"What's that noise?" Conrad, a man with golden hair, exclaimed in surprise. A disturbing vibration coursed through the ground beneath him, too strong to be ignored. "Could it be General Nefion?" he wondered aloud. With no time to spare, he slammed the door behind him and dashed out of the small room located at the mine shaft entrance. "Mr. Conrad, is something amiss?" a guard called out, visibly startled by Conrad's haste. "Nothing to worry about," Conrad replied over his shoulder, his words barely audible as he bolted away. Conrad was a military general responsible for overseeing the mine and all its personnel. More importantly, he was aware of the mysterious red lightning deep within the mine, a phenomenon that had already claimed several lives of those daring enough to approach it. "I have a bad feeling about this," he thought, navigating the mine with the agility of a squirrel. His fear confirmed when he arrived at the bottom to find the red lightning missing, bodies strewn ac
In an otherwise technologically advanced civilization, certain pockets remain somewhat untouched by progress. An excellent example is a small village nestled on the city's outskirts. In spite of the nation's technological prowess, the adults here appear to live in a bygone era. The village seldom experiences the hum of motor vehicles; the residents are content with their simple means of transportation: walking or cycling to their fields. Their lives harmonize with nature, creating a serene atmosphere that blankets the village. A modest market sits in the heart of the village, bustling with vendors who peddle goods bought from the city or sell their agricultural produce. "Vintage paintings for sale!" a man with a bushy mustache booms, his voice drawing villagers like a magnet. Thirsty for some entertainment, the villagers flock around the mustachioed man showcasing his artwork. "These paintings depict ancient kings, treasured artifacts that carry a hefty price tag," he announces, ea
His breaths came out in rapid gasps as he fled from the armed men chasing him. His chest heaved with the weight of his exhaustion, but he couldn't afford to slow down. "Hold your fire. We can't risk damaging the painting," commanded one man, seemingly the leader of the group. He felt a pang of relief. The painting wrapped in a white cloth that he was clutching became his shield. "Handy," he muttered. "Hand it over!" A voice demanded from behind him. He yelled back defiantly, "Not a chance!" His refusal seemed to rankle the soldiers, but their leader's order had tied their hands. They couldn't risk damaging the artwork. "We'll pay you for it," offered a soldier. "Do I look like a fool to you?" He spat, continuing his desperate dash. Suddenly, he tripped on a tree root, tumbling forward, the painting slipping from his grasp. "Open fire!" The command was issued instantly, followed by a burst of gunfire. The runner's body jerked as it was pierced by a hail of bullets, tearing his
Lucius, the young man, halted just shy of treading on a decaying corpse. Around him were bodies, their skin turned a sickly black and bloated from decay. Even maggots had started to make an appearance. "What kind of battle happened here?" Lucius mused aloud. Kneeling down, he studied one of the corpses closely. The face, frozen in an open-mouthed expression of horror, bore a small, blackened hole that looked suspiciously like a bullet wound. "Could they have been shot?" Lucius pondered. The sight before him was starkly different from the fallen soldiers of the Hedron kingdom he had seen in his previous life. With a dismissive "Thud," he kicked the corpse's head aside, looking for something underneath. "Nothing here," he grumbled, disappointment in his tone. His gaze flitted around the area, quickly spotting a few items of interest: a marble-like object, a card stuck in the ground, and an object resembling a painting. "These items... They could be what I've been looking for," Luci
Lucius stared in disbelief at the sight unfolding before him, a stark contrast to anything he'd ever seen. He had lived two lifetimes but had never come across a world as green and vibrant as this one. There was no pollution, none of the black, cloying factory smoke he was used to seeing every day. "Where am I?" He murmured, gazing at the unspoiled landscape stretching out before him. It was serene and beautiful, enticing him to become a part of it. He reached out to touch a leaf, dew still clinging to it, indicating the early morning hour. "This is real," he muttered, trying to reconcile this new world with his past experiences. A sound caught his attention, and he quickly ascended a nearby tree, settling on a branch to investigate its source. He spotted a young boy, around five years old, playfully pointing at a grasshopper jumping from one leaf to another. The child was accompanied by a woman, presumably his mother, holding an infant. Lucius watched as the small family interacte
City of splendor and power, homes of those closest to the king were notably grand, but one stood out among them all. This mansion, constructed from the finest wood, was adorned with natural stones and statues glistening with a golden sheen, an ostentatious display of wealth. "Why is the slave trader so tardy?" the owner, a man of considerable girth, grumbled. He tapped his belly impatiently, as if this action could hasten the arrival of his expected goods. "Sir, I have received word that your goods have entered the city," informed an older man, whispering to his superior as he held a note retrieved from a pigeon's leg. "Is a new trader arriving?" the fat man asked, his eyes gleaming with a childlike anticipation of a long-awaited toy. "Yes, sir." "Eland, prepare my money bag. We are heading straight to the sales location," he commanded. Eland, a weathered servant, nodded obediently and scurried off to fulfill the order. ** "This place is fascinating," Lucius mused. Having adjust
Lucius was immediately struck by the uncanny aura that enveloped the place. The atmosphere was electric and tense, almost as if the city's entire criminal underbelly had been herded into this one room. A distinctive woman appeared to approach Lucius, appearing to be in her eighties. "How may I assist you, wanderer?" She sported blackish-red hair and intriguing red pupils, which momentarily took Lucius aback. He hadn't considered that such a person could exist. "Bring me the tastiest dish this establishment has to offer," Lucius demanded, brandishing a bag brimming with golden coins, all ill-gotten gains from his exploits of robbing the well-off who had crossed his path. "Your wish is my command, traveler," the woman responded, grinning particularly widely at the sight of Lucius's displayed wealth. A murmur swept through the room as the patrons commented, "Seems we have a stray rich man's son in our midst." Their eyes bore into Lucius, ravenous and predatory, much like a beast would
The man with the scar over his eye had gone pale, his body soaked in a cold sweat. It was as if he desperately wished for this confrontation to be over. "What's the matter? Lost your words?" Lucius queried the man who had abruptly become silent and still. The fierce pretender now faced an unexpected adversary, far more terrifying than he could've imagined. "Isn't our matter settled, wanderer?" he managed to turn towards Lucius, attempting to force a smile onto his stern face. "Ah, but I believe our business is far from over," Lucius retorted, his nonchalance further infuriating the scarred man. "I've shown you respect, and yet you still wish to provoke me?" The man reached for the large, well-maintained sword strapped to his back. This threatening move triggered panic among the bar patrons, who immediately started fleeing the place, shouting, "The assassin of Wratis Land is picking a fight!" "You seem quite popular around here?" Lucius commented as he rose from his seat. He unlea