Michael Moore
Stories
3
Chapters
632
Words
516
Comments
0
Reading
2 m
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Kaid Montclair's childhood was far from a life of privilege. Born into a prestigious mage family, he was the younger brother of Celt, a promising student at the Magi Academy. While Celt was off pursuing his magical studies, Kaid faced the cold and distant attitudes of the family's servants. They saw him as a disappointment due to his small mana reservoir. Their eyes held contempt whenever he tried to participate in magical discussions, making him feel like an outsider in his own home. In the…
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Reia gazed out of the window of the Thorne room, her eyes narrowing as she witnessed the bursts of flames and the cascading blade of water in the city square. The chaos was spreading like wildfire, and she could feel the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders. "This is a problem..." she muttered, her voice a mix of concern and frustration. As she stood there, a sensation tugged at the edges of her consciousness, a feeling that someone or something was approaching. Reia sighed heavily, as…
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The battlefield crackled with tension, the air heavy with the aftermath of their previous clash. Sylas stood there, his breathing ragged, his flames having flickered into mere embers. His eyes burned with a fierce determination, and his grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles turned white. A primal growl rose from deep within him, a manifestation of his frustration and desperation. And then, without warning, his sword seemed to come alive, the blade twisting and contorting as if guided by a…
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In the flickering embers of memory, I find myself standing on the precipice of the past, a spectator of my own story. The flames dance with an ephemeral glow, casting shadows that seem to mimic the twists and turns of my journey. This is a fragment of my history, a time when life was defined by the clash of elements, by the meeting of two worlds that were never meant to intertwine. My father was a fire nymph, an elemental being born of the very essence of flames. Nymphs, as rare and unpredictable as…
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In the midst of the city's chaos, a cloaked figure soared through the air, consumed by ambition and anticipation. "This is the moment I've been waiting for," he mused to himself, his voice hidden beneath the confines of his hood. His goal was clear – to demonstrate his prowess with the magi tech and secure a position of power as a lieutenant within The Fest. "With this magi tech, I'll easily take out an S-rank mage and make my mark." His plotting came to a sudden pause as a sharp whistle broke…
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Cedric nodded slowly, his expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. "Ummm, okay." With a sudden determination, the noble who had knelt before Cedric raised his head, his eyes aflame with a mixture of desperation and resolve. "I'll tell you everything." Cedric's eyes remained fixed on the noble, his intrigue growing. He watched as the noble took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for what he was about to reveal. "We continued the Magi tech project!" the noble's voice resounded in the room, a…
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Cedric walked down the grand corridor of the palace, his steps somewhat mechanical as he navigated the path to the throne room. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, still trying to process the sudden revelations that had come his way. The encounter with Dizzy, the truth about Alenia, and the weight of his newfound responsibilities were all weighing heavily on his mind. As he replayed the recent events in his head, he was lost in a deep inner monologue, his thoughts echoing loudly within…
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Cedric's eyes fluttered open as he found himself sprawled on the ground, a gentle breeze rustling around him. Blinking in confusion, he attempted to sit up, only to freeze as a small figure fluttered above him. The figure was no taller than his hand, with delicate black hair and sparkling blue eyes that gazed at him with an odd mixture of familiarity and curiosity. It was a fairy, ethereal and enchanting, and it spoke in a voice that was both endearing and bewildering. "Papa?" Cedric's jaw dropped,…
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In the grand throne room, King Lucian stood alone, the weight of his responsibilities and the troubles of the kingdom pressing down on him. He looked down at the crown that rested on his wrist, a symbol of his authority and duty. Reia entered the room, her presence bringing a sense of calm and understanding. "Ever heavy is the crown that sits on the head," Reia remarked, her voice soft yet resonant with wisdom. The king scoffed softly, his eyes fixed on the crown. "That's why I wear it on my wrist.…
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In the grand throne room, the air was thick with tension and confusion as King Lucian's gleeful laughter echoed through the opulent space. His pink hair cascaded down his back as he sat regally on his throne, his face a picture of amusement. The nobleman, Fitman, spoke out in protest, his voice tinged with anger and frustration. "You can't be serious!" Fitman's voice reverberated through the hall. "Any one of us here has more claim to stand by your side four times over more than this boy!" King…
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