The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 57

Celesse had not secluded herself for arcane training in the last five days, having been granted a 'holiday' by her master to rest.

When not training, she was almost always by Alavin's side, either leisurely enjoying the moments or aiding him in his magical practices.

She worried that Alavin couldn't control the Goliath Force, especially the powerful fifth sequence known as 'Shadow Sabre.' While it could unleash a strength five times greater than normal, it also produced a backlash weighing thousands of pounds that could injure the wielder as much as the enemy. Many a sturdy Protégé in history had attempted to master the Goliath Force and ended up hurt or crippled. Only Brunn, an Elite Protégé, had managed to master it over the past decades, and since then, few dared to touch the Goliath Force.

Fortunately, Alavin's recent performances had been impressive, gradually easing Celesse's concerns and astonishing her with his resilience. It seemed he could manage not just a fivefold burst but even a sixfold one.

Carlys would occasionally come to check in, startled by Alavin's exaggerated prowess.

"Is this the place?" Marak arrived at the foot of a hundred-meter-tall hill. Compared to the towering mountains nearby, this hill looked more like a mound, hardly noticeable unless one looked closely. To have exclusive use of a hilltop in Cobalt Strike, this Protégé must have held some status, Marak mused.

"Right here." Tyral sneered inwardly but kept a polite demeanor as he walked up the mountain path.

"What is this Protégé's rank? A Golden Protégé?" Marak began to take this previously unseen rival seriously.

"He is a servant."

"A servant?"

"A drudge." Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

"Are you jesting with me?" Marak rarely joked and disliked such humor.

"I dare not. The summit is not a manor but a storehouse. This Protégé has been a servant since the age of seven, for a full eight years."

"Celesse is here?" Marak frowned upon hearing this. He’s love rival was a lowborn?

"Let's see for ourselves. Oh, and his name is Alavin!"

In the courtyard, Alavin had just completed the fifth sequence of Goliath Force, shattering a massive boulder into gravel. Standing at the edge of the rubble, his body was burning hot, skin reddened as if boiled, emitting astonishing heat and covered in sweat. Gasping for breath, his muscular form rhythmically pulsed with every heave of his chest. Though only fifteen, he bore the virile beauty of a twenty-year-old.

"How do you feel? Is the weakness still strong?" Celesse gently wiped Alavin's sweat with a silk cloth.

"Better this time... At least I didn't end up sitting on the ground..." Alavin propped himself up, dizzy and slightly delirious. The fifth sequence was potent, and capable of delivering a force of several thousand pounds in an instant, but that burst of energy drained his strength, leaving a profound sensation of weakness.

"There's still half a month before the tournament. Don't rush it." Celesse had originally estimated that Alavin mastering the fifth sequence ten days before the competition would be quite an

achievement. Surprisingly, he had accomplished it eighteen days early and was adapting gradually.

Alavin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “The power can still grow stronger.”

“You’ve already done very well…" Celesse suddenly let out a soft exclamation. Was someone coming? Who would visit at this time?

She sensed multiple strong presences outside the door. Her gaze turned icy as she put on her veil, positioning herself protectively in front of Alavin.

Tyral arrived at the iron gate, listening briefly, then pushed it open with a smirk. He saw the red-hot, panting Alavin and noticed Celesse standing silently by his side.

Marak's eyes swept over Alavin, still in the midst of his practice, but his gaze settled on Celesse.

Was this her? The Golden Protégé Celesse of Cobalt Strike? The woman who might become his wife.

Veiled in a light scarf, her figure was graceful, and curves enchanting, her eyes like autumn pool. Even from this angle, there appeared to be a faint shimmer surrounding her, an aura of purity and sanctity. Although her true face was hidden, her presence and poise captivated Marak's attention immediately. His heart skipped a beat, and a smile spread across his face. Excellent!

But what about that man, bare-chested and only in shorts, with no decorum at all!

A delicate maiden in the company of such a man?! Could it be any less proper?

"Lady Celesse, we finally meet," Marak said with a smile as he walked into the storehouse courtyard.

He cleared his throat, ready to offer a courteous greeting, but Celesse spoke indifferently, "We are not receiving guests today. Please leave."

"You may not know me; allow me to introduce myself."

"There's no need. Please leave." Celesse dismissed him coldly, recognizing him as a stranger but paying him no heed.

Had anyone else refused him so, Marak would have been irate, but today, his temper was unusually mild. "Lady Celesse, I'm no villain, you see. I merely wish to make an acquaintance."

Tyral's smile was forced. "Lady Celesse, this guest hails from Lord Viperbane."

Lord Viperbane? Celesse wondered. What was strange wasn't the visitor's identity but that someone from Lord Viperbane—known for their pride and conflict with Cobalt Strike—would come here, to a storehouse of all places.