The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 47

Alavin returned to his quarters, having refrained from training for the day. He sat beneath the ancient oak in the courtyard, pondering the challenge that awaited him in a month's time. He admitted to himself that Galos was formidable, far stronger than the average Stage VII mages, and being a favored champion of the Grand Elder, meant Galos would just be ruthless enough to aim for crippling blows in the upcoming duel at the Battlegrounds.

Alavin had already solidified his power at the Fifth Tier, and with a month of dedicated training, he believed he could reach the peak of this stage. If he committed fully, he could stand toe-to-toe with Galos. Winning was uncertain, but at the very least, he could ensure he wouldn't lose.

The problem was that Alavin didn't want to use the Grand Arcanum of the Blade within the ranks of Cobalt Strike, not yet anyway. Without the Dawnedge Blade and the Arcanum, how could he ensure he'd be the last one standing?

"Goliath Force!"

After much contemplation, Alavin's thoughts kept returning to Goliath Force. His greatest advantage lay in his physical constitution, and it was said that Goliath Force could amplify one's strength to its ultimate limit, potentially up to fivefold.

With the Restoration Mantra to condition his body and Goliath Force to enhance his explosive power, a month's worth of refinement should leave Galos bleeding, at least a bit.

"Tomorrow, I shall visit the Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls. If there's no better Combat Magic to be found, I'll choose Goliath Force."

With that decision made, Alavin retired to his quarters for a restful sleep, planning to visit the Sanctum the next day. He was neither anxious nor worried, but instead filled with an eager anticipation for the confrontation that lay a month ahead.

In the deep of night, all was silent and peaceful. Yet again, from the depths of the Botanic Haven, a hoarse roar shattered the calm, like thunder rolling across the sky, jolting the denizens of Cobalt Strike from their slumber, and awakening thousands of Protégés.

This time, the roar was not as wild, nor did it bring the violent quakes of before, but it was still enough to send shivers down one's spine, as if some terrible beast was trapped and could, at any moment, break free from its chains.

The Protégés of Cobalt Strike restrained their curiosity, staying within their dwellings without emerging to speculate.

The sound of clashing chains echoed from within Botanic Haven, sharp and resonant, adding a sinister feel to the night as the noise reverberated through Cobalt Strike.

Alavin stood in the courtyard, gazing toward Botanic Haven through the thick veil of night. The deep and raspy roar was unclear; it was hard to tell if it was a person's cry or the struggle of a Magi- Monster, lingering long into the night.

Inside, Alavin felt an inexplicable calling; the roaring seemed to be conveying something. His blade, Shadowbringer, vibrated as if in response.

"What exactly is imprisoned there? If it's truly a fearsome entity, why hasn't Cobalt Strike simply destroyed it?"

Puzzled, Alavin left his quarters in the dead of night and made his way to the foot of Botanic Haven.

"ROAR!!"

"ROAR!!"Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Suddenly, the roaring intensified, and the entire Botanic Haven seemed to tremble. The deafening roars transformed the mysterious and beautiful haven into a place of horror and dread. The sound of chains persisted, as if desperately trying to contain whatever was held within.

Within Alavin's Energy Core, Shadowbringer shook violently. The energy within him swirled and churned, leaving him feeling his own vitality tossed about.

The feeling of being summoned grew stronger, as if a force was about to surge down from the mountainside hundreds of meters high and pounce toward Alavin.

"Human? Monster? What could it be?" Alavin wondered in awe, slowly retreating as he stared intently at the mountainside where flashes of golden light and the shadows of chains danced in the mist.

"Who goes there?" A woman of unparalleled beauty appeared like a fleeting apparition. Her presence seemed light and ethereal. Clad in snow-white robes, her face was obscured by the cold mist that enveloped her, and her presence radiated a chill.

"Just curious, came to have a look," Alavin said, casting one last glance at the mountainside before turning to leave.

"Are you Alavin?" Her voice was cool and detached.

"Hm?" Alavin turned back, peering into the darkness at the semi-visible figure of the woman.

"This is not a place for you. Leave," she said, not making things difficult for him, but gesturing for him to depart quickly.

Was that Mariela, the Elite Protégé of Botanic Haven? Alavin faintly remembered her, from a time when he had ventured close to Botanic Haven.

No sooner had he left than several Protégés burst forth from the nearby woods and bowed to the woman, "Mariela, did someone approach?"

"Nobody. Return to your posts, be vigilant, and let no one near Botanic Haven."

"Yes!" The Protégés dispersed. Ever since the strange occurrences at Botanic Haven began, they had been on high alert, guarding day and night, forbidding anyone from approaching.

Mariela was about to ascend the mountain when something strange happened; the roaring stopped, and the chains fell silent. She looked back in the direction Alavin had left, her eyes filled with questions.

In the sanctified halls of Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls, nestled within the mighty stronghold of the Cobalt Strike, lay nearly every spell of battle magic known to that esteemed conclave of Mages. It was said that over three hundred unique incantations spanned from the rudimentary cantrips of a green apprentice to the complex arcana wielded by the most seasoned archmages. This library was the hallowed ground in the hearts of all Protégés, yet only those personally mentored by the Elders and the esteemed Golden Protégés were allowed to roam its aisles freely. Aside from being granted a basic Combat Magic initiation, ordinary Protégés were forbidden from stepping foot within its sacred bounds.