The Legendary Mage novel Chapter 295

Alavin unleashed a relentless assault. His fists and elbows were a tempest of violence, with straight punches, hooks, elbow strikes, wild swings, aerial back kicks, and spinning side kicks. He was like a berserker in the throes of rage, his flurry of attacks engulfing Romarn like a fierce storm, leaving no chance for retaliation. The clash of their combat resounded throughout the arena, sending shivers down the spines of those who heard it.

Alavin dominated the battlefield, mercilessly pummeling Romarn and utterly oppressing him.

Oda watched from the sidelines, scarcely able to believe that this ferocious warrior was her brother.

Eyla's eyes sparkled with excitement; she reveled in Alavin's savage grace on the battlefield. He seemed even more in his element than during the famed Clash of Eight Orders. His wildness was tempered with poise, and his silence was belied by his domineering presence. This was strength, this was confidence, and this was sheer disdain!

After hundreds of relentless rounds, Alavin drove Romarn from the center of the arena to its very edge. With a final blow, he shattered Romarn's energy shield, and his fist crashed into Romarn's forehead. Struck as if by lightning, Romarn's face contorted, his eyes were rolled back, and saliva sprayed from his mouth.

Romarn flew sideways, crashing into the arena's stone barricade, which fractured under the impact, spewing crimson blood.

Romarn hit the ground with a bounce, twitching slightly, unable to rise again. Such humiliation was unheard of! A brutal beating, through and through.

Romarn wished to continue the fight, but his towering three-meter frame suddenly deflated, his consciousness spun, and he slipped into unconsciousness. The ferocity of such a transformation was powerful but fleeting, and the aftermath would leave him comatose for several days and in agony for many more. Romarn would likely be bedridden for the following fortnight.

Silence fell over the crowd, who were stunned by Alavin's barrage of attacks. Such vigor, such a spectacle of combat, was both visually stunning and emotionally rousing for the onlookers.

The Citadel Protégés suddenly wondered, between Romarn and Alavin, who was the true beast? The lad had been silent throughout the fight, a stark contrast to the tempest of battle he had unleashed.

"Warm-up's done. Shall we begin?" Alavin breathed deeply, exhaling slowly. He cast a dismissive glance at Marak, his demeanor dripping with contempt. "You think to shame me? I'll leave you with nowhere to hide your disgrace!"

Marak clenched his fists, and his knuckles popped with rage, utterly loathing Alavin. Alavin was supposed to have just advanced to Advanced Mage status, so how could he possess such formidable combat prowess? And Marak could tell, Alavin hadn't even exerted his full strength, using at best only half his capabilities. In tormenting Romarn, Alavin was also indirectly taunting Marak. His actions were a slap to Marak's face.

"Lord Alavin is too strong!" the Mallister family's guards cheered excitedly. They had seen Alavin spar with Eyla before, but today's battle was of a completely different caliber. Eyla's attacks were cunning and elusive. Their sparring was more about strategy and skill, nothing like the unbridled ferocity on display now.

Carlys was thrilled. The spectacle was breathtaking! She knew Alavin was strong, but she hadn't anticipated this level of dominance. It was a veritable slaughter!

For over half a year, Alavin had been a miracle worker, rising from a servant to a renowned figure in the Northlands, but his impressive feats had always been outside of Cobalt Strike. Aside from a few like Roald, no one was certain just how powerful Alavin truly was. Today, they saw with their own eyes, and he surpassed all expectations.

"How about it?" The Citadel Protégés exchanged looks, sensing Alavin's formidable strength, which was indeed no empty reputation. Who would challenge him? Who was confident they could subdue him?

The once confident youths fell silent. It wasn't fear, but a comparison of their own strength to Alavin's. They represented the Blessed Citadel; they would not engage unless they could ensure victory.

"Who will face me first?" Alavin challenged openly.

First? How many more did he intend to fight? The faces of the Citadel Protégés darkened. The lad was being arrogant!