The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

The following morning, after completing his deliveries, Alavin returned to the warehouse, carrying a stone urn, only to see Celesse standing beneath the ancient tree in the courtyard, gazing silently at the lone grave marked by an unlettered tombstone.

Celesse was the picture of grace and beauty, standing tall and fair. From any angle, her presence was enchanting, as if she were a fairy who stepped right out of a painting.

Her hair fell like a cascade, softly draped over her purple gown that hugged her flawless figure just so.

"Who lies buried in this grave?" Celesse remembered the old man's lonely and desolate figure, who sat by the grave day and night, in fair weather and foul, keeping vigil for the departed and tending to the magnolia flowers by the tombstone. His expression of solitude and weary sadness stirred a deep pang of compassion in those who saw him.

She had once asked her mentor about the old man, who he was, where he came from. To her surprise, her mentor did not even know of the old man's existence and had even gone as far as to investigate from afar, later stating that he was just an ordinary man, devoid of any magical aura, not a Mage at all.

An old man, alone and unheeded by the denizens of Cobalt Strike, yet Celesse knew in her heart that this man was no ordinary individual.

"The old man never spoke of the person in the grave," Alavin said as he walked into the warehouse, setting down the stone urn, and drawing water from the well to wash away the sweat of labor. "Did he leave nothing behind when he departed?"

"He left behind an Arcanum, an ancient sword, and a note with a single word on it-'Fate," Alavin revealed, scooping water to wash without concealing it from Celesse.

"Fate," Celesse murmured to herself, staring at the lone grave. "Does it speak of you, of him, or perhaps of destiny itself?"

"I have a premonition that one day we will see the old man again," Alavin said, dousing himself with the cool water, shaking his head to refresh himself, and smiling. "When that day comes, I'll make sure he sees a different version of me."

"I believe in you," Celesse replied, her beauty shining even behind the veil of her purple dress, and her smile brightening the whole courtyard. "I have some good news to share." Alavin grinned. "I always love good news."

"You've been officially recognized for your mastery of the Indigo Viper technique. The Elders have decreed that this Combat Magic is your personal property and not a part of the Cobalt Strike's magical arsenal They debated for five days, initially preparing to punish you, thinking someone else had secretly taught you the Combat Magic, but in the end, they found no evidence."

"So, does that mean I can frequently exchange Combat Magic from the outside now?"

"You already have plenty of Combat Magic, and as a Novice Mage, you don't need that much."

Alavin finished cleaning up and donned fresh clothes, stepping out and stretching his limbs, ready to practice with his Dawnedge Blade. "Care for a sparring match?"

"Another time. Today, I've come to say farewell."

"Where are you headed?" Alavin asked in surprise.

"I'm entering seclusion for three months, traveling with my mentor for training; it might be a long while before I return."

"Where will you be training?" Alavin felt happy for Celesse, knowing that to advance her skills, she indeed needed to venture into the world and face danger and hardship. With her mentor Hamund accompanying her, her safety was assured.

"My mentor is still considering. Originally, I was supposed to participate in The Clash of Eight Orders before venturing out, but now the plans have changed."

"The Clash of Eight Orders?" Alavin recalled the grand meeting that took place every two years, hosted by the Eight Orders of the Northlands. At these gatherings, the leaders of the Eight Orders met, and their Protégés sparred in combat, a tradition that had been carried on for centuries.

The entire Northlands paid attention on the day of the gathering.

As the rulers of the Northlands, any major decision made by the Eight Orders could directly influence the region's fate for the next two years, and even the 'Five Lords' took it seriously.

For the common folk, the sparring matches were of great interest. The level of competition could represent the strongest of the new generation in the Northlands, and the top five from each gathering would gain widespread recognition, sometimes even earning unique titles, a supreme honor.