The Legendary Mage (Alavin) novel Chapter 121

After the announcement of the participants for The Clash of Eight Orders, the whole of Cobalt Strike was abuzz with excitement.

The time for The Clash of Eight Orders had come around once again.

Cobalt Strike had not achieved a notable ranking in the last three tournaments, and not only did the Elders feel the pressure, but the younger generation of Protégés also felt dishonored. However, this time seemed different. Their lineup was unprecedented; even without Celesse in the fray, the four Golden Protégés and the likes of Cedrick were a formidable force, their collective strength far surpassing that of past tournaments.

Within the organization, the Elders were confident, and the Protégés were fervently discussing the upcoming contest.

"Can Roald secure a top-five spot?"

"Will Cedrick and Mariela outshine the other three Golden Protégés?"

"Who will be the dark horse of this edition of The Clash of Eight Orders?"

"Why isn't Celesse competing? She would have easily secured a top-three position!"

"What kind of lineups will the other seven organizations field?"

"Oh, how I wish I could participate in The Clash of Eight Orders, or at least witness it!"

The Elders allowed the Protégés to speculate, hoping that the organization's lively spirit would inspire Roald and the others who were about to compete.

The Commander personally met with Roald, Mariela, and the other competing Protégés, distributing ample quantities of Elixir Herbs and Magical Remedies to ensure that they could perform at their peak during the tournament and showcase the might of Cobalt Strike.

The entire organization was in high spirits, rallying behind Roald and his companions, all except for Alavin, who was forgotten.

Alavin didn't give up; he ignored the fervor above and, in the pitch-black, damp dungeons below, tirelessly practiced his Shadowbringer, enduring the most brutal transformation of his life.

The Chained Spirit repeatedly stirred the Shadowbringer within him, and time after time, Alavin felt the murderous aura of the Shadowlord. His tormented wails and pained moans echoed long in the dungeon, regardless of day or night. Even the Protégé guards felt uneasy, wondering what was happening below, yet they dared not descend, fearing the young man might lose his sanity.

Each session brought Alavin intense pain—the dark aura of the Shadowbringer seemed to tear his body apart, and the murderous intent of the Shadowlord realm threatened to devour his soul.

He endured agonies worse than death, screaming in heart-wrenching pain.