The main plot will continue in the next chapter. I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Let me know what you think about it and where I can improve. Thank You for reading my story!
Chris watched as the heir strode towards them. The bare-chested man walked like any heir should, back straight, one hand resting on his sword hilt as if he were assuming a sword stance. He could have made any girl’s neck turn in his direction and made their heart flutter. Not hers. Her heart fluttered for someone else. Someone next to her, no less regal than the heir himself, standing there, hand poised on his sword hilt, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. The man she suspected to be Linden’s bodyguard. Tim, was it? He could do with an earful. Holding a sword at her throat like that. When her eyes shifted back to the bodyguard, her mouth went dry. Sweat glistened along his abs. She gulped. Her knees wanted to buckle. She wanted… ‘Heavens above, what am I thinking?’ She wanted to get into good graces with the heir. Not canoodle with his bodyguard. She wouldn’t mind doing it, though. It could be warming. Gods, she had always prided herself on having great control over her thoughts.
Linden stopped laughing, gave her a lopsided glance, and struck. Chris brought her sword before it to intercept the attack. At the last second, Linden twisted his sword, and it landed on her wrist. She almost lost her grip on her sword. Still, she powered through the pain and kept her hold of it. Chris was just glad she hadn’t yelped in pain and had just winced. That would be beyond embarrassing. They exchanged dozens of blows, and with each blow, her anger spiked up a notch. Linden had thwacked her left and right—blows that would bruise. Yet, for the life of her, she couldn’t land a single hit. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t. Why should she be bruised and in pain, while the other man was grinning like a fool? She knew he wasn’t using vital technique or any form of Drogen. That would have left behind a residue that she would have undoubtedly seen, being a collector as she was. So, what was it he was doing? There had to be something. He can’t really see the future, can he? No, that w
Only when Chris was well away from Linden and the arena did the consequences of what she had done dawn on her. What was she thinking dunking him in the water? If Linden had taken what she had done as offence and not as a joke, she would be howling in pain for who knew how long. Perhaps forever. She must have been mad. Why did she always let the anger get the best of her? She had to learn to control it better. ‘What’s done is done,’ she told herself firmly. ‘There is no point in fretting over it.’ Aside from her horrible mistake with Linden that could have ended up with her head on a pike, her days went smoothly—with only one sour note. It was, of course, Rina. Chris asked herself a thousandth time why she was sharing a room with her. The woman had no decency at all. None. Two nights a week, sometimes three nights, the woman brought a man to spend the night with. The partners she brought were sometimes young, sometimes old. The woman changed her partners like men changed their cloth
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Edwin asked on their way to class. “You had to visit a healer three times this week. Please tell me what is happening with you, maybe I can help.” “I am fine,” Chris said. A wave of nausea struck her. The world must hate her. Why did it have to happen now when she had just told Edwin she was fine? If the man hadn’t caught her, she would probably be bleeding from her nose right now.“Chris, can you stand by yourself?” The man looked ready to princess-carry her if need be–that she would not allow.Chris pushed herself out of Edwin’s arms and jumped up and down to show she was perfectly fine, thank you very much. She was, and anyone who said otherwise be damned. “See, I am fine.”“You weren’t, just a second ago. I think it best to go see a healer.”Chris caressed Edwin’s hand. She did her best to make her voice as soothing as possible. What she was about to say Edwin wouldn’t like. “You needn't worry about what’s happening to me. You know how we were
Rina repeatedly tapped the table with her index finger. This was getting on her nerves. The man no older than her, who sat opposite her, inspected the inscription on the dagger she had carved, turning it round and round in his hands. Rina scoffed. As if he knew anything about the scripts. Scripting was The Most technical art of Drogen. “You have excellent calligraphy,” the man said.Rina snorted. “A fish that can’t swim is worthless.” “Point. Shall we test your handiwork? I hope they are as powerful as they are beautiful.”The scripter woman nodded. Finally! She would earn her keep and be rid of the man soon.The runes in the dagger glowed golden. The man flicked his wrist and the dagger cut through the air and struck the wall. There was little sound. Golden lines of runes flickered across the room. The dagger quivered for a second and dropped.Her pride swelled like a balloon. She had done a better job than she had believed. “To think the dagger activated the protection formation
Jimmy listened to the elder, who taught them the properties of various metals. “This is Firesteel, this is Watersteel, this is Bloodsteel…” The elder got out seven metals and introduced them to the class. These were the best conductor of said Law and amplified their effect. The elder produced another seven metals and explained about each of them; Firebane, Spiritbane and Earthbane and so on. These were poor conductors of corresponding Laws—almost an insulator. These metals either diminished or nullified the effect of the corresponding Law. Jimmy learned much in his Blacksmith class. The identities of unique metals, their source, their properties—and how and what to forge with them. How to make an object of power? It was a simple process, impossible as it was to believe. First, forge a required item, take a beast core, and after that reach out with spiritual sense to the item through the core and push the power of the core to the item—the spiritual sense was the medium to such tran
Eron, the last Collector, covered his ears as the earth heaved and shook as if in great agony. This explosion was too loud, even with the wards set on his ears. His wards explicitly filtered out loud sounds like explosions. He was an expert at sound-based blending. Of course, even wards couldn’t handle everything. Tapping and blending weren’t all-powerful art. The war this time was one of the worst. No one had seen it’s like for thousands of years. And the explosions that not even his wards could handle seemed to reflect the ferocity of this war. Of course, no one had fought against the dragons in known history. They were like gods to men, and in some ways, they were. But soon he would be the one to become a god. He crept forward, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible towards the frontline where the battle was most ferocious, and as he did so–he collected as much Drogen as he could, filling himself to the brim. With the amount of power he was holding right now, he could sunder a
Act 1: The Exiled Planet: Eronas Edwin work up to the dreaded sound that was a daily occurrence to him. His master was banging at the door like a raving animal. Edwin groaned, pulling the seats over his head, and used the pillow to cover his ears. It did not work. The banging continued, disturbing his precious sleep. Why must everyone in this Tribe be so infuriating? “Edwin, do you want me to break the door again? Your father won’t be happy. Wake up now—it’s already dawn.” Edwin could hear the door handle turning ominously. He knew his master, Armin, was ready to break through his door. Edwin made a growling sound in his throat. And today was supposed to be his birthday. ‘Father does not even remember, does he?’ Edwin threw the blanket—he was already sweating from the heat. “For heaven’s sake, Armin, at least let me put on my clothes.” “Is that how you address your master? You have one minute—anything more and I will break this door.” “OK! OK! Just don’t break the door.” Edwin