Daniel Garcia
Stories
5
Chapters
1,778
Words
262.2 K
Comments
0
Reading
21 h, 50 m
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He looked at the steel sword that was now half-dyed in fresh blood, only looking up once one of the doors in the hall was kicked open. “Marlo! What happ–” It was the man with the scarred, bald head. The words coming from his lips halted as he saw what had transpired in the corridor; the man’s complexion shifted into an angered red as he drew his blade from its sheath. “You little piece of shit! Do you know what you just did?! I’ll kill you!” The bald man roared out. All he could do was…
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“Hey…what’s your name?” He asked quietly. The girl was hugging her knees, leaning against the right wall, while he was chained up to the back. “…Irene…” He felt terrible. The fact was, she stood up for him despite herself being covered in bruises. Such a sight made him clench his fists, but he hardly felt like he could even justify being angry after such a cowardly act. “I’m Emilio…How long have you been here?” He asked weakly. “Two weeks…” “I see…” He replied…
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“…Stop…please…” The timid, trembling words came from the pale girl who was in the chamber with him. This caught the attention of the cruel man, but it hardly felt like a respite to him. Left drooling blood onto himself, he was bruised and battered by the time the lowly criminal walked away. The bald man set his sights on the girl, stomping towards her as she hid behind her arms out of instinctual fear. “Huh?! Got somethin’ to say?!” He could only watch as the man kicked his muddy boot…
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“Welcome home,” the smiling man told him, sounding out the words twistedly. Before he could react, he was grabbed from behind, yanked off of the horse’s back as he heard the heinous laughter of a man. “Nice catch, Rubert! This slippery little brat really gave us a chase!” His hair was held onto tightly by the callused hand of the abductor, who had a bald, scarred head, dressed in a black cloak that smelled of urine and booze. “Let go–!” He yelled out. Before he could yell further,…
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It was a situation like this that he thanked the gods for the elbow grease he put into studying magic as he was placed with a perfect environment: the rocky walls that made up the grimy prison were perfect for him to forge his own path out. As he placed his palm against the damp, rugged surface of the wall, the stone carved itself out into a path for the young boy as he held a surprised smile, looking at his hand as if in shock of what he was capable of. Nature magic really is amazing, isn’t it? He…
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As he walked around the town that smelled of freshly baked dough and manure at the same time, he stopped as something caught the corner of his way. In the alleyway to his left, he saw what looked to be a young girl, wrapped in a tattered cloth, hiding within it as she held out a rusty cup. A beggar. I guess some things are the same between worlds, huh? He thought. With the bulging sack of coins in his possession, he stood there for a moment before moving down the tucked-away, quiet alley, retrieving a…
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“Please! C’mon!” “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: the price is steel.” While moving through the bustling marker section of the town, he found a boy that looked to be around his age haggling down a stubborn merchant, who definitely wasn’t willing to budge on whatever it was that was being bargained. The boy was tall and lanky, with light-green hair kept in a messy ponytail. By his plain, beige tunic and matching breeches, he didn’t seem particularly well off, but he wasn’t…
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For some reason, it was almost more breathtaking than the sight of magic itself; the atmosphere that was boisterous, loud, and filled with laughter; stinking of booze and the smell of sweat and steel–he felt truly inside of a fantasy world at that moment. “Gh-“ He fell back after being bumped into by a passing person, not noticing them while he was awestruck. “Sorry ’bout that. Didn’t see you there.” The words came from the man who had knocked into him, who extended a hand down to him…
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Going on his way, he carried the heavy, blood-stained sack with him across the dirt road that sat in the luscious fields. Still, he didn’t mind the opportunity to finally walk the trail alone; the lively, verdant trees swayed in the gentle breeze along with the colorful flowers that occupied the sides of the dirt path. While marching down the road, he saw a few village kids playing by the trail, kicking rocks and playing with sticks. It was clear by how they were swinging their sticks that they were…
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I did it! He thought. It was much more anticlimactic than he had imagined; Veldalla didn’t even budge from the strike, but she did come to a full-stop. Well, can’t expect much from the body of an eleven-year-old, he thought with a sigh. The scarred, but beautiful, rowdy woman looked at him for a moment. In place of surprise, Veldalla’s expression instead turned to a fierce smile as she slapped the spot where she was hit, laughing out to the azure skies above. “Nicely done, kid!” Veldalla…
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