The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 203

Lucan was a mighty warrior of Master Mage Stage VIII, a rank so formidable that even in the ranks of Cobalt Strike, he would be considered an Elder. His arrival at the battlefield turned the tide in an instant. The troop with a hundred guards, leveraging their numerical advantage, peeled away dozens of bandits for a concerted assault.

Panic took hold of the bandits as they had not anticipated facing such a powerful foe. They yelled for retreat, struggling desperately. But by the time they thought to flee, it was too late. The black- cloaked figures, cold-blooded killers that they were, maintained their steely gazes, unchanging from start to finish. As the bandits descended into disarray, the slaughter began without mercy.

Deep in the mining district, Vandill gazed westward, sensing that something was amiss. The confrontation should have ended swiftly – a simple case of cutting down the defenseless members of the Mallister family. But instead, the sounds of battle grew fiercer.

"Elder Vandill, something's not right," a Cobalt Strike Protégé warned Vandill. Thick smoke billowed in the west, flames licked the sky as if burning through the heavens themselves, and the distant clamor of battle cries and thunderous booms could be heard. If one looked closely, signs of Combat Magic clashing were evident. Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

They were all Mages; they knew well the spectacle that Combat Magic collisions could create. By their reckoning, Lucan should have just arrived, yet the chaotic skirmish seemed to have been raging for quite some time.

"Should we go and have a look?" The guards of the Mallister family were worried.

"Without my command, no one moves," Vandill reminded them sternly. Apart from a few powerhouses like Lucan and Godfred, the rest of the Mallister family's guard troop was of average strength, but they had the advantage of numbers, over a thousand strong.

"Aren't you worried about any mishaps?" the deputy commander, Godfred, asked, frowning towards the horizon.

"This mining district is about to be spent. A mishap or two doesn't matter," Vandill replied. His only concern was the treasure trove of magical ore.

"Don't be so absolute. I suggest we send someone to take a look."

"No need."

Vandill's refusal was as firm as it was paranoid, a choice that directly led to the demise of those three hundred Cobalt Strike Protégés.

"Cobalt Strike will never forgive you..." A 'bandit' stood amidst the ruins, his hoarse voice screaming in defiance. His face twisted in rage and resentment.

Two black-cloaked figures dashed past him; their blades crossed in a flash of deadly precision, and with a sickening sound, a head soared into the air, blood spurting in its wake.

This was the last 'bandit.' He was now kneeling heavily on the ground, weapon slipping from his powerless grasp. Silence fell upon the scene, with nothing but the marks of battle strewn across the devastated land.

Balder spat and scoffed, “Pitiful Grand Elder!”

By that time, other squads tasked with intercepting bandits had returned, one of them escorting the male weaklings of the Mallister family. They, too, had been frightened, but thankfully, 'The Silent Blade' had come to their rescue in time, preventing any casualties.

Thus, the three hundred Cobalt Strike Protégés masquerading as bandits had been annihilated, and not one had escaped. In their final moments, they had hoped vainly for Vandill's aid, but their shouts

for rescue went unanswered, falling one by one.

"Korb, are you alright?" Helna and the others approached, relief flooding her heart.

"What happened?" Korb and his group were visibly shaken, and many of the frail young boys were terrified.

In the shadows, Garrat, the squad leader, hid silently, having watched the events unfold without revealing himself. He had recognized the danger and the identity of 'The Silent Blade' the moment they appeared.