The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 48

If one craved a new spell of battle magic, ordinary Protégés had to demonstrate remarkable growth and innate talent to convince the Cobalt Order of their worthiness for cultivation. Otherwise, their hopes rested upon the biannual public selections.

Perched atop the soaring peak of Cobalt Mount, a thousand meters above the earth, the Arcanum was shrouded in mist, surrounded by ancient, lush trees, a tranquil and exquisite environment.

Alavin arrived at this serene place early the next morning.

The duel he had scheduled with Galos had become the talk of the settlement, not so much because of Alavin or Galos, but due to the involvement of Celesse, which added a layer of anticipation to the confrontation.

The fact that Celesse had secured Alavin's chance to enter Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls was also widely known. But no one believed that merely acquiring a new spell would enable Alavin to best Galos. The discussions revolved more around why Celesse took such a special interest in Alavin.

The guardian elder of the Arcanum, his hair as white as winter snow yet his spirit vibrant, nodded with a gentle smile. "You must be Alavin."

"Greetings, Elder."

"Sign in here, and once you've chosen your spell, sign out. You may ascend to the third level and remain for half a day, but you may select only one Combat Magic. A piece of advice, since this is your first true encounter with Combat Magic, choose a Tier-4 Novice spell. Get to know the craft. When the time comes, you may return for a Tier-3 or Tier-2 Novice spell. Do not overestimate your talents and reach for a Tier-1 spell right away; it could end up being counterproductive."

"I will heed your counsel," Alavin thanked the guardian elder.

"Enter now, and mind you, no brawling," the elder said with a nod and a smile.

Alavin stepped into Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls, where the first level was spacious, lined with exquisite shelves. Each spellbook was accompanied by a detailed explanation. The area was somewhat cool and quiet, with only a few Protégés making their selections or sitting in deep study.

Free access was reserved for those personally mentored by the Elders, but not all Elite Protégés were of exceptional talent or lineage. Some, like Tyral, were there due to influential connections. Others were offspring of wealthy merchants, sent with heavy purses in hopes of achieving greatness.

Though such individuals might’ve lacked innate ability, their solid connections and substantial resources, combined with dedicated instruction, usually ensured they would not fall too far behind.

On the second level, a larger group of Protégés, perhaps a dozen or so, carefully perused the spells or conversed in hushed tones.

Alavin did not linger on the first two floors, proceeding directly to the third, where Tier-2 Novice spells were kept. Given the rarity of the spells, these were already exceedingly precious, and even in a grand institution like the Cobalt Strike's Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls, there were no more than sixty, each housed in its own revered spot. Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

"Hm?" A Protégé raised an eyebrow at the sight of Alavin, curious about a new face was in this sacred space. Their surprise soon turned to recognition; this must’ve been Alavin, the servant whose name had been on everyone's lips the previous day.

While some continued to study the tomes, others curiously watched Alavin.

Oblivious to their stares, Alavin searched the shelves until he found what he was looking for – the Goliath Force!

With anticipation, he settled into a corner and began to pore over the pages. He wanted to see if the spell matched his expectations, and if not, he was prepared to select another.

The Goliath Force he had practiced in the past was self-taught. The initial stages were rudimentary compared to the true art.

Time passed, and the third floor stirred as a distinctive young man arrived. Lean, tall, with a sharply defined face that, while not handsome in the classical sense, was framed by untamed, long hair that gave him a rebellious aura. His narrow eyes exuded an inexplicable danger.

The youth scanned the third level and headed straight towards Alavin. The onlookers' interest was piqued; it seemed a spectacle was about to unfold.

Lost in the first segments of the Goliath Force tome, Alavin was utterly engrossed. He devoured the content, sometimes frowning in contemplation, sometimes nodding in realization. The detailed descriptions were an epiphany, correcting many of his crude mistakes, and he longed to practice the spell immediately.

"Are you Alavin?" The youth had to repeat thrice before finally drawing Alavin's attention away from the tome and to himself.

"Cedrick?" Alavin recognized the fierce young man in an instant.