The Legendary Mage (Alavin) novel Chapter 140

After the day's competition, the young nobles of Warriors' Vale left the city's administration abuzz with excitement, fervently discussing the day's events.

As the competitors took their leave, news about the day's Tournament quickly spread throughout the city.

That very night, the city's authorities hosted a grand feast in honor of the Eight Orders' Protégés. After all, the Clash of Eight Orders was a friendly competition. On stage, fierce battles were fought, but off stage, harmony was expected—at least on the surface.

All of the Organization Elders were present, ostensibly to mingle with the Protégés, but in truth, they were there to keep an eye on them, fearing any disorder. These young upstarts were all fired up, and the last thing needed was a brawl breaking out on this evening.

Alavin truly didn't want to attend but had no choice; the Organization had given a strict order. Unless a Protégé was severely injured in the arena, attendance was mandatory.

So, Alavin and Cedrick, two who were not fond of socializing, took their seats in a corner, helping themselves to food and sipping on fine ale. Mariela, a loner by nature and one who disliked bustling crowds, surprisingly joined their little circle.

The three of them sat without speaking. Alavin ate quietly, Cedrick drank leisurely, and occasionally they'd clink their tankards together.

Mariela sat behind them, eyes closed in meditation, a veil adorning her face.

"How shall we fight tomorrow?" Cedrick asked, throwing back a bowl of strong ale.

Alavin took a small sip, the spicy liquid burning his throat. "I'm pondering that."

"Planning to play rough?"

"That's the thought."

"How rough can you play?" Cedrick inquired further, taking another gulp of ale.

Alavin raised an eyebrow and looked towards the area where the Earthbound Spirits were gathered, silently strategizing. To prove himself, he knew he couldn't just play by the book; he had to fight fiercely and crazily, catching everyone off guard and revealing none of his tactics.

"Alavin, congratulations, you've passed the first round smoothly," a group of handsome young lads approached, greeting him proactively.

"Good to meet you," Alavin replied with a nod and a faint smile.

"How confident are you about tomorrow's competition?" They eyed Alavin with curiosity. A Stage VIII Protégé had defeated a Stage IX Protégé, an unprecedented event in the history of the Tournament, as no Stage VIII Protégé had ever participated before. He had won today, but what about tomorrow? Could there be more surprises?

"I intend to win," Alavin responded diplomatically.

"Who do you wish to challenge?"

"Being the lowest in the stage, I have no choice. I'll fight whoever steps up."

"I've heard someone's taken an interest in you."