The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

"Thank you for your guidance."

"No need for thanks." The quiet Protégé smiled and nodded, returning to his perusal of a tome on Combat Magic.

Alavin, with the scroll of Goliath Force tucked under his arm, wandered among the bookshelves once more.

Tomes on lightning-based Combat Magic were rare indeed, and after scouring the third level, he had managed to find only five. Among them was 'Thundervein Valor,' the very tome Galos was practicing. Alavin leaned against a shelf to study it, hoping to better understand his opponent, Galos.

Before long, someone came to the third level to remind Alavin, "Your time is nearly up."

Elite Protégés had the privilege of coming and going from the Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls as they pleased, unlike the common Protégés.

After leaving the sanctum with Goliath Force in hand, Alavin went to sign out with the Elder.

"Let's see what you've chosen," the Elder said, taking the scoll from Alavin. He meticulously checked each book before it was borrowed, ensuring no pages were missing. That way, if any were absent upon return, it was clear that the Protégé had tampered with it.

The Elder looked at Alavin in surprise. "Goliath Force? Are you certain you want this one?"

Alavin signed his name. "I am certain."

"I've warned you before, it's best to start with something more suitable for novices when you first delve into Combat Magic. Tier-4 Novice Combat Magic isn't necessarily weak; it's just more straightforward and easier to master. The power of Combat Magic isn't in its strength, but in how well it suits you.

"Also, remember that you can borrow each Combat Magic tome for three months. Are you sure you can master it in that time? And I must remind you, it's forbidden to copy any of the Combat Magic from the Sanctum of Mystical Scrolls in secret."

"Don't worry, Elder, I understand your concern."

The Elder was exasperated; why wouldn't the boy take advice? "The Goliath Force demands a robust physique, not just strength. The power it unleashes is immense, but so is the recoil. A weak constitution could very well shatter your channels of energy. Are you really sure about choosing Goliath Force?"

"I've made my choice."

With a sigh, the elder recorded Alavin's decision. He could only advise; if the young man was insistent, then so be it.

Alavin left with Goliath Force, a smile on his face, ready for a hearty training session. But just as he stepped into the forest, a whistle came from the shade of a tree along with a sly greeting, "Ho there, Alavin? Over here, it's me, no foe."

Alavin looked over and saw a rotund figure peeking out from behind a large tree, waving him over with a cheerful grin. "Come, come, I have a matter to discuss."

"Either you come here, or we have nothing to talk about," Alavin recognized the chubby guy, also an Elite Protégé. But this one was a typical case of connections over talent - average in ability but wealthy and resourceful, with access to Combat Magic and personal guidance from an elder. Thus, his strength was fairly respectable.

"Don't be so tense. How could I harm you?" The fat man, Balder Mollen, from the powerful Mollen family of the Northlands, checked to ensure they were alone before clearing his throat and stepping out. His family was known for their magical ore business. They owned vast mines in the mountains, and were both wealthy and influential.

However, in recent years, the Mollen family's interests seemed to have shifted; they were now as intrigued by people as they were by magical ores.

"You have business with me?" Alavin observed Balder's exaggerated size, inwardly impressed. The man was round in every aspect, from head to toe, with a bald pate, no beard, no eyebrows - a living embodiment of various-sized meatballs cobbled together.

They had crossed paths before, but only in passing; this was the first face-to-face meeting. He was not just fat; he was artfully so. To grow into such a shape was a feat in itself.

"I have good news," Balder said with a toothy grin. His features nearly vanished into his plump cheeks like a large bun.

Alavin didn't want to mock the man's size and tried to maintain a serious expression, but a small smile appeared regardless. "Do tell."

Balder stepped closer, his flesh rhythmically quivering. He whispered, "To show you my sincerity, I'll share a little secret. Galos was taken away by the Grand Elder yesterday afternoon for private tutelage, set to last a month."

Oh? Alavin's mind brightened. Taking Galos away at this time was surely in preparation for the Arena contest a month hence.

"Prepare yourself. Once Galos masters 'Thundervein Valor,' you'll be in danger. The destructive force of lightning-based techniques is unmatched, and to withstand him for even the duration of a candle stick will be difficult." In Balder's mind, the thought was clear. It was impossible.