Daniel Garcia
Stories
5
Chapters
1,778
Words
262.2 K
Comments
0
Reading
21 h, 50 m
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Grabbing onto the handle of the flimsy, blue door, he turned it and opened, anxiously watching what laid behind it. Of course, the other side was unable to be seen before entering, but this time it was hidden behind a velvet veil of luxurious fabric. Huh? He thought. Melisande stood next to him, “This time, you better let me help you.” “That goes both ways,” he told her. Gathering a breath into his lungs as he felt a stream of exhaustion and soreness through his body, he pushed it down and…
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“I see now. That’s who you are–there’s no mistaking the heat of those flames,” Shammoth said mysteriously, “–You’re quite the handful, Dragonheart boy.” Those words brought Emilio back into focus as he stepped forward, “Wait, how do you–” “Until we meet again, Dragonheart. It may not be tomorrow or the next day, but that time will surely come. When it does, let’s chat,” Shammoth said with a mischievous grin. Before he could get an answer, Shammoth tipped the hat on his head…
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Shammoth’s eyes widened in surprise while his ever-present smile stretched, “It seems my little outing has led me to discover quite the special one. Curious…” Before another word could be exchanged, the draconic boy disappeared like a blur, bursting forward with new speed as Shammoth was forced to react. “That’s more like it. Come at me with everything you’ve got, if you truly plan to live!” Shammoth told him. panda nOvel.cO,m Shifting his right forearm into a greatsword that was…
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With pure intent to kill, Emilio focused a condensed conjuration of fire in front of his staff, unleashing it into a tight flamethrower that extended through the length of the corridor, roaring out towards the eccentric stranger. Shammoth laughed as the glow of the orange flames stretched through the halls, utilizing another contortion of his body as he held his arms out in front of him, causing them to morph into the shape of a shield of flesh before being further reinforced by protruded bone. “Come…
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He stood there, reflexively guarding the girl from whatever the malignant aura belonged to, holding his sword tightly between his fingertips that trembled and exuded sweat already. Then, he finally saw ‘it’–the source of the aura of such boundless darkness. Most surprising of all, it was a man; standing there in the hall with his hands slid into the pockets of his exuberant, all-black pants. He was lanky; noticeably tall with flowing, gray hair but a patchwork face as if he was held together by…
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“Err, you want me to teach you now…? We’re sorta in–” “If not now, then when else?!” Melisande interrupted him, “Besides, I can tell you’re tired! You’ve been pushing yourself too hard for my sake. And don’t try to lie to act tough! I can see your bruises and those bags under your eyes–so…let me help you!” Part of him wanted to argue with those words, but it was clearly the truth: he was exhausted. It was an uphill battle he was fighting alone, and he knew it. Even more so,…
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Moving with a tight hold on the girl’s hand, he had to walk carefully as his sense of balance was challenged by the fact he could see where he was going or watch his own step. Suddenly, something began rumbling; the ground vibrated beneath his boots as he glanced around, though it was a futile act. Something is coming…? He thought. “Emilio!…I hear something,” Melisande told him. “I know, but what is it?…” He replied. Though there was no real way to discern anything by appearance, and…
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It seemed to stretch on for quite some ways, curving around the enigmatic wall of quartz; the cloud-neighboring corridor. Emilio led the way, keeping his sword held in front of him. Despite what the faceless entity had told him about the safety of the tranquil space, he wasn’t going to fully invest his trust in those words. “How are you feeling now?” Melisande asked from behind. He glanced back, “…Ah, well, pretty sure. But otherwise, I’m fine.” There were still bruises left on his body…
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“…Vandread…” Victor said with tears in his eyes. The sight of his friend was something heart-wrenching; the dark-skinned adventurer’s entire stomach had been torn open, causing a puddle of deep crimson to flood the stone tiles while his entrails were on display. Various tears were left on his flesh, from his face to his legs, from the claws of the undead. “…Vic…” Vandread could hardly speak, looking towards the ceiling with barely any light left in his platinum eyes. Julius shouted…
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Yanking the goblet from the bowl, he realized a skeletal hand resided in the bowl, extending from the bottom and gripping the jeweled cup before breaking away. What was that…? Victor questioned. “Oh? You found it? Great!” Julius said with a relieved smile. “Hold on…What was that?” Vandread cautiously questioned. “Huh? Don’t be so paranoid, it’s–” Julius replied. Though Vandread’s instincts were vindicated the moment the chalice was freed from the skeletal grip, the robed…
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