The Legendary Mage (Alavin)
Chapter 149

Alavin stood in the center of the combat arena, gasping for breath. His body was drenched in blood, with dozens of wounds that were a shocking sight to behold. His head hung low, and his consciousness faded as if he might collapse at any moment.

He had reached his limit!

The arena was silent at first, but then sporadic applause began to echo. Before long, the clapping grew louder and louder, with even Protégés, including Orland, joining in to applaud him.

The judge presiding over the arena looked towards the old lord's dais for a signal, and, upon receiving a nod, strode towards Alavin, lifting his right hand. "The second round, the first battle, Alavin from Cobalt Strike is victorious, granted entry into the top ten of this year's The Clash of Eight Orders!"

There was no dissent, no objections; although his rank was lower, Alavin's strength was undeniable, and he was worthy of the title among the top ten.

"Congratulations Commander Kashann, Cobalt Strike has an early champion in the top ten," the old lord said with a smile as he congratulated them. Commander Kashann managed a weak smile and nodded his thanks.

The other seven Organizations did not offer congratulations. Their expressions remained neutral-not out of jealousy, but rather they were pondering the rumors they had heard-had Cobalt Strike slaughtered Alavin's entire family and town? Had they enslaved Alavin for eight years? Had Alavin sold himself for a spot in the competition, just to save his town from slavery?

The plot was thickening.

Perhaps even the Commander Kashann himself hadn't anticipated such a standout performance from Alavin; otherwise, he would never have brought him here. The more remarkable Alavin's performance, the more Cobalt Strike's reputation was tarnished.

Alavin had barely stepped off the high platform when darkness clouded his vision, and he fell forward, having reached his absolute limit.

Mariela was the first to catch him, disregarding the blood that covered him, and took him to the side to check his wounds.

Alavin had lost consciousness, but a faint smile hung on his lips. It was a harrowing and thrilling battle, and he felt exhilarated. He had even forgotten his mission, and was lost in the joy of combat, challenging his own limits.

"The competition will continue; we'll take Alavin back," Nikulas approached them.

"Here are some healing potions." Mariela handed him a crystal vial.

Nikulas gave Mariela an extra glance, said nothing, took the vial, and helped Alavin away.

The applause lasted a long time, seeing Alavin off. The first of the top ten was born, a title well-deserved, but with such serious injuries, it was unlikely he could participate in the battle for the top five, ending his journey in the top ten. For a Stage VIII Protégé to achieve this, it was already a matter of great pride, enough to make his name known throughout the Eight Orders.

A Cobalt Strike Elder furrowed his brow, his gaze cold. After watching Alavin leave, he quietly slipped away from the crowd's view and left the venue.

Inside the manor of Cobalt Strike.

Adirich lay in bed, lost in thought. His injuries from the previous day were not serious, and he had woken up this morning, but he had no desire to watch the competition at the Warriors' Vale, nor did he have the face to show himself there. He had come full of confidence, thinking he would make a name for himself and bring honor to his master, but he had not expected to be carried back after the first round. "How will I explain this when I return? How will the other Protégés see me? That cursed Alavin, if he hadn't stolen the spotlight, would I have encountered a freak like Inga?" Adirich's gaze was hollow as he stared blankly at the ceiling beams, feeling empty, devoid of any enthusiasm.

He had joined Cobalt Strike at ten, was taken as an Elite Protégé by the Grand Elder at twelve, and reached Stage VIII at fifteen. He had always been the pride, the envy of many, and a model for others. He had long awaited The Clash of Eight Orders, eager to make a name for himself there, to be remembered by all of the Eight Orders, but now... Alas... "I should not have been so rash, why did I insist on being the third to fight?"

The door creaked open, and a Cobalt Strike Elder entered.

"Elder Connas," Adirich did not get up, pretending his injuries were severe. He didn't have the heart to engage.

"Why didn't you go to watch the competition?" Elder Connas was from the Grand Elder's faction, also the same Elder who had just left the arena.