The Legendary Mage (Alavin) novel Chapter 113

As dusk descended upon the land, the weary band of adventurers found a suitable clearing within the ancient forest to set up their encampment.

A single Ironhide Bull was clearly insufficient to feed the six hundred souls present, so the middle-aged Protégés set out in groups to hunt, bringing back various Magi-Monsters to roast over open fires.

Gathered in groups of a dozen or so, they spread out across the woodland, their lively chatter mingling with the crackle of flames.

"Alavin, how on earth have you managed to survive these days?" Some Protégés gathered around Alavin's campfire, partaking in the bountiful bull meat, eyeing him curiously. His appearance was striking; his clothes were clean and in order, his hair well-groomed, and his complexion rosy, seemingly faring better than the rest.

"Was I supposed to perish?" Alavin quipped with a laugh.

"No offense meant, we're just curious."

"Just persevering, I suppose. I've been rather fortunate; death seems to avoid me. Eight years and still going strong. I reckon I could last another eight."

A chorus of good-natured laughter followed.

Cedrick, nonchalantly picking a piece of the bull meat from the grill, commented, "You seem stronger."

"Have you a keen sense for auras?" Alavin asked, tossing another log onto the fire.

"I've seen you before."

Alavin raised an eyebrow at Cedrick, who tilted his head, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

By the fire, the others couldn't help but sense the strange interest Cedrick had in Alavin.

Cedrick took a swig from his flask, then offered it to Alavin. "How did you manage it?"

"Fortune favors me, and I've stumbled upon a few opportunities," Alavin replied, after taking a gulp from the flask, preferring to keep it brief. This odd fellow always seemed dangerous, an enigma hard to decipher.

Just then, Mariela arrived with the Protégés from Botanic Haven.

"Mariela?" The nearby Protégés stood up, admiring the woman who was as pristine and cold as a snowflake by the glow of the campfire.

"Where is the Voilet Thistle?" asked Mariela, her gaze icy.

"I tossed all five. How do you think I survived?"

"Prove it," the Botanic Haven Protégés demanded, skeptical of Alavin. They had searched for three days to find Mariela, nearly driven to madness, yet she had not mentioned what had transpired that day, only that Alavin had taken the Voilet Thistle.