The Legendary Mage novel Chapter 43

Alavin stood upon a stone bucket, observing Galos' combat style with keen interest.

With a thunderous explosion, Galos withstood Broden's mighty broadsword. At the same moment, lightning surged from his body, assaulting Broden with the ferocity of hundreds of silver needles, eliciting gasps from all around the arena.

Broden screamed in agony, and staggered back over a dozen paces. His body was marred with cuts and lacerations, tingling with numbness.

Seizing the moment, Galos launched a rapid succession of lightning punches, throwing Broden's offensive into disarray.

"Well fought!" The crowd in the arena roared with excitement, cheering wildly.

Alavin clenched his fist in silent admiration for Galos' prowess. Combat Magic was a tool, inert in itself, but versatile in the hands of a skilled wielder. The fluidity with which Galos executed 'Thundervein Valor' was a testament to his status as an Elite Protégé, a clear sign that the Grand Elder had invested heavily in his training.

However, just when victory seemed certain for Galos, Broden struck back from the brink of defeat. His broadsword miraculously landed a blow on Galos. The sight made many onlookers gasp, unsure of what had just happened.

Galos narrowly dodged, but not before the blade tore a crimson gash across his chest, not deadly but bleeding nonetheless. Galos was stunned; victory had seemed within his grasp, yet things didn't go as planned.

The stark red wound was a glaring contrast to his pale chest. Galos touched the wound with his finger, brought the blood to his lips, and tasted it with a cruel smile curling his lips.

"I yield!" Broden declared, sheathing his greatsword with a show of grace, acknowledging his inferiority to Galos.

"Yield? I'm not done yet. We've only just gotten to the blood," Galos' expression twisted as he lunged at Broden once more.

Broden frowned slightly but stood his ground, taking a deep breath and boldly meeting the attack with his heavy sword swinging.

"Broden's in trouble," Alavin muttered to himself.

"Hey, lad, what are you looking at?" A cold voice suddenly interrupted from behind.

Alavin turned to see several young Protégés climbing the steps towards him.

Upon hearing of the spectacle, these newcomers had hurried over, racing to the summit only to find Alavin perched atop the stone bucket, engrossed in the duel.

Ignoring them, Alavin continued to watch the thrilling contest on the dueling platform.

"You still watching?" The leader of the group shouted arrogantly.

These were Intermediate Protégés who had bullied Alavin in the past.

"Is it bothering you?" Alavin glanced at them dismissively.