The Legendary Mage (Alavin) novel Chapter 393

In the heart of the deep forest.

Elder Connas faced the biting mountain breeze, standing atop the peak, gazing at the night-shrouded Stormcast. Eighteen statues stood tall and majestic, emanating a soft white glow that held back the darkness of the night. All but three of the statues facing the Lord’s Keep were oriented outward, like celestial guardians who gazed into the wilderness and oversaw the city's inhabitants below.

A bitter smile slowly appeared on his face as he shook his head in resignation. Alas, the gathering of champions had stirred the Northlands into a frenzy, causing chaos and upheaval. In the end, those who did not die fled, and it was Alavin who reaped the benefits.

The fate of the Grand Elder in Alavin's hands would not be pleasant. Knowing Alavin's temperament, even if the Grand Elder did not die, his life would be worse than death.

No one to blame, such was the will of fate!

"It's over. It's time for me to leave." Elder Connas sighed deeply, vanishing into the night-shrouded woods. He couldn't face returning to Cobalt Strike; the Organization would not spare anyone who had partaken in the rebellion. With Alavin, the 'Protégé,' as their backbone, Cobalt Strike would only grow more dominant. They would not hesitate to kill thousands of rebellious Protégés or even a dozen rebellious Elders.

It was better to leave early than to return and face disgrace. The other rebellious Protégés had probably already fled long ago.

The Botanic Haven Elder, left at the mountain's summit, slowly regained consciousness in the dead of night, mustering his weakened body to descend the high mountain.

The forest was now a gathering place for many Protégés and three Elders. They had all arrived days before to offer assistance but had yet to break free from the forest and were now crowded together within the woodland. Previously, the Archmage melee prevented any attempt to help, as it would have meant certain death, no help at all. Now, they dared not venture out. The eighteen statues stood silently in and around the city, seemingly peaceful, but who knew if an approach would be met with a fatal mistake?

"Carlys, would you go ahead and greet them?" Nikulas urged, eager yet fearful of the stone guardians.

"Carlys, you're familiar with Alavin; go and smooth things over and let us all in," the Elders also pleaded politely, concerned for the Commander's safety. The day's battle had been fierce, and they were uncertain whether the Commander was alive or dead.

"I know Alavin, but the statues don't know me," Carlys muttered.

"Send someone to call out from a distance, to let Alavin steady the statues and let them know that it's one of our own, to avoid any mishap," an Elder turned to nominate someone, but the Protégés collectively stepped back, turning their heads aside, each thinking, “Not me, I won't go. What if my shout is met not with welcome but with the statues lashing out? My fragile limbs would be instantly pulverized.”