The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 22

“Chase him! Alavin is not familiar with these lands; he can't have gone far." Nysah bore a grudge against Alavin ever since the day she was grievously wounded. She had been plotting how to deal with Alavin, and the more she thought about it, the more she despised him, and the more she wanted to end his life. It had not been easy, but she finally convinced the Protégés of the Botanic Haven to recruit Alavin into their herb gathering party, taking him far from Cobalt Strike. This was a rare opportunity that Nysah could not let slip away again.

Beneath the sheer face of Eagle's Beak Cliff, Alavin hung suspended, hearing their conversation with crystal clarity. His gaze grew colder by the second. He had thought that Nysah only intended to teach him a lesson, to humiliate him; he had not expected Nysah to seek his life.

In the dense and dark forest, where beasts roamed, and Magi-Monsters howled, the air was thick with the scent of danger. The towering ancient trees loomed like monstrous figures in the shadows, sending shivers down one's spine.

From dawn till now, Nysah and her party had not found a trace of Alavin. The higher the Mage's realm, the more sensitive their Mindfulness became. With the strength of the five of them, finding Alavin should have been effortless, and it should be only a matter of time, but until now, they hadn't found anything.

"It doesn't make sense. Alavin is weak and inexperienced; he shouldn't be able to escape our tracking."

"With his strength, any encounter with a Magi-Monster would leave him no choice but to flee. He should be easy for us to discover."

"Hmph, perhaps a Magi-Monster has already made a snack of him."

Their expressions were sour. A mere servant had led them on a chase for an entire day, and it was an embarrassment to them all. They all wanted to show their worth before Nysah, but now they had all been put in an awkward position.

"Alavin won't be able to hide for long, especially not at night," Nysah said coldly as she led the way. They had to find Alavin tonight; the longer they delayed, the further and deeper he could hide, making it even more troublesome to find him later.

"The little rat is quite good at hiding," muttered a young man, trailing behind the group, carrying a silver lance. Suddenly, he furrowed his brow. "Wait!"

"What is it?" The four others were instantly on alert, listening intently to the sounds around them.

"Do you think... Alavin never left the summit?" This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

"We scoured the summit and even swept through the forests on our descent. It's impossible for him to be there."

"What I mean is, could he be hiding somewhere beneath Eagle's Beak Cliff?" The young man with the silver lance was cut off abruptly as he spun around, his sharp eyes piercing the darkness.

At that moment, three bolts of lethal light tore through the night, whirling with a howling wind, and struck at them.

"Damn!" The lance bearer shouted coldly. His weapon twirled, grazed the ground, and struck upward in a blazing arc. His lance tip deftly met the first bolt of light.

But...

Clang! A deafening ring exploded when the silver lance clashed with the first bolt. It was a throwing knife, its force terrifying. It disrupted his technique, nearly causing him to stumble as the remaining

two knives continued unabated, thumping into his flesh.

The knives were strong; one pierced through his abdomen and another through his shoulder, blood spraying.

"Ah..." The young man screamed in pain. He was thrown off balance by the force of the knives.

"Who goes there?" Nysah and the others paled.

A figure burst from the darkness ahead, sprinting forward, and in a blink, was in front of the lance bearer, unleashing a flurry of punches with howling force and brutal power.

"Save me!" The lance bearer cried out, blood spraying, and terror on his face.

Crack! The Goliath Force crushed down on his chest like the force of a thousand pounds erupting, instantly shattering his breastbone and sending him flying. His broken ribs punctured his heart, and the lance Protégé spat blood as he was flung backward.

The others were shaken, and the two nearest men shouted, "Stop him!"

One brandished his swords, slashing fiercely, blades gleaming with blinding golden light, casting countless shadows. "Sword Dance, Shadow Slash!"

Another thrust out his palms, surging earth energy swirling violently, stirring up clouds of dust. "Earth's Fury!"

The figure sprinted, leaped three meters high into the treetops, and hurled three more throwing knives with explosive force. Their gleaming arcs locked onto the two men.

They could barely see in the darkness, but they felt the danger and hastily dodged aside.

The figure descended like a meteor, his body coiled and released like a spring, charging at the retreating swordsman.

"Argh!" The swordsman roared fiercely, lunging to meet the attack.

The shadowy figure, sprinting low, flipped at the last moment, avoiding the blades and using his right palm to spring sideways. His feet, charged with mighty strength, sparked with blinding lightning and struck like a hammering storm at the swordsman's belly.

So fast! The swordsman's face contorted, and his vision blurred by the sudden flare of lightning. He tried to dodge, but while he managed to evade one kick, he couldn't escape the next. The figure's relentless assault pounded him, sending him flying. He lay curled up on the ground, struggling to catch his breath.

"Earth's Fury!" the other Protégé called out, his palms a blur. The mighty earth energy swirled and whistled around him, stirring up a tempest of sand and stone.

The figure landed, stood tall, and collided head-on. Just before impact, he leaped, and his feet whirled, lightning and brute force meeting Earth's Fury.

Crack, crack, crack! The lightning was destroyed. Against the Combat Magic of a Stage VI mage, the lightning weakened substantially, but the figure's true force lay in the brutal strength and explosive power of his feet. They hammered down on the Protégé's hands, shattering the earthen shield and tearing the flesh.

The figure spun in midair, and a kick was aimed squarely at his opponent's face.

The man dodged desperately, narrowly escaping, but the figure was relentless, following up with a crushing blow to his chest. The force was ferocious.

The Protégé spat blood and was sent flying, tumbling through the underbrush. He did not recover for a long while.