The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 73

"How did you do it?" Carlys, as excited as she was, couldn't hide her amazement, which was no less than anyone else's. She knew Alavin had a strong gift, and she knew with the right opportunity, he could rise to power, but she hadn't expected him to be this powerful—almost unnaturally so.

According to previous expectations, Alavin was supposed to be able to fight bravely to the end, but that was meant to be his limit. Yet, he had managed to defeat Galos.

"What do you mean, how did I do it?"

"How did you as a Stage V defeat a Stage VII?"

"It must have been mostly skill, and Galos was careless."

Carlys smiled brightly. "This is the first time I've seen you wounded and not felt pity."

"These are just flesh wounds, no harm to the bone."

"How powerful is your Shadow Sabre?"

"About five thousand pounds of force, I'd say."

Carlys realized then why Alavin had prevailed. "Go rest up, I'll get some Pearlwort from Balder. Teehee, I bet three plants with him, at ten to one odds. He owes me thirty now."

"That many? Will he pay up?" Alavin chuckled.

Carlys winked playfully. "He definitely won't pay up in full, but we'll take what we can get."

"You keep them. The three plants are enough for me; don't forget, I'm still a servant, and not allowed to use Combat Magic or Elixir Herbs."

"I placed the bet in your name."

Alavin didn't dwell on his victory. After returning to the storeroom, he resumed his meditation, practicing the Restoration Mantra and absorbing the Restorative Aether from the world around him.

The second stage of the Restoration Mantra was now thoroughly learned, speeding his recovery exponentially. More than a dozen wounds healed visibly faster under the nourishment of the Restorative Aether.

Celesse only let Galos leave after his men delivered the Pearlwort, a show of strength that moved many.

When Galos left the Arena, he was nearly unconscious, and his arm was barely saved. Although this could draw the ire of the Grand Elder's faction, no one in Cobalt Strike would dare provoke Celesse.

The next morning, Odell, that bastard, brought a new list of tasks, deliberately increasing the 'quantity.'

After a night of rest and healing, Alavin's wounds had mostly mended. He carried stone urns around, delivering goods with no sign of yesterday's injuries and an air of calmness as if nothing had happened.

He was calm, but the other Protégés were not. Was this lad unkillable? He was wounded to that extent the day before, but how was he now as lively as ever? It seemed there was a reason he had not been broken by eight years of toil - he was incredibly resilient!

Protégés still mocked him, but there was a noticeable retraction in their taunts. When deliveries were late, no one dared scold him. They were afraid. This lad feared neither punishment nor a beating, nor trouble. Covered in scars and with newfound strength, there was nothing he feared.

Alavin was composed. What mattered to him was not the victory, but the lessons from the battle and the gaps in his Combat Magic. These were the true treasures.

Five days later, Alavin's realm broke through again, advancing to Novice Mage Stage VI.

The three Pearlwort plants Celesse had brought, along with the five Carlys had taken from Balder, were a great help. In total, he used six to achieve the breakthrough, leaving two to consolidate his gains.

Without a moment's rest, Alavin continued his relentless practice. The intensity of his training would have been too much for anyone else, but with the Restoration Mantra, a continuous stream of worldly energy kept him spirited, vigorous and eased fatigue, always maintaining peak condition. After eight long years of waiting for his chance, he couldn't let himself down, nor Stormcast, who waited with bated breath.

Yet, in the quiet of the night, Alavin sometimes wondered why no one from his family had come to see him this year. Every other year, they visited thrice, but now, more than half the year had passed without a single visit. Had something happened?

When could he return home to see his family, to see the suffering citizens?

In the dead of night, as Alavin sat meditating to consolidate his Stage VI power, a faint, hoarse voice materialized out of thin air. "Elder... save me..."

The voice was ethereal, weak, and drifting.

Alavin awoke with a start and looked around. Where was the voice coming from? His first instinct was to gaze into the depths of the storeroom, where the darkness and clutter made the silent night seem chilling. All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

"Please... I am from the Warrior Tribe of the East..."

"Save me... save me..."

The raspy voice continued intermittently, incorporeal as if coming from within the storeroom or the dim space itself.

"Who are you? Where are you?" Alavin's brow furrowed as he feigned calm.

"Forgive me... I dwell within the Shadowbringer...

"I mean no offense... I am too weak...

"Save me... bring me back to the Celestial Domain of the East..."

Alavin was deeply unsettled and immediately focused on sensing his Energy Core.

At the Novice Mage level, he couldn't yet see what’s in his Energy Core, but he could feel something amiss in his Energetic Core.

Shadowbringer? Dwelling within the Shadowbringer? Warrior Tribe of the East?

None of it made sense.

Alavin stifled his emotions and was about to ask when the voice weakly spoke again. "No, wait... not... your power... why... you... are you not him?"