The Legendary Mage (Alavin)
Chapter 80

"You must be Alavin," Brunn said, stopping three paces away and sizing him up.

"Hello Brunn," Alavin greeted with a respectful fist-over-palm salute, neither servile nor overbearing.

"How much can you lift with a single punch?"

"About nine hundred pounds now," replied Alavin, whose realm had advanced, enhancing his physique and granting him a fist strength well over a thousand pounds.

"You've mastered the Goliath Force in a month's time?"

"I've watched you practice it before, brother. I've been imitating and had some ideas, so my progress has been swift."

Brunn actually nodded slowly. "You are indeed gifted! Care for a friendly bout some day?"

"Whenever you're inclined, I'm at your service," Alavin said with a smile, extending his hand.

The two clasped hands in mid-air, their clasp echoing through the Arena.

This turn of events left many who had been eager for a spectacle dumbfounded. Was that it? Since when was Brunn so amiable?

At that moment, a large group approached the Arena, numbering over a hundred, hailing from different warrior factions. Yet, they all shared the same identity-they were from the Grand Elder's faction. The Grand Elder held considerable influence within Cobalt Strike, with seven or eight Elders in absolute support.

Among the approaching party were several Elite Protégés, all loyal to the Grand Elder or his staunch Elders. They quickly noticed Alavin upon arriving at the Arena, each wearing a peculiar grin. The atmosphere of the Arena quieted somewhat, with many gazes drifting towards this new development.

Alavin, prepared for this moment, turned and walked to a corner of the Arena, preferring not to confront them just yet. The hunting festival would last thirty days, and he wanted to visit his kin in the Azure Mountain before returning to face them in earnest.

"Are you Alavin?"

"Halt! Are you deaf to my questions?"

"Stop pretending. I know you can hear me."

Several young men and women emerged from the group, advancing towards Alavin.

"What is it?" Alavin turned reluctantly, facing them.

A tall, thin Protégé stepped up to Alavin's side, poking his belongings. "What's in there?" "None of your concern."

The Protégé prodded again. "Do you really think you can compete in the great hunt?"

Alavin gave him a sidelong glance, chuckling. "Isn't it obvious?"

The Protégés circled Alavin, taunting him with a mix of sarcasm and mockery.

"You've got some nerve showing up here. What, if they told you to die, would you just obey?"

"Ha, look at you, boy. Open your eyes and see, every Protégé here is at least a Novice Mage of Stage VI."

"Is a mere servant trying to break into the ranks of the senior Protégés? Should we call you thick-skinned or just delusional?"

"Don't think that just because you defeated Galos, you can challenge a Stage VII Mage. He was off his game that day. Let's see you match up once he's recovered."

"Get lost! Go back to where you came from! The hunt is a game for the brave, not for servants like you."

Alavin shook his head with a smile. "Is this really amusing to you?"

"I find it quite amusing! Don't you?"

"Enough chit-chat, get lost!"

"Always acting so high and mighty, do you really think you can still play the lord? You should thank us for not finishing you off in these eight years."

The group of Protégés purposefully came to shame Alavin-stay and be humiliated; leave, and it was submission, ensuring he'd never hold his head high in Cobalt Strike again.

Alavin remained dignified. "The hunt has already begun. It's better to cross blades in the forest than to flap gums here."

"Cross blades? You think you can stand against me...?" Just as a tall, lanky youth was about to get in Alavin's face, a dark, gleaming war blade suddenly sliced through the air between them.

"Who the hell..." The Protégés were about to rage, but their faces changed as they fell silent. Cedrick?!

Cedrick, wild-haired and with eyes sharp as daggers, radiated an intense, fierce aura as he stepped forward with his blade. The flat of his sword slapped against the tall youth's cheek with a sharp crack. "Back off!"

"Cedrick, what... what are you trying to do...?" Their bravado faded, and no one dared resist as they stepped back.

The Grand Elder's faction, numbering in the hundreds, shifted uneasily, frowning at the unfolding scene.mOthers exchanged glances, surprised by Cedrick's sudden intervention.

In the new generation of Cobalt Strike, Cedrick's talent and strength were unquestionable, rivaling even that of the Golden Protégés-and his wild nature and deep connections made him even more formidable.

Cedrick stood before Alavin, the blade's edge pressed against the throat of the tall Protégé. "One should know their place. Had you been given the same resources as Alavin eight years ago, you wouldn't even be fit to carry his boots today, so don't act so petty. If you've got the guts, kill him now. If not, stay out of his way."

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