The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 4

“It’s nothing; they’re much better now. No need to worry."

"Really, what was the point? You know they'll never let you pass." The young woman set the basket down beside Alavin. She was pure, lovely, fresh, and radiant like a rose, seemingly lively and cheerful. Yet Alavin's pallid complexion brought concern to her face as she scolded him for his rashness.-

"The opportunity was there; how could I not know without trying?"

"That's no opportunity at all. Don't you understand? With pressure from the Grand Elder and the others, no other Elder wants to stir up trouble. I know you're anxious about your family and want to help them, but the more you clash head-on, the more they'll suppress you. Can't you just lower your pride a little?" Carlys lamented as she watched Alavin's pale face.

"Grovel like a dog? Beg for scraps? Plead for mercy? That's not in my nature," declared Alavin with a defiant sneer.

Carlys pursed her rosy lips, holding back further comment. She had tried to reason with him countless times before. Even Celesse had attempted to no avail. She opened her wicker basket, revealing two vials of potions to clear Alavin’s bruises and balance his spirits, along with some finely made pastries. She whispered softly, "Guess who made these?"

"Give my thanks to Celesse. Tell her not to worry about me. Haven't I survived just fine all these years?" Alavin picked up a pastry and savored it, nodding in approval as he chewed. "Celesse's handiwork indeed. Tastes good."

"You call this surviving? It breaks my heart to see you so ragged. Every other day, you have a brawl; either you're beating someone to a bloody pulp, or you're the one left bloody. They're clearly provoking you on purpose. Can't you just avoid them?"

"The weak perish, and the strong suffer. I choose to be strong! Strong forever!"

"Who says that?"

"My father," Alavin's expression grew momentarily somber, then he shook it off and picked up another treat to taste. Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Carlys opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated, carefully watching Alavin's expression, "Do you... hate them? I don't mean anything by it. It's just that people say they actually are..."

"Hate? Why should I hate them? They would never abandon me nor their kin."

"I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn." Carlys realized she had touched upon a painful subject for Alavin.

"I'm fine. Don't worry."

"By the way, Celesse reminded me to tell you, revealing your Novice Mage abilities after months of silence will draw lots of attention and likely suppression from others. Be prepared."

"Have I ever been afraid? After eight years, I've finally broken through to Novice Mage. This is just the beginning. I'll grow stronger and make the Cobalt Strike leadership take real notice of me. One day, I will free my kin and the twenty thousand townsfolk," Alavin said casually, but his tone was laced with a resolve known only to himself.

"Don’t be reckless. You've endured eight years, so what's a little longer? If you truly feel someone's out to harm you, run to Celesse. We might not save Stormcast, but we can surely protect you..."

"Bang!"

The iron gate to the shed burst open, and Tyral swaggered in with his cronies.

"Tyral! What are you doing here?" Carlys snapped, startled.

Tyral wasn't surprised to find Carlys there. "Isn't this Carlys? Long time no see, I barely recognized you."

"I'm asking you, what are you doing here?"

"Since when do I need to report his comings and goings to you?"

"You're not welcome here. Get out!" Carlys knew all too well why they had come.

"Is this your house?" Tyral smirked wickedly, and his cronies snickering rudely.

"You..."

Alavin, seated on a stone bench and not bothering to rise, continued to enjoy his pastries. "No point in getting angry over trash."

"Convict Alavin, what did you just say? Dare to repeat it?" Tyral advanced towards them.

"I've said it many times over the years. What, got a taste for it?"

"Alavin, he's not the Tyral of old anymore," Carlys quickly reminded him.

"Nor am I the same as before." Alavin had been holding back for over two months, breaking through barriers. Although humiliated by Elder Jaslin today, his strength was no longer that of an Apprentice.

"Is that so?" Tyral signaled his cronies to secure the iron gate and stood before Alavin, looking down on him with a sneer.

Alavin raised an eyebrow, glanced at Tyral, and stood up from the stone bench, towering over him. Now it was he who looked down on Tyral. "You have business here?"

Tyral's bravado faltered, and he fumed, "Alavin, I don't understand where a convict like you gets your sense of superiority!"

"Speak your piece or be gone."

"I challenge you!" Tyral was done with words. He yearned to brutally beat Alavin, to vent his anger. With determination, his hands burst into flames, roaring with power.

Magic manifest, he was a Novice Mage!

"How far have you reached in two months?" Alavin glanced at the flames in his hands, unsurprised.

"Novice Mage! Stage III!" Tyral puffed out his chest proudly. He had been absent because Elder Jaslin had taken him under his wing, thanks to his sister's intervention. Under the Elder's tutelage, he had rapidly advanced two stages, from a Novice Mage initiate to Stage III.

His lackeys shared Tyral's pride.

"Listen up, Alavin. Tyral passed today's test with top marks, and even received a Pearlwort from Magnus Elder!

"Do you even know what Pearlwort is? It's an Advanced Elixir Herb!

"In ten days, Tyral will enter the Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls to receive a powerful Combat Magic legacy. He may become an Elite Protégé and grow into a Golden Protégé. And you? Keep toiling away in this warehouse, haha.

"From now on, you'll only be able to stare at Tyral's back, haha."

Alavin's expression finally shifted at the mention of Pearlwort. His gaze flickered towards the embroidered pouch on Tyral's waist.