The Legendary Mage (Alavin) novel Chapter 292

"Agreed."

"Deal," Eyla decided for Alavin, giving him a nudge with her shoulder. "Crush him! Show no mercy!"

The onlookers’ faces were souring, and a cold glint flashed in their gaze.

“Nothing but trouble,” Alavin thought helplessly.

"Lead the way!" The trio of white-haired elders had no interest in entering the Lord’s Keep. Their main purpose here was to see just how strong the Top 5 Protégés from The Clash of Eight Orders really were.

In days of yore, the pit was the most bustling spot in Stormcast, able to host thousands of spectators for combat. The grounds were vast, fashioned like a wild forest, providing a more authentic and thrilling stage for Magi-Monster duels. Though now in ruins, with many sections collapsed into rubble, the inner field remained mostly intact, overrun with weeds and trees. The ground was littered with stones, resembling a stretch of wilderness.

The Blessed Citadel party surveyed the area, and despite its dilapidation, found it possessed a raw, primal style well-suited for a display of martial prowess.

"What's the plan of attack?" Eyla was excited, glancing at Alavin and then at the Citadel Protégés, eager for the match to begin. The prospect was thrilling. The new generation of Northlanders were pitted against the elite of the Blessed Citadel. It was a shame everything was so rushed. They should have organized a grander venue with more factions as spectators.

The Citadel Protégés shared strange looks. “What's got this woman so worked up?”

Marak sneered. Eyla and Alavin were all so naive. The Inner Protégés of the Blessed Citadel were absolute elites, and those present were the cream of the inner circle.

"Who's first?" Alavin limbered up, ready to test his recent progress against the Citadel Protégés.

A handsome youth was about to speak when Alavin suddenly suggested, "How about I warm up with a friend of Lord Viperbane first?"

Marak's smile was cold. “Do you really want to take me on?”

"Fine! I agree. A little appetizer before the main course," Eyla taunted Marak.

“Appetizer? Don't underestimate us.” Marak snorted. The two guards by his side were not ordinary. They were warriors not afraid of death, handpicked by his father. Having grown up with him, they showed strong talents and battle-hardened loyalty. Now in their twenties, they were already Advanced Mages, one at Stage I and the other at Stage III, no less formidable than the elite Protégés trained by the Eight Orders.

"My lord, I shall go," said Romarn. The Stage I mage clenched his fists, and his cold glare were fixed on Alavin. “An appetizer? You insult me!”

Eyla, however, seemed thrilled. "Romarn, I know of him. Look, just look, he's transforming!"

"Transforming into what?"

"Roar!" Romarn bellowed. His voice was ferociously loud, shaking the trees and scattering stones. His muscles writhed, and his bones were cracked audibly. His body swelled like an inflating balloon, rapidly growing over three meters tall, and bursting through his clothes. His muscles exaggerated like boulders, veined with bulging sinews.

The entire arena was aghast. Even the Citadel Protégés had not anticipated such a savage display from Marak's quiet companion. Marak's smile broadened, pleased with the shocked atmosphere.

Romarn's presence ballooned, a wild rage coursing through him. His eyes were shining with a green ferocity, and his expression twisted and frenzied, a true beast incarnate.

"Is this Combat Magic or a bloodline ability?" Carlys gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

"Combat Magic!!" Eyla was ecstatic, having only heard of such things, and now witnessing it firsthand.

"Ferocious Demon Art!" Romarn, now like a wild beast king, was enveloped in dark energy, howling as he charged at Alavin. His fists swung with energy that roared through the air, each punch shining with a fierce blue light, like entwining lightning, brilliantly blinding.