The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 360

The astonishing sight drew the attention of nearby mercenaries and Magi-Monsters, who were utterly baffled. What was going on?

Was it a man dragging the light, or was the light commanding the man?

Alavin, shrouded in lightning, with his head bowed and face flushed, chains hanging from his back, was unrecognizable, and behind him, the light seemed incredibly heavy, pulsating with terrifying energy.

Who was this? What was he dragging? What lay within that intense light?

All onlookers were marked with question marks, deeply shaken by the spectacle.

Alavin unleashed astonishing brute strength, bolstered by the Restoration Mantra and his Golden Blood, which continuously supplied him with abundant power. He wielded the Gigas Grasp, honed his Core, and wildly dragged eighteen royal statues. He forced himself to accelerate further, pushing his perseverance—honed over eight years—to its limits. Yet, each step forward was accompanied by excruciating pain, as if his very bones were being forcefully disassembled. Veins bulged across his body as he roared hysterically, like a maddened beast.

The sight was awe-inspiring!

Mighty raptors dove from the skies, eager to tear through the blinding light and see what lay within, but before they could get close, a sword's energy burst forth from the depths of the light, cleaving them in midair. They perished without a scream, souls extinguished, falling lifelessly to the ground. Other powerful beings tried to approach the light but from afar, they saw nothing, and those who came too close were obliterated.

Many mercenaries followed, curious to see who this mighty individual was and where he intended to drag this light.

Even the investigative team from the Blessed Citadel was alerted, hurrying to a high mountain to gaze into the distance.

"Elder, what is that within?" asked the Citadel Protégés, who thought themselves worldly, yet had never witnessed such a spectacle.

"Unfathomable," the three Elders shook their heads. Their Sunfire Lion growled nervously, as if wary of the aura inside.

"The Northlands' most mysterious forest lives up to its reputation with so many strange occurrences," the Citadel Protégés admitted, no longer underestimating the Northlands.

"Who is that person up ahead, moving mountains and filling rivers?" Another Protégé was astounded by the “monster” paving the way, whose wild aura was barely less than that of a wild beast, and was capable of dragging the light.

Enveloped in thunder and lightning, Alavin pulled at the chains, dragging the Kings, step by step, firm and steady. He cast aside all distractions, resisting the bone-shattering, flesh-tearing agony, coughing up blood and grinding his teeth, roaring like a beast. This was a test of strength, a challenge to his will and belief, and a conquest of the Kings to prove his worth.

To have these solemn and armored Kings formally accept him was no easy feat, but given the opportunity, Alavin harbored no complaints. NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

"One step ten thousand and one, one step ten thousand and two..."

Alavin counted each step in his heart, praying fervently that the distant Stormcast could endure. "Helna, sister, my kin, wait for me... wait for me to return..."

A few days passed, and the news of the Kings' Acceptance spread to every corner of the Cloudveil Woods, including Alavin's location. People were shocked and soon retreated, with few remaining concerned about the astonishing scene. In comparison, Stormcast's Kings' Acceptance and the Cobalt Strike rebellion were this year's most significant events in the Northlands.

"Well done, Alavin. It’s no wonder you could defeat our Citadel Protégés. Let's go to Stormcast!" The Blessed Citadel team decisively withdrew. They had come to the Northlands to investigate Atlantis and delve into deeper secrets. Since the secret was now revealed and lay within Stormcast, there was no need for them to linger in the Cloudveil Woods any longer.

"Lord Alavin! They've all left..." Godfred was drenched in sweat, his eyes glazed over. The news had reached them. Surely the entire Northlands were aware, and perhaps the might of the Eight Orders and Five Lords had already surrounded Stormcast. “Could we arrive there in time? By the time we get there, will any of the people in Stormcast still be alive?”

"Ah!"

A hoarse roar suddenly erupted from the thunder and lightning behind them, filled with restlessness and madness, sorrow and determination.

Alavin's eyes were bloodshot, dripping blood from his teeth, and he was advancing crazily. "Even if I must crawl, I will return! Godfred, clear the path... clear the path... ah..."

"Lord Alavin..." Godfred turned back, his eyes misty with tears. “Let it be, we…"

"Clear the path!" Alavin roared, his eyes wide with bloodshot veins and tears rolling down his face. “I must return, wait for me... everyone, wait for me...”

With gritted teeth, Godfred slapped himself twice, forcing clarity. They must return to Stormast! With a loud shout, he tore his outer garment and released his five great war spirits—eagle, crocodile,

bear, tiger, python—five mighty beasts, their presence overwhelming like a raging inferno. Their deafening roars shook the heavens and earth, and with Godfred's wild charge, they brutally collided with the mountain ahead.

A five-hundred-meter-tall peak was shattered, then trampled and scattered by the rampaging beasts, forcibly clearing a path.