Chapter 5
Chapter 5
"Word has it you've fumbled your way into the ranks of the Novice Mages, feeling proud and smug? Today, I'll make it crystal clear—that you and I are worlds apart. We're not even fated to the same destiny!" Tyral's presence surged as he bolted forward, taking a dozen strides before leaping into the air, spinning a full 720 degrees to land deftly behind Alavin. His movements were fluid and fierce, a cold smirk playing on his lips as his fist, engulfed in raging flames, rocketed toward the back of Alavin's neck.
Fierce flames were boiling intensely in his right fist. He's not just aiming to beat Alavin; he's determined to give him a brutal lesson. He's been waiting for this moment for far too long. NôvelDrama.Org owns all content.
His followers erupted in excitement, cheering raucously.
"Tyral, that's too much!" Carlys quickly intervened.
But in the flicker of a lightning strike, Alavin spun around. His clenched right fist suddenly splayed open, with lightning crackling chaotically between his fingers, dazzlingly brightly.
Boom!
Alavin's open palm caught Tyral's fiery punch, an impossible move, and lightning and flame intertwined in a wild dance, neither yielding an inch.
Alavin stood unshaken, and his feet were rooted firmly on the stone bench.
Tyral's eyes widened in disbelief. How could this be? He was confident in his ambush. He was a Stage III Novice Mage, while Alavin was merely in Stage II, right?
Carlys gaped, equally dumbfounded. Alavin was Stage III? Since when?
With immense strength, Alavin closed his hand around Tyral's flaming fist, crushing it like a vice.
"You..." Tyral suddenly realized the truth.
Alavin blinked, a sly grin on his face as he gathered his energy, powering up from his waist. With a swift step, he lifted Tyral off his feet, spinning him around before slamming him hard into the ground.
The thud echoed through the courtyard. Tyral plastered to the earth, and his arm twisted nearly into a spiral. His screams pierced the air.
"Tyral!"
"You bastard! Let him go!"
His cronies rushed in, panic-stricken.
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm also of in Stage III! You talk big, but indeed, we're not on the same level," Alavin said as he swung Tyral about the yard like a sack of grain. The pitiful screams added a grim soundtrack to the exaggerated scene.
With a sudden twirl, Alavin let go, sending Tyral crashing into the warehouse's iron gates.
Carlys covered her mouth in shock.
"Alavin, you scum! You've truly done it now," Tyral’s cronies cursed as they charged, but Alavin glared fiercely and bellowed, "Begone!"
The group halted in their tracks as if struck by a spell.
Tyral struggled to his feet, and was about to explode with rage, only to see Alavin striding towards him. "Alavin... stay back... we can talk this out... don't come any closer..."
Alavin stood before him, cracking his neck and flexing his muscles, the sound crisp in the air. "Does it hurt?"
"It hurts! Really hurts! Let's not be hasty..." Tyral was both shocked and panicked. How could Alavin become Stage III?
"What's this? Pearlwort, perhaps? Hand it over," Alavin said, snatching Tyral's pouch from his belt.
"You..." Tyral was livid.
"Hmm? Do you have something to say?"
"Fine! Take it!"
"Thank you, kindly." Alavin weighed the pouch, pulling out a vibrant Elixir Herb. Its fluorescent glow was unmistakable. It was indeed the advanced Elixir Herb Pearlwort, a treasure he'd never used but knew well the worth of.
Tyral scrambled to put distance between them. His mind was on the brink of collapse. How could Alavin have ascended to Stage III so quickly?
His cronies gathered around, helping him up.
"Something's amiss. How could he have advanced so swiftly?" They, too, found Alavin's power hard to believe.
"Carlys, you're behind this!" Tyral turned his fury on her. The Grand Elder had decreed that no one from the Cobalt Strike was to provide Alavin with Elixir Herbs or Combat Magic, nor offer him energy guidance—that was his punishment. But Alavin's sudden leap to Stage III was suspicious.
Carlys tossed her head defiantly. "And what if I am? You're pathetic and relied on your sister to got to where you are. With your lack of talent, even the Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls wouldn't see you succeed."
"You..."
"Don't think you can strut around just because you have a prancing sister. She's not even a big shot in the Cobalt Strike."
"Very well! You will wait and see!" Tyral stormed off, casting a longing glance back at the pouch in Alavin's hand, his heart bleeding.
"Come by anytime, and don't forget to bring gifts," Alavin called after him, dismissive.
"You'll regret this!"
"Hah, the fool gifted me a Pearlwort." Alavin chuckled, sitting back on the stone bench to examine his prize. All those years of hearing empty threats and bravado had long since grown tiresome.
"Alavin, I heard that!" Tyral almost turned back.
"I meant for you to hear it."
Just as Tyral was about to lose his temper, a fellow Protégé quickly held him down and escorted him away. This madman turned out to be more powerful than they expected — too powerful to provoke, so it was best to beat a hasty retreat.
"You've reached Novice Mage Stage III?" Carlys couldn't believe it. Two months ago, Alavin couldn't even manifest his magic outwardly, so how on earth had he suddenly reached Novice Mage Stage III? Although Alavin had been elusive these past few months and acted rather peculiarly, it still seemed too quick a rise in power.
"I broke through to Stage III five days ago."
"How did you manage that?"
"I just sort of stumbled into it."
"I don't buy that for one second." Carlys looked at Alavin with suspicion, her heart heavy with emotion. Those folks had suppressed him for eight years, and yet he had turned the tables on them. Without any external aid or the guidance of an Elder, he'd managed to progress on his own. His advancement to Novice Mage was frightening enough, but now he had even advanced to Novice Mage Stage III — there had to be something fishy going on.
"Two months to reach Stage III isn't that exaggerated, is it? It's only the early stages of being a Novice Mage."