The Legendary Mage

Alavin had long grown accustomed to the stares from the Protégés of Cobalt Strike Guild. Be they of pity or mockery, he accepted them with an air of tranquility. Having lived in their midst for eight years, Alavin remained an outsider, never truly blending in, and Cobalt Strike showed no desire to embrace him.

Weary and in pain, he dragged his body back to the Cobalt Strike’s storage shed.-

This shed, where he'd resided for all those years, was situated on a low hill near the main peak of the Guild's stronghold. It was a large space, once overseen by five custodians, but now only two remained.

One was the steadfast Alavin, and the other a despondent old man. They were the lowest ranking members of the Guild, having relied on each other for many years.

Upon returning to the shed, Alavin rubbed his face vigorously before the iron door, revealing a faint smile as he had always done. "Old man, I'm back."

Pushing open the iron door, he snapped his fingers as if nothing had happened.

The old man with his gray hair sat silently under the ancient tree in the distance, where a solitary grave was situated. He would sit there every day, quietly mourning the departed.

One was lonely and forlorn, the other stubborn and strong. Their vastly different natures somehow found harmony in this simple life they shared for many years, a curious matter indeed.

Humming a tune, Alavin changed into clean clothes in the shed. There was no frustration, no sense of defeat, no resentment. It wasn't so much that he had grown used to it, but rather that he was striving to remain optimistic, a resilience and persistence that had served him well for eight years.

Alavin’s injuries. His focus was entirely on the grave and the magnolia flowers swaying beside it. His daily routine

eat a bit later. I'm going

a stone bench, sitting in deep meditation. His breathing was steady as he absorbed the subtle life

Magic, but a remarkable

it through specific Combat Magic to display powerful fighting abilities. It was widely acknowledged that the energy of the world was just what

not just energy, but a life force,

rare and astonishing method of breathing came from the old

nor did they care for such a wretched old fellow. The old man was cantankerous, and seldom spoke to Alavin, let alone anyone else. But on a rainy night five years prior, when Alavin had dragged himself back to the shed all bloodied and beaten, the old man had unexpectedly recited a mantra that Alavin had

essence of life is elusive, roaming between heaven and earth,

breath and orchestrates the seasons. Heaven and earth intersect. All

and

watch its course, and if you understand its comings

Alavin three years of exploration and study to finally understand and integrate this knowledge, using

this remarkable method of breathing that allowed Alavin’s injuries to heal in the shortest time, enabling him to survive the oppression and

origins of this mantra? The old man hadn’t said a word, and Alavin hadn't