The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 1

"Why should I step down? The Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls selection is open to all common Protégés of the Cobalt Strike Guild, and that includes me!" Alavin stood defiantly on the raised platform, confronting the beautiful, haughty female Elder before him. But his resolve was met with her indifferent gaze and the scattered snickers from the crowd below.

"Save yourself the embarrassment and step aside," Elder Jaslin commanded coldly for the third time.

"I accept the first round of trials! Elder Jaslin, if you may?" Alavin didn't care about the stares from the crowd; he held his head high with pride.

"Foolish boy!" Elder Jaslin scoffed. Her hand rose as an overwhelming aura of energy enveloped Alavin. Like a hundred-pound boulder falling from the heavens, it crashed down upon him with a heavy thud.

Alavin grunted, bracing against the force, unmoving at the center of the platform. He glanced at the candle burner nearby; if he could withstand this for the duration it would take to burn half a candle stick, he would pass the first trial and then join the subsequent challenge to compete for one of the thirty coveted spots in the Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls.

Elder Jaslin’ face remained expressionless as she increased the pressure of her aura, layering it until it reached the force of three hundred pounds. Alavin clenched his teeth, resisting stubbornly, still not budging an inch. The sneers from below slowly turned into gasps of surprise. Was he actually withstanding it?

Elder Jaslin watched Alavin with detachment as her aura grew ever stronger, like a series of giant stones continuously pounding down on him.

Three hundred pounds? Four hundred? Five hundred? Six hundred...

Alavin stood firm and defiant under strain. His eyes locked on the Elder before him. But when the weight reached eight hundred pounds, his body began to tremble, his eyes reddened, and a crimson trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

"What is fate? This is your fate," Elder Jaslin said with disdain, ready to put an end to this farce.

Yet...

"My destiny is not for you to dictate." A brilliant flow of energy burst forth from within Alavin, sending dust swirling at his feet. His legs trembled, his body shook, and as the energy surged, arcs of lightning suddenly sparked across his body.

"Magic manifestations?" The crowd erupted in shock, hands covering their mouths in astonishment.

"Magic manifestations, and the tempering of spirit into might. Has he truly broken through the rank of Apprentice?"

"Was that lightning? His magic can manifest as lightning?"

"Well done, lad, you’re truly an exceptional talent!"

The Protégés in the distance were taken aback. Their eyes widened with disbelief. They watched the stubbornly enduring Alavin and shook their heads in sympathy. “What is all this for? You know full well you cannot pass this test, and you shouldn't have come here to bring shame upon yourself. This is fate, your fate.”

The young men and women in the crowd shook their heads secretly. Today's trial was open to all ordinary Protégés of the organization, competing for a place in the Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls. It was a treasure trove of the Cobalt Strike, filled with an abundance of Combat Magic, usually only accessible to Elite Protégés. But every half year, it was opened once to ordinary Protégés, offering them a rare opportunity. Thousands vied for entry.

It was such a precious chance, and everyone wanted to seize it. How could it possibly be handed to the son of a criminal?

Alavin was excellent, better than most. But what does it matter? He’s the son of a criminal. He was here to suffer, not to gain experience.

Elder Jaslin looked at Alavin. Her eyes were filled with pity but mostly coldness. "For the last time, do you give up?"

"Never! I can endure it for half a candle stick and pass the test! By passing the test, I can move on to the second stage." Alavin stubbornly withstood the crushing force she released. The bright lightning arced chaotically over his body. He glanced at the candle burner at the center of the arena; it was almost time.

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Elder Jaslin's raised right hand suddenly clenched, and a visible wave of force burst forth. A tremendous pressure, like a small mountain, crashed down upon Alavin.

"Ugh!" Blood sprayed from between Alavin's teeth as he fell heavily to the ground. His face flushed with exertion, and his inner energy tumbled chaotically.

"You have failed!" Elder Jaslin, from her elevated position, declared Alavin's fate.

"You..." Alavin lay on the ground, gasping for breath.

According to the rules of the trial, the presiding Elder was supposed to suppress the challenger with her aura, typically using about twenty percent of her strength, enough to test the challenger's potential and endurance. The challenger needed only to withstand the aura for the burn time of half a candle stick and display an exceptional performance to pass. But she had surely unleashed seventy to eighty percent of her aura just now.

“You, a Master Mage, are bullying a Novice Mage?”

The path of Combat Magic was divided into ranks: Novice Mage, Advanced Mage, Master Mage, Archmage, Supreme Archmage, Grand Archmage, Legendary Archmage, and many more. Before advancing to Novice Mage, one had to undergo a long process of tempering the spirit. Only after completing this tempering could one formally condense their energy and step into the rank of Novice Mage.

Each rank was as different as heaven and earth, with insurmountable gaps in between. For the children under fifteen, enduring the aura of a Master Mage for the burn time of half a candle stick was already the limit. Still, Elder Jaslin had forcefully attacked, clearly giving Alavin no chance.

"Accept your fate. You shouldn't covet what does not belong to you, nor should you come to a place where you don't belong. You've failed the first round; you will have no second chance. Leave, return to your storeroom, and resume your servitude," Elder Jaslin said, turning to walk away.