The Legendary Mage (Alavin) novel Chapter 164

To the uninformed, it might’ve seemed Alavin and Cedrick harbored deep-seated hatred for one another, but for both, the greatest respect was to defeat the other.

Sword and blade struck, and both the iron blade and ancient sword were sent flying, not from the force of their attacks, but because both men's hand bones fractured simultaneously, blood flowing freely.

The Dawnedge Blade whistled through the air and flew off the mountaintop, embedding itself at the base of the mountain.

Mariela was the first to step forward, taking her stand beside the ancient blade, her brows furrowing as she gazed up at the mountaintop.

Cedrick's iron sword, controlled by an unseen force, tumbled through the air and returned to its place, hovering ominously above his head.

The throng of people scattered across the valleys fell into a silent, tense watch over the high mountain. Could it be time for a victor to be decided? Cedrick's sword was not one to be countered by mere flesh; to confront Cedrick was to face both the man and his iron blade. With Alavin deprived of the ancient sword, was he not at a disadvantage?

"Unless Alavin has some secret move up his sleeve, he is surely doomed," murmured Orland. His brow creased in focus. Alavin might have won against Orland’s two fellow apprentices with Shadowlord’s Wrath, but besting Cedrick was an entirely different challenge.

Alavin and Cedrick stood on opposite ends of the mountaintop, panting heavily. Wounds covered their bodies, and blood stained their forms. They resembled wild beasts. Their presence exuded a ferocious and untamed might.

"My soul is the sword's spirit; my body is the sword's form. I am the sword, and the sword is I; all of creation, my weapons of war," Cedrick uttered in a hoarse and deep voice reminiscent of a demonic whisper from the depths of hell. The fresh blood from his wounds and the crimson stains upon his skin began to rise mystically, merging into a thin mist of blood essence and surging towards the battle sword floating high above.

In an instant, an invisible aura enveloped the mountaintop. Broken rubble and particles of dust all lifted into the air, radiating a deadly intent as if transforming into a thousand blades.

The Commanders were all watching with knitted brows. This was no Combat Magic from Cobalt Strike; this was the Iron family's most potent secret technique.

How would Alavin respond? The decisive moment seemed imminent.

Alavin's ragged breath could feel the oppressive might of the sword energy engulfing the heavens. Far from retreating, his will to fight only grew stronger.