The Legendary Mage (Alavin)
Chapter 140

After the day's competition, the young nobles of Warriors' Vale left the city's administration abuzz with excitement, fervently discussing the day's events.

As the competitors took their leave, news about the day's Tournament quickly spread throughout the city.

That very night, the city's authorities hosted a grand feast in honor of the Eight Orders' Protégés. After all, the Clash of Eight Orders was a friendly competition. On stage, fierce battles were fought, but off stage, harmony was expected-at least on the surface.

All of the Organization Elders were present, ostensibly to mingle with the Protégés, but in truth, they were there to keep an eye on them, fearing any disorder. These young upstarts were all fired up, and the last thing needed was a brawl breaking out on this evening.

Alavin truly didn't want to attend but had no choice; the Organization had given a strict order. Unless a Protégé was severely injured in the arena, attendance was mandatory.

So, Alavin and Cedrick, two who were not fond of socializing, took their seats in a corner, helping themselves to food and sipping on fine ale. Mariela, a loner by nature and one who disliked bustling crowds, surprisingly joined their little circle.

The three of them sat without speaking. Alavin ate quietly, Cedrick drank leisurely, and occasionally they'd clink their tankards together.

Mariela sat behind them, eyes closed in meditation, a veil adorning her face.

"How shall we fight tomorrow?" Cedrick asked, throwing back a bowl of strong ale.

Alavin took a small sip, the spicy liquid burning his throat. "I'm pondering that."

"Planning to play rough?"

"That's the thought."

"How rough can you play?" Cedrick inquired further, taking another gulp of ale.

Alavin raised an eyebrow and looked towards the area where the Earthbound Spirits were gathered, silently strategizing. To prove himself, he knew he couldn't just play by the book; he had to fight fiercely and crazily, catching everyone off guard and revealing none of his tactics.

"Alavin, congratulations, you've passed the first round smoothly," a group of handsome young lads approached, greeting him proactively.

"Good to meet you," Alavin replied with a nod and a faint smile.

"How confident are you about tomorrow's competition?" They eyed Alavin with curiosity. A Stage VIII Protégé had defeated a Stage IX Protégé, an unprecedented event in the history of the Tournament, as no Stage VIII Protégé had ever participated before. He had won today, but what about tomorrow? Could there be more surprises?

"I intend to win," Alavin responded diplomatically.

"Who do you wish to challenge?"

"Being the lowest in the stage, I have no choice. I'll fight whoever steps up."

"I've heard someone's taken an interest in you."

Alavin chuckled. "There must be quite a few."

"The Floral Enchantress, Lylian. The youngest this tournament."

"A girl? I don't fight women," Alavin shook his head.

"Heh, you might not have a choice," one of the young men pointed to the lively crowd in the distance, where many handsome gentlemen were chatting merrily with groups of young ladies. They were Protégés of the Floral Enchantress, an organization composed entirely of females, likely related to their practice of Combat Magic. Each was pretty and delicate, inspiring affection, yet after today's first round of the competition, no one dared to underestimate them-with nine participants and five victories, their success rate was astonishing.

Among the Floral Enchantress Protégés was a young girl who seemed more youthful than the others, stealing glances their way.

It's Lylian. The legendary figure of the Floral Enchantress, who today had defeated Cobalt Strike's Golden Protégé, Semar.

"Her swordsmanship and movements don't follow conventional rules. She might not have even used eighty percent of her strength today. Be careful tomorrow," Cedrick slurred, reclining lazily beside Alavin. Alavin clinked his tankard with Cedrick's. "I haven't used even thirty percent. Do you believe me?"

"Alright, I believe you," Cedrick burped.

At that moment, a handsome and dashing young man approached them, smiling slightly and bowing courteously to Mariela. "Lady Mariela, I am Kean of the Stellar Precepts. May I have the pleasure of your company?"

Kean, one of the three Advanced Mage Protégés of the Stellar Precepts, was both a notable and a charming figure who found interest in ice queen beauties like Mariela, kindling his passion for conquest. Mariela coolly lifted her eyelids, her gaze tranquil as a flowing stream, beautiful yet cold.

Kean bowed with a warm, polite smile, extending his hand towards Mariela.

Alavin shifted aside to make way, not wanting to cause trouble. "You play your games."

But Mariela pointed at Alavin without paying heed to Kean and continued her meditation.

"Hm?" Kean was puzzled and glanced at Alavin.

Alavin shrugged, clueless and innocent.

"Lady Mariela means...?"

"Ask him," Mariela said coldly, her lips barely moving.

"Him??" Kean's eyes shifted, and then he understood. "Apologies for my presumption. Alavin, you are fortunate."

"What do you mean?" Alavin nudged Cedrick.

"She's yours," Cedrick said, eyes half-closed, half-awake.