The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

The arena was silent; nobody had seen clearly what had happened in that split second.

Had Alavin won? He defeated Galos? Had he, a Novice Mage of Stage V, truly beaten an Elite Protégé of Stage VII?

Defeating an ordinary Protégé was one thing, but Galos was a direct apprentice, and not just any, but the Grand Elder's. Such an inconceivable event had actually unfolded before their very eyes. "My hand, my hand..." Galos rolled on the ground, and his screams were growing hoarse, causing many of the female Protégées to turn away, unable to watch the dueling platform any longer. "Galos!" Several Protégés snapped to their senses, rushing onto the platform to clumsily help Galos.

Galos was pale, sweating profusely, breathing heavily, screaming in disbelief, and so pained that he lacked the energy to curse Alavin. His hand was broken, and the wound was horrific. Alavin swayed for a moment, then sat down exhaustedly on the cold stone surface of the dueling platform.

The silence continued, and thousands of Protégés stared at him oddly, forgetting to cheer, unsure of what to cheer for.

Mariela, Nikulas, Myke, and others remained silent.

"Alavin, you've stirred up trouble, and we shall see what comes of it," growled the few apprentices as they hastily carried Galos away from the Arena, hoping that swift aid might yet save his hand. But Celesse suddenly blocked their path, her voice icy, "A bet made is a debt unpaid!"

"What do you mean?" The apprentices glared at Celesse.

"Three stalks of Pearlwort."

"We will pay."

"Now!"

"We will pay!"

"Now!" Celesse's voice rose sharply, her frosty tone laced with undeniable authority. This scene caused many onlookers to pale, staring at Celesse with disbelief, even more shocked than when they witnessed Alavin cast the Shockwave Cobra. What was this? Celesse had such a steely side.

"Celesse, don't push us too far." Galos managed through his pallor and cold sweat from the pain.

"Three stalks of Pearlwort. You made a bet. If you can't accept that, what sort of Elite Protégé are you?" Celesse stood firm, not an inch of give in her stance. Galos had stepped into the Arena today intending to cripple, even kill, Alavin. There was no need for mercy against such a foe.

"We will pay!" one Protégé nearly roared.

"Are you deaf? Bring it forth! Right now!" Carlys stood beside Celesse, even less polite. "If you come to compete, you should have brought the Pearlwort in advance as a basic sign of respect. What, you never considered you might lose?"

"Go fetch it!" Galos urged the Protégé, his face ashen.

The Protégé rushed off, but the journey from the Arena to Galos' quarters and back was at least the time it took a candle to burn, and since Galos certainly didn't have three stalks of Pearlwort, they'd have to gather it from elsewhere. They couldn't return within half an hour.

Celesse stood there like an iceberg, her chilling presence anchoring one edge of the dueling platform. Not only did this anger Galos and his entourage, but it also cast heavy pressure on the entire audience. Goldgrace Roald watched Celesse's resolve, then cast a intense, icy look at Alavin before silently withdrawing.

"Alavin... Alavin... How interesting..." Nikulas and Myke exchanged glances for a few seconds, both smiling silently, then left the Arena amidst the quiet.

Clap! Clap! Clap! Cedrick applauded thrice before departing from the Arena.

Balder stood among the crowd, his eyes shining as he watched Alavin. If before he was merely curious, now he was considering an alliance.

Mariela had already left the Arena, unnoticed by all at the moment of her departure.

One by one, the Elite Protégés left, each with varying degrees of acknowledgment. The other Protégés remained, buzzing with excitement and fervent discussion. The atmosphere was growing heated. Celesse instructed Carlys, "Take Alavin back first."

Carlys darted to Alavin's side, boldly helping him up without concern for appearances. "Can you walk?"

Alavin took a moment, then steadied himself to rise.

A path opened in the crowd, and eyes followed him as he left the Arena.

The outcome of today's battle had taken everyone by surprise. How could a Stage V Mage triumph over a Stage VII? Moreover, Alavin was self-taught, while Galos had been personally tutored by an Elder; they shouldn't even be on the same level.

Some pondered over Alavin's Combat Magic; one set he had found two months prior, another he had taken from the Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls a month ago, both mastered with ease. Was this young man a prodigy?

Regardless, after today, Alavin's name would no longer be confined to the lower echelons. He had earned the regard of many Elite Protégés.