Daniel Garcia
Stories
5
Chapters
1,778
Words
262.2 K
Comments
0
Reading
21 h, 50 m
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The first day of his tutelage under Celly came with a nice, good-weathered day to greet the two. It was a bit windy, causing the coat that the silver-haired young woman wore, that reached down to her knees, to sway in the passing breeze as she held onto her hat. “It’s a nice day today. Perfect for what we’ll be focusing on,” Celly said with a smile. “What’re we doing today?” He asked curiously. Celly looked back at him, “I was told you favor the winds, right?” “Yeah,” he…
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Celly smiled, “I can show you the path to reach that, but you have to be willing to walk it yourself.” “I am.” His answer seemed to satisfy the kind, young woman who held her reassuring smile to him before looking forward towards the wooden wall. As their conversation went on, he sat himself down on the chair across from the bed, looking at the woman. Being a young boy again, he had every excuse to stare without being labeled a “creepy” since nobody could pin such desires on a boy of his…
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Celly had a large case of her belongings that she brought with her, as this was going to be a lengthy endeavor, so the young woman would be staying at the Dragonheart residence. “Sorry again that you had to come all the way out here to a place like this,” Julius laughed, helping Celly with her case. Celly shook her head, taking off her wizard hat as she held a soft smile, “Please–I don’t mind. I’ve always heard of Yullim’s beautiful valley, anyway. It’s a pleasure to finally see it for…
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When he tried asking Irene about her homeland, the girl didn’t seem to remember anything. The fact that she was from such a mystical land made him more interested in her, though. Julius and Treyna tried asking her as well, but Irene simply didn’t seem to remember anything before being taken away by the traffickers. It was a much more widespread issue than he had initially though, mistakenly believing the actions of the traffickers were limited locally. …This world has its own share of corruption.…
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“Well, I can safely say I’ve melded you into a proper man now,” Veldalla said with a smile, resting her sword on her shoulder. “I’m still twelve years old, but thanks…” He said, catching his breath. “It’s up to you now to improve from here. I’ve helped you build your fundamentals, but you’ve got a long road ahead of you,” Veldalla gently knocked her fist against his chest, “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders–use it, kid.” He nodded, wiping the sweat from his…
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As they sat there against the wall, the sound of horse hooves trotting against the soil met their ears. Through the woods, the Milligarde soldiers returned, and it was clear they didn’t take any prisoners as their swords were slick with blood and their armor lightly scratched. He looked up, his eyes widening as he searched with his eyes for the girl, scrambling up to his feet. “Did you find her…?” He asked. The silver-armored guard with the bushy, pale-blue mustache looked down at him for a…
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After deflecting the blows with his stern expression, Julius began thrusting his sword as if using a rapier, stabbing Rubert multiple times, though none of the wounds seemed to go very deep. Pain didn’t seem like a concept that existed in the man with black and white eyes as he laughed, charging forward as he threw his blade into the air, spinning around and launching a kick against Julius’ abdomen. “Gh!” Julius blocked it, but was knocked back. “Father!” He yelled out. With little…
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The man had shaggy, jet-black hair with an unshaven stubble, dressed in a black cloak that sat over light leather armor and metal greaves. …Father? He thought. “Oh? I don’t remember inviting you here,” Rubert said, jumping back as he held his sword up with an unorthodox stance. Rubert’s stance was low to the ground, keeping his legs spread out as his upper body was leaned over with his elbows nearly touching the ground below, keeping his black-and-white eyes on the man. “I found you,…
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The silver hissed as it was slowly withdrawn from its leather scabbard, unsheathed fully before the ginger-haired man tossed the sword-holder to the side. “–“ As the man raised his sword, resting it on his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of a tattoo etched onto the back of the smiling man’s right hand: it was a sigil similar to that of the Mountain God emblem, but of a horned jester with four stars surrounding it. He didn’t recognize what the sigil belonged to, but the stars told him one thing:…
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Though it didn’t seem to be enough as an unorthodox maneuver came from the man; as he managed to leap out of reach from the spinning slash, he looked up to see the sword being flung towards him like a spear. What–? He threw his sword?! He thought. It felt like a dirty trick, but an effective one nonetheless. “Ghh!” Just as the tip scraped against his forehead, he invoked a blast of wind, knocking the blade back, but not before the man sprung towards him and threw his fist straight into his…
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