The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 112

They suspected Adirich and his ilk might have played a part in Alavin's demise, but no one was foolish enough to speak up. A mere servant was of no concern to them, at best, a topic of idle gossip.

"March!" The Elders ordered once more, and the procession set off, a grand departure.

The Protégés excitedly shared their adventures on the way, some relieved to have completed the hunt, others elated by their gains, and some exchanged tales of their trials, promising to return.

Mariela looked back several times on the journey, never spotting Alavin.

The other Protégés gradually forgot about Alavin; his death, if confirmed, was not worth their sorrow. Instead, they wondered how Cobalt Strike would deal with Azure Mountain's two hundred thousand slaves. Those people had obediently served as slaves partly because a young lord was held captive, preventing rebellion. Now, with the young lord gone, would those two hundred thousand remain subdued?

"If Alavin is truly dead, a lot of lives are at stake," an Elder whispered softly. While Alavin lived, no one cared, but his death would be difficult to explain to the Commander, Hamund, and others.

Two evenings later, intense fighting broke out in the forest ahead, with the roars of beasts thundering through the air.

Protégés craned their necks in curiosity. Could it be mercenary bands hunting beasts? During the hunt, they were reluctant to encounter mercenaries, but now, emboldened, they looked on eagerly.

Leading the way, the Elder waved his hand signaling the group to halt. He eyed the path ahead with a indifferent gaze, wishing to avoid any trouble.

Before long, accompanied by a thunderous roar, a mighty Ironhide Bull came crashing through, hurtling toward the group. Its massive form struck against the sturdy trees, causing a continuous rumble. Trees shook, branches and leaves flew about in disarray—it was a thrilling sight. Many of the female Protégées gasped.

A figure followed swiftly, lunging forward and striking at the bull with a powerful punch. The Ironhide Bull staggered up, letting out a terrified bellow, and fled in panic.

The person flipped through the air, punching fiercely, with a powerful presence. His rotating fists cut through the air with a whooshing sound. However, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the vast crowd beside him. Momentarily distracted, his momentum weakened, and he missed the Ironhide Bull, his fist instead shattering a nearby boulder.

The man looked at the group in surprise, and they stared back in equal astonishment.

"Why have you only just arrived?" the man asked in wonder.

"Alavin?" Many in the company gazed at him in shock.

The Ironhide Bull, having narrowly escaped death beneath Alavin's iron fist, let out a few defiant snorts and vanished into the dense forest.

"Stop it. That's our supper!" Alavin shouted.

A longsword soared into the sky, its blade cutting through the air with chilling sharpness, aiming for the Ironhide Bull.

"Splurch!"

Blood splattered as the longsword effortlessly cleaved through the bull's tough hide. The bull cried out in pain and fell to the ground, unable to rise again.

One strike, and it was slain! The chaos ceased, but the atmosphere turned somewhat strange. Cedrick stepped forward from the group, sheathing his greatsword. "I claim a part of this supper."

Alavin dusted off the stone and dirt from his clothes, looking at the now silent crowd. "You all... shouldn't you have gone back by now?"

"How are you here?" someone asked, still surprised to see Alavin.

"Just the other day, I was deep within Griffin's Roost and couldn't make it to the rendezvous. I figured you wouldn't wait for me, so I didn't go to the meeting point and instead headed back to Cobalt Strike on my own. How are you all even slower than me?"

He hadn't planned on joining the group, preferring to make his own way back, and taking the opportunity to spend a few more days in the wilderness. Another reason was his slight fear of facing Mariela; he was unsure how to confront her.

Someone in the company chuckled softly. “The lad’s got nine lives, he just won’t die, heh.”

“Fall in!” an Elder called sternly. Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“Yes!” Alavin noticed the odd looks on many of the Protégés’ faces but thought nothing of it, muttering to himself, “I just won't die, to the annoyance of you all.”