The Legendary Mage (Alavin) novel Chapter 147

The battlefield air grew tense as Alavin, battered and bruised, rose once more. His fighting spirit burned bright and unyielding. His eyes were bloodshot, and his aura was chillingly murderous.

Ziros and Nelsor quickly shook off their stupor, one tearing open his chest with an axe, the other pounding his shoulder with a fist. They used pain to stimulate their minds, forcibly regaining clarity.

After yesterday's events, all members of the Earthbound Spirits had inquired about Tarner's condition and discussed strategies, to be prepared for when they faced Alavin. And now, their preparation was put to the test!

"Is this what you've been relying on? Then you can bid farewell to this dueling ring!" Ziros and Nelsor shook their heads vigorously, gathering their energy and charging at Alavin without looking back.

Silent as ever, Alavin clenched his teeth against the pain, his murderous intent surging as he charged relentlessly forward.

His hair was wild, his strikes as swift as lightning!

All three warriors plunged into a frenzied state, advancing and retreating, striking and colliding, each movement accompanied by a fierce gust of wind.

Their combat differed from that of other Novice Mages, who relied heavily on ample magic for support, becoming powerless once their magic was exhausted. Instead, these three relied on the clash of raw strength, a dance of blood and sweat that was far more thrilling to watch.

The nobles in the stands rose to their feet, shouting and cheering in encouragement; such intense battles were rarely seen.

A true warrior's fight, full of vigor!

"Madmen! Is this a martial contest or a fight to the death?" Lylian covered her mouth, hardly daring to watch the brutal fight below.

"Today's battle will surely bring fame to Alavin." Many Protégés began to acknowledge him, mad he might be, but he possessed an unyielding spirit and a fierce vitality.

Just then, the fight took a sudden turn, and the Arena fell deathly silent.

On the dueling platform, a scene seemed to freeze in time. Alavin barely intercepted the giant axe that threatened to cleave his head in two. He strained against the force, leaning backward with his arms outstretched towards the sky, precariously clinging onto the powerful swing. The blade paused an eyelash distance away from his nose. Any lapse in his block or inch closer would have resulted in him being cleaved in half, but he held it!

Was it luck? Or was he certain of his ability?