The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 167

In the craggy expanse of Little Stone Ridge, the fierce battle for the top five champions raged on, unphased by Alavin's departure and undeterred by their grievous wounds. As Jackar and Jevan found their stride, the spectacle of combat reignited the crowd's fervor.

Their clash, while not as brutal as the one between Alavin and Cedrick, had its own brilliance and flair. Echoes of cheering arose from the surrounding hills, a chorus of support for the combatants.

The intense battle lasted for half an hour, and in the end, Jackar narrowly triumphed over Jevan, claiming the second spot among the elite five at this year's championship.

"The second match, victory to Jackar from he Stellar Precepts!" the old Lord announced with a high call.

After deliberation, the Eight Orders Commanders bestowed upon him the official title—Divine Amethyst!

Then Darron took the stage. "The Stellar Precepts, Darron, issue a challenge!"

...

Following Alavin's departure, four more electrifying bouts ensued, each more spectacular than the last. The throngs of onlookers were utterly enchanted. Their cheers and gasps rose and fell like waves.

Such a level of combat was a rare sight indeed!

The Eight Orders Commanders nodded in silent approval; the day's martial gathering was remarkable, with each Protégé showcasing their best.

Protégés watched with bated breath, fully convinced of the contenders' strength. Darron and his peers were rightly seen as the new generation's mightiest force for the Eight Orders of the Northlands.

Finally, amidst passionate cheers, the fifth match drew to a close.

The stone mountain had completely collapsed into ruins, leaving rubble scattered far and wide, and signs of battle marking the land for miles.

A Protégé from Starlit Echoes, Sigfred, knelt on the ground, his long hair disheveled, his face ashen. With his chest heaving and his left arm dangling uselessly, he appeared utterly defeated.

As the revered genius and captain of Starlit Echoes, he had never known defeat—certainly not a defeat this dire. He lifted his trembling head, his dazed gaze peering through his tousled hair at the enchanting figure approaching.

Eyla moved with a grace that was both alluring and deadly. Her glowing skin and voluptuous form were the epitome of beauty.

However, in Sigfred's bewildered eyes, there was no desire—only defeat and fear.

Eyla's seductive charm was overwhelming as she stood before him. Her curvaceous silhouette was haunting; her smile revealed pearly white teeth, yet her blood-red eyes were chilling to the bone.

Protégés were left speechless, transfixed by the devastating vision of Eyla amidst the wreckage. The terrifying scenes they had just witnessed were echoing in their minds.

Was this Eyla's true power?!

Darron's expression was grave as he pondered his chances against her. Looking towards the Bloodlore Commander, he thought, "Have you been raising Eyla as a Magi-Monster?"

"I… concede," Sigfred murmured, and his head bowed in resignation.

“It’s over,” Commanders said with complex emotions, all eyes on the Bloodlore Commander. “You old sorcerer, you’ve actually passed on your Combat Magic to Eyla, to your own granddaughter. How could you?”

“So what if I did?” the Bloodlore Commander responded, unfazed by their stares.

“Have you trained your granddaughter in the ways of the Blood Elf?”

“Her constitution is perfectly suited.”

The other Commanders shook their heads. The Combat Magic of the Blood Elf was notoriously treacherous and malign, fraught with danger. One misstep could lead to madness, transforming one into a creature of evil.

“Eyla, it’s over. You may stop,” called the Bloodlore Commander.

Sigfred’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

However, Eyla moved behind him, her slender waist and long legs drawing eyes even in her movements. She gently raised her hand and placed it atop Sigfred’s head.

“No! Stop!” The crowd was in an uproar as several Elders couldn't help but rush towards the battlefield.

"I concede!" Sigfred's realization came too late as he screamed in alarm.

Eyla's laughter, light and melodious, filled the air as a mysterious power surged from her hand into Sigfred's skull. In an instant, his body stiffened, and his bones cracked loudly, sending shivers through the onlookers.

"Ah!!" Sigfred's screams were agonizing as his eyes bulged and his body contorted in immense pain.

The Elders reached the battlefield, but Eyla simply raised her hand with a charming smile. "The fifth match is over!"

With a thud, Sigfred collapsed; his face was twisted unnaturally, and his body looked rigid. Every joint in his body was dislocated! His pain was unbearable, and his cries were hoarse.

The Protégés gasped at the ruthlessness.

Eyla's smile remained unchanged as she walked past Sigfred. "You won't die. It'll just hurt for a while. Consider this a lesson... Don’t too proud..."

The Starlit Echoes Elders rushed to Sigfred's side, quickly tending to his injuries while warily observing Eyla.

The Starlit Echoes Commander's face was grim, but he refrained from any outburst, coughing twice to signal the old Lord to make the announcement. Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Stepping into the ruins, the old Lord proclaimed loudly, "The fifth match, victory to Bloodlore, Eyla!"

People shook their heads privately; this woman was truly a scion of Bloodlore. Despite her breathtaking beauty, her methods were too cruel—who would dare to court her?