The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 3

Alavin had long grown accustomed to the stares from the Protégés of Cobalt Strike Guild. Be they of pity or mockery, he accepted them with an air of tranquility. Having lived in their midst for eight years, Alavin remained an outsider, never truly blending in, and Cobalt Strike showed no desire to embrace him.

Weary and in pain, he dragged his body back to the Cobalt Strike’s storage shed.- Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

This shed, where he'd resided for all those years, was situated on a low hill near the main peak of the Guild's stronghold. It was a large space, once overseen by five custodians, but now only two remained.

One was the steadfast Alavin, and the other a despondent old man. They were the lowest ranking members of the Guild, having relied on each other for many years.

Upon returning to the shed, Alavin rubbed his face vigorously before the iron door, revealing a faint smile as he had always done. "Old man, I'm back."

Pushing open the iron door, he snapped his fingers as if nothing had happened.

The old man with his gray hair sat silently under the ancient tree in the distance, where a solitary grave was situated. He would sit there every day, quietly mourning the departed.

One was lonely and forlorn, the other stubborn and strong. Their vastly different natures somehow found harmony in this simple life they shared for many years, a curious matter indeed.

Humming a tune, Alavin changed into clean clothes in the shed. There was no frustration, no sense of defeat, no resentment. It wasn't so much that he had grown used to it, but rather that he was striving to remain optimistic, a resilience and persistence that had served him well for eight years.

Near the solitary grave, the old man sat still, as if he hadn’t noticed Alavin’s injuries. His focus was entirely on the grave and the magnolia flowers swaying beside it. His daily routine was simple: tidy up the shed, eat something, and then sit by the grave.

"I'll eat a bit later. I'm going to practice for a bit."

Alavin greeted the old man before settling on a stone bench, sitting in deep meditation. His breathing was steady as he absorbed the subtle life force of the world around him, nurturing his injured body.

He was not practicing Combat Magic, but a remarkable method of breathing called the Restoration Mantra!

Typically, mages sought to draw in the energy of the world, concentrating it into magic within their bodies, and wielding it through specific Combat Magic to display powerful fighting abilities. It was widely acknowledged that the energy of the world was just what magic appeared to be in its ‘wild state,’ and its 'primal state.'

But what Alavin now captured was not just energy, but a life force, the Restoration Aether!

This rare and astonishing method of breathing came from the old man.

Ever since Alavin had been imprisoned in Cobalt Strike as a common Protégé, and assigned to the shed as a servant, the old man had been there. It seemed no one knew of the old man's origins, nor did they care for such a wretched old fellow. The old man was cantankerous, and seldom spoke to Alavin, let alone anyone else. But on a rainy night five years prior, when Alavin had dragged himself back to the shed all bloodied and beaten, the old man had unexpectedly recited a mantra that Alavin had committed to memory.

"The essence of life is elusive, roaming between heaven and earth, without beginning or end.

"The Great Bear rides the breath and orchestrates the seasons. Heaven and earth intersect. All things transform, with beginning and end, cycling forever.

"Life springs from the seasons and is completed day and night.

"Trace its path, watch its course, and if you understand its comings and goings, you can then masterfully strategize it."

It took Alavin three years of exploration and study to finally understand and integrate this knowledge, using it with ease.

It was this remarkable method of breathing that allowed Alavin’s injuries to heal in the shortest time, enabling him to survive the oppression and exploitation of the Cobalt Strike with his stubborn resilience.

What were the origins of this mantra? The old man hadn’t said a word, and Alavin hadn't asked.

After a day of recuperation, Alavin's vitality and injuries had largely recovered, and the pain had almost vanished. The Restoration Mantra worked wonders.

As evening approached and the sky darkened, Alavin ceased his practice and cooked a meal, setting it on a simple wooden table outside. "Old man, it's time to eat."

They ate ordinary wild greens and similar dishes day by day, but today, Alavin managed to prepare them with a bit of variety, presenting four dishes.

The old man glanced over. Perhaps enticed by the appealing color and presentation or perhaps truly hungry after a day of fasting, he brushed the dust from his clothes and began to eat leisurely, without a word.

"Eat up. I'm going to practice a little more," Alavin said, hastily swallowing a few bites before returning to the stone bench to draw in more Restoration Aether. He needed to heal his injuries quickly, leaving no lingering weaknesses.

The old man sampled each dish. Finding the flavors to his liking, he pulled all four plates towards himself and continued his unhurried meal. Today, it seemed his appetite was particularly good.

"Master Alavin?" A pretty young woman knocked on the iron door and entered.

"Carlys," Alavin greeted her with a light laugh. "Haven't seen you in months, and you've grown even more beautiful."

"Months without seeing you, and you're in trouble again, causing worries. Celesse sent me to bring you some medicine." The young woman swayed the small bamboo basket in her hand and nodded to the old man, who ignored her as he continued with his meal. Unperturbed, she stepped briskly towards Alavin. Her steps were light as she said, "Let's see how deep your wounds are.”