The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 147

The battlefield air grew tense as Alavin, battered and bruised, rose once more. His fighting spirit burned bright and unyielding. His eyes were bloodshot, and his aura was chillingly murderous.

Ziros and Nelsor quickly shook off their stupor, one tearing open his chest with an axe, the other pounding his shoulder with a fist. They used pain to stimulate their minds, forcibly regaining clarity.

After yesterday's events, all members of the Earthbound Spirits had inquired about Tarner's condition and discussed strategies, to be prepared for when they faced Alavin. And now, their preparation was put to the test!

"Is this what you've been relying on? Then you can bid farewell to this dueling ring!" Ziros and Nelsor shook their heads vigorously, gathering their energy and charging at Alavin without looking back.

Silent as ever, Alavin clenched his teeth against the pain, his murderous intent surging as he charged relentlessly forward.

His hair was wild, his strikes as swift as lightning!

All three warriors plunged into a frenzied state, advancing and retreating, striking and colliding, each movement accompanied by a fierce gust of wind.

Their combat differed from that of other Novice Mages, who relied heavily on ample magic for support, becoming powerless once their magic was exhausted. Instead, these three relied on the clash of raw strength, a dance of blood and sweat that was far more thrilling to watch.

The nobles in the stands rose to their feet, shouting and cheering in encouragement; such intense battles were rarely seen.

A true warrior's fight, full of vigor!

"Madmen! Is this a martial contest or a fight to the death?" Lylian covered her mouth, hardly daring to watch the brutal fight below.

"Today's battle will surely bring fame to Alavin." Many Protégés began to acknowledge him, mad he might be, but he possessed an unyielding spirit and a fierce vitality.

Just then, the fight took a sudden turn, and the Arena fell deathly silent. NôvelDrama.Org holds this content.

On the dueling platform, a scene seemed to freeze in time. Alavin barely intercepted the giant axe that threatened to cleave his head in two. He strained against the force, leaning backward with his arms outstretched towards the sky, precariously clinging onto the powerful swing. The blade paused an eyelash distance away from his nose. Any lapse in his block or inch closer would have resulted in him being cleaved in half, but he held it!

Was it luck? Or was he certain of his ability?

The crowd gasped, a cold sweat breaking out amongst men and women alike. Who dared to catch an Earthbound Spirits axe with their bare hands?

In the next second, as the crowd gasped and Alavin held back the axe, he pushed it aside with great force, somersaulted up, spinning like a top, and with lightning-fast feet, he stomped fiercely into Nelsor's armpit.

Nelsor had just been staggered by Alavin's murderous aura in the previous exchange and was unable to dodge in time, taking a brutal hit.

Alavin's strength was ferocious, shattering Nelsor's ribs under his armpit and sending him flying, snatching the two-meter-long axe in the process.

Nelsor landed more than ten meters away, his right arm nearly numb from the excruciating pain, which snapped him back to full alertness. Alavin's frenzy had ignited his fighting spirit and hot blood;

he would not admit defeat until the very end.

"Ha! Come again!" Alavin roared, swinging the giant axe and slashing at Ziros.

The three hundred pounds axe whistled through the air, and was swung with neither hesitation nor clumsiness, forcing Ziros to retreat continuously as he countered with his fists.

The Protégé were deeply shocked. This was no martial contest; it was a fight to the death.

Passion, dominance, savagery, tragedy.

They witnessed Alavin's might and felt the overwhelming murderous aura. Was this truly a Protégé trained by Cobalt Strike? His madness and bloodlust seemed more akin to a Bloodlore Protégé, while his fury and barbarism were reminiscent of an Earthbound Spirits Protégé.

Orland slowly furrowed his brow, no longer speaking. His gaze was fixed on the battlefield. He suddenly found himself losing his disdain for Alavin, feeling the urge to enter the fray himself for a good, hard fight.

"This fight could wound him badly or even kill him. So, why did he pick this battle?" Felis murmured softly.

"Ziros and Nelsor are the Earthbound Spirits' next best after Orland, and together, they have yet to suppress Alavin." Admus wore a complex expression. If it were him facing either Ziros or Nelsor, victory was not guaranteed, yet Alavin alone withstood them both - it was unimaginable.

Nikulas also watched from below. "Ziros and Nelsor came prepared, not as easily dealt with as Tarner. For Alavin to beat them, it's going to be tough."

"What does Alavin truly want? Is a single victory worth so much?" Semar didn't understand. The fight on the platform had taken a sinister turn. This was no longer a martial contest but a bloody

battle to the death. Alavin was fighting not just with strength but with his life on the line, each move fraught with deadly risk. Any mistake could cost him his life.