégé. You need not concern yourselves with him any longer."

The old lord reminded them, "Commanders, by tradition, we must bestow a title upon our first Top 5 Protégé."

"Shadowlord's Messenger!" chuckled a member of the Bloodlore Covenant, finding it apt.

The Floral Enchantress Commander cautioned, "Commander Jarad, do not take this lightly. The title will carry great significance, representing the Eight Orders' esteem and their forecast for his future. The term Shadowlord carries too much lethality and might bring him undue negative influence."

The Starlit Echoes Commander added, "Alavin is merely combative and eager to claim his place. This is not wrong, and he should not bear the title Shadowlord."