The Legendary Mage novel Chapter 163

"Fall of Eternity, Infinite Swords!" Alavin, bracing against the savage aura of the blade, forcefully raised his ancient sword. The towering sword's energy surged to the heavens, boiling and tumultuous.

It was a spectacle of unparalleled brilliance, heart-stirringly magnificent.

The sword’s energy was unmatched, once again obliterating all traces of the blade’s aura, dispersing the dark tide, and even shaking the iron blade.

Yet Cedrick remained unaffected; his battle fervor was only intensifying. Amidst tumultuous combat, he grasped his iron blade, uniting man and weapon, and charged once again at Alavin. His speed and the ferocity of his blade grew with each moment, and his pitch-black eyes locked onto Alavin, his face expressionless. His relentless strikes were a blur of cold light, leaving no trace of his figure, just the blazing fury of his blade’s gleam.

Alavin was fearless, his fighting spirit was overflowing like a torrent, and his blood boiled within him. He swung his sword to cleave the air. The clang of metal and the shattering of forces echoed without ceasing.

Battle! Onward, without retreat, this was the combat he craved!

The mountaintop was crumbling as the sword's energy and blade's aura completely tore apart the summit. The light piercing the sky was blindingly intense, the dark energy cold and bone-chilling.

The fierce clashes and ruthless assaults not only made Alavin and Cedrick's fight clingingly mad but also had the onlookers' blood boiling, their cheers echoing everywhere.

This was the battle of The Clash of Eight Orders, the tournament of the strongest new generation of the Eight Orders of the Northlands.

Absolutely magnificent!

Not only did many Novice Mages sigh in their own inferiority, but even many Advanced Mages felt endless emotion. Truly, these were talents cultivated by the Eight Orders, too powerful indeed.

Spies from various nobels busily took notes; these Protégés were too strong, and they had to be closely watched in the future.

Jackar and Jevan furrowed their brows. Their attention was solemnly fixed on the mountaintop battlefield. They were prodigies nurtured by their respective Organizations and were undoubtedly strong. They were confident they could match this intensity, but watching the disheveled and ceaseless battle between Alavin and Cedrick, they felt they lacked something—a certain decisiveness and madness, a confidence and wildness, and a resilience born of living and breathing for the art of combat.