Yet some in the crowd cheered loudly, "Brilliant victory for Galos!"

"That final move was splendid, blending feint with strike, a single blow to decide the outcome."

Galos stood at the edge of the platform, casting a cold glance at the screaming Broden, snorting in disdain. "How dare you hurt me? Foolish." His smile returned. He prepared to bask in the adulation of the crowd, but his gaze unexpectedly fell on Alavin atop the distant stone urn. Surprised, he smiled, thinking, "What's that lad doing here?"

Galos was one of the Elite Protégés of the Grand Elder of the Cobalt Strike Circle, and, naturally, also one of his most trusted confidants. He had always kept a watchful eye on Alavin, the young lord who had been singled out for punishment by the Grand Elder.

"Well, if it isn't Lord Alavin," Galos said with a sneer as he approached Alavin, having heard that the young man had quietly reached the third stage of his Novice Mage training.

"Good day to you, Master Galos, and farewell," Alavin said, eager to leave the place. As a Freshman, he was not permitted to be present at the Arena, let alone in his additional role as a 'servant.' "Hey, don't go, this Elite Protégé is greeting you, servant," taunted the five people who had just been rebuffed by Alavin, emphasizing the word 'servant' with scorn. "Move aside!"

The five sneered, "No way!"

Boom! Alavin thrust his palm into the chest of the Protégé in front of him, channeling his force in a concentrated burst that sent the man, still smiling, flying through the air. He landed on steep steps, bounced powerfully off the ground, and rolled hundreds of meters down to the foot of the mountain, motionless.

The smiles froze on the faces of the other four men as they turned their heads in shock and swallowed hard. A question popped into their heads, "Dude, are you still alive?"

Many Protégés watching at the side couldn't help but grimace; touching Alavin was like touching a hedgehog - a prickly affair.

"Have you found some leisure time to come and watch the battles in the Arena?" Galos asked Alavin with a smile as he stepped down from the dueling platform, and the Protégés between them instinctively parted to make way.

"Just delivering goods," Alavin replied helplessly, unable to leave.

"Don't be so tense; I won't hold it against you for sneaking a peek at the duels. I heard you've reached Novice Mage Stage III. Congratulations."

"Thank you for your concern."

"I'm curious, how did you do it? I've heard you haven't practiced Combat Magic, nor have you used Elixir Herbs."

"That's none of your business, is it?" Alavin was well aware of what kind of person Galos was; he was clearly looking for trouble.

"What a way to speak, such an impolite fellow," the four Protégés couldn't help but hurl another insult, only to be silenced by a glance from Alavin.

The other people in the Arena sensed trouble; Galos suddenly taking an interest in Alavin was surely not a good sign.

Galos' smile was warm and his appearance radiant, "Our young Lord Alavin has never graced the dueling stage, has he? Come, take a stand on it, feel the atmosphere. Don't worry, if anything happens, I'll take responsibility. No one will punish you."

"No need, we'll talk another day. I have goods to deliver," Alavin said as he picked up a stone urn to leave.

Galos' followers blocked his path with a chuckle. "We advise you to take a stand up there."

Alavin shook his head with a smile. "Master Galos, as an Elite Protégé, surely you have no need to hassle someone who's just delivering goods."

"Don't be so tense; I truly mean no harm. I just want to spar with you and see for myself just how much combat power you have as a Stage III. Although we're the same age, my level is a bit higher, but if you don't mind, I could offer you some tips. How about it? Opportunities like this are rare," Galos said with a smile plastered on his face.

But the implied meaning was clear to everyone present; Galos was using the pretext of sparring to teach Alavin a lesson. An Elite Protégé of Stage VII challenging someone without Combat Magic at Stage III was clearly an act of bullying. Although Alavin was strong, facing a Novice Mage Stage IV would likely be his limit. Gudmund had been defeated so swiftly just now because he was seriously injured and caught off-guard.

The other Protégés waited for Alavin's response.

Someone couldn't watch it any longer. "Galos, don't go too far. You're at Stage VII, and he's just at Stage III and hasn't even trained in Combat Magic."

Galos glanced coldly into the crowd. "What are you implying? Don't stir up trouble between me and Lord Alavin. We're just engaging in a normal sparring and mentoring session."

"Mentoring, my foot!" thought the onlooker silently, but held their tongue.

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