The Legendary Mage (Alavin) novel Chapter 289

"Alavin, long time no see." Marak let out a laugh, but his smile and complexion were cold. He could never forget the humiliation at the Springs of Serenity, nor could he forget the beating he received from Alavin. He had also been sternly reprimanded by his father and confined for two months. Seeing Alavin again today reignited the murderous intent in his heart.

Alavin looked at him for a moment, then let out a faint laugh. "Ah, Lord Marak, still among the living?"

"Don't get so cocky! You're standing before someone from the Capital’s Blessed Citadel!" Marak lifted his chin slightly.

Alavin glanced coldly at him for a moment before bowing in greeting to the Blessed Citadel party. "Lord of Stormcast, Alavin, welcomes you all."

"Alavin, Shadowlord's Messenger," a youth revealed his striking face as he pushed back his cloak, his thin lips curling into a hint of a smile. "A pleasure indeed."

"I've heard about your splendid fight at The Clash of Eight Orders. People in the Capital are talking about you."

"You flatter me. The Clash of Eight Orders was a thrill from start to finish."

"You're now an Advanced Mage?" The Citadel Protégés could sense Alavin's aura.

Alavin nodded without further explanation.

"We are headed to Watchful Shore to investigate Atlantis. We hope to rest at your estate on our way. Would that be alright?"

"An honor for Stormcast, please!" Alavin gestured welcomingly.

"We appreciate your hospitality." The Blessed Citadel party, riding majestic lions, crossed the drawbridge into the ancient city.

Marak gave Alavin a meaningful, cold smirk as he passed by with his head held high.

"Lord Alavin, I have a bad feeling about this. Ill-intentioned visitors, I fear," Godfred warned in a low voice.

"Keep an eye on our people. Without my command, no one moves," Alavin instructed as he followed the party into the city.

The bustling streets were lively with people who had just finished breakfast and were taking their tools to various parts of the city for construction, a primary task of the town. The sight of such a procession entering the city caused surprise among the citizens, who stopped and curiously gazed at them, whispering to each other.

Unperturbed, Alavin calmly replied, "That was many years ago. My parents passed away, and the city suffered. We've barely redeemed our lives and wish to avoid further danger."

"If I may be so bold, Lord Alavin, what stroke of fate allowed you to rise from servant to a name that resounds throughout the Northlands?" The youth seemed amiable with his smile, but his words were far from polite.

"A personal secret, not to be shared."

But the youth persisted, "The Clash of Eight Orders' top five are said to represent the strongest new talents of the Northlands. I wonder if we might have the pleasure of learning from you, Lord Alavin?"

At these words, the young men and women of the party looked up at Alavin, their eyes gleaming with interest. They were Citadel Protégés, the strongest of the Royal Realm's new generation. Rarely did the heir of any power pique their interest, but The Clash of Eight Orders was an exception.

Even though Midlands looked down upon the four domains, it had to admit that among them, the Northlands were the most chaotic and strongest. The Royal Realm established five great Lords in the Northlands, none of which managed to suppress the rising tide of the Eight Orders. On the contrary, they often faced setbacks. Over the years, while other realms had their strongest forces and overlords, only the Northlands saw the Eight Orders and Five Lords competing for power.

The rise of the Northlands had caught the attention of many powerhouses in the Blessed Citadel, who kept a close watch year-round.