The Legendary Mage

After downing six cups of fiery spirits, Alavin could no longer bear the brunt of the alcohol. His head throbbed and ached, and in a blurry haze, he slumped onto a pile of hay and soon fell asleep.

In his slumber, he seemed to travel back to his childhood, to the distant lands of Stormcast. He saw his mother, his father, his sister, and many familiar kinfolk. The lord's keep was filled with laughter and joy, a picture of bliss and happiness.

Alavin ran excitedly towards the familiar figures, but although they were right before him, they seemed not to see him. He shouted and waved frantically in front of each person, but his relatives were indifferent.

As if in a daze, everyone grew silent, looking up at the sky expressionlessly, their eyes hollow. Then rain began to fall, a cold drizzle that soaked everyone, chilling to the bone.

Suddenly...

The scene shattered like a broken mirror, scattering with a crash, and all the people dissolved in the cold rain.

The rain grew heavier, and darkness enveloped the land.

Gone was the ancient city, gone were his loved ones, and Alavin found himself standing alone on a vast, blood-soaked battlefield. Endless beings clashed in frenzied combat, their battle cries thunderous. Mysterious beasts roared amidst blood and fire.

A cataclysm of heaven-sent flames and gales engulfed the world.

The earth crumbled, and the sky collapsed as if the apocalypse had come. Amidst this chaos, a bright crimson streak slashed through the darkness, cleaving the inferno, shining like the sun. The crimson light pierced the battlefield, spreading a fearsome aura of death, causing all creatures to wail in fear.

if chasing that peerless, tyrannical streak of light. Suddenly, the light halted and locked

awake

was a dream! A

and sobered, he gasped for air, struggling to swallow. Why did he have such a

years since he'd last

a pounding head and went to the courtyard

tree, flipping a dark, sinister-looking dagger in his hand. It was forged from an unknown material; it looked

the black dagger, shook his head vigorously,

he called

old man paid him no heed, slowly lifting the black

watched, an inexplicable chill gripped his heart. He felt as though he had slipped back into his nightmare, overwhelmed by endless slaughter, and sensed that the

seemed to possess a strange sentience that was terrifying, yet in the hands of the old man, it was as obedient as a pet, nimbly flipping with

scraps as weapons in the courtyard. After practicing for

he faced Nysah, it was the surprise attack with the throwing knife that had

the knife, Shadowbringer," the old man said, opening his withered right hand. The black dagger hovered over his palm. Its tip pointed down, its body emanated a

Alavin felt his hair stand on end as he stepped back, astonished by