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🇵🇭ardevjool_
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
The story starts 300 years after the start of the Age of Magic within the continent in the south, called Contala. The last place where human and the others are still coexisting. A certain tragedy shall give birth to the conflicts within the land and its possible descent to chaos. The story unfolds the life of those who tries to go against the madness within. -------------------------------------------------------- This book is part of my fantasy series called Alchemy of Magic. This is the first book.
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Chapter 1 - Chapter One: A Gloomy Noon

A weak shower mantled at Wyrie during the afternoon—atmosphere was gloomy yet filled with noise. Located between the great river Constant Flow, and the small Clover Woods that lies south of Mount Pike. Inside a tavern, buzzing sound of locals reverberated through the muddy streets; children gaily playing with one another just outisde. "As usual. . ." the voice spoke in a sense of successful expectation. "the gud old tavern's yet again filled with squabbling foreign cunts hahahaha." "You and your vulgar mouth" replied by a man smiling. "I've heard a red haired man's been wastin' a lot of him money since the hour of the moon yesterday." "Red haired?! A noble?!" The drunken old man replied in a quiet bewilderment. "Why do people always assumed one's physical image dictates their status and identity?" He took a drink from his half emptied cup and paused for a second or two and began to sighed softly. The old man laugh at his question and then asked his companion, "Eyes are used not only for seeing but also for imagining" he replied with a visible stern gaze. "How in the fuck that's related to m' question?!" he shouted laughing. "Don't you agree, that being able to see, means being able to imagine a possibility?" With enigma the old man replied, looking almost sober. The man's eyes slowly lit up with curiosity in which drove him to entertain the almost sober—old man's question. The latter then noticed his demeanor of compliance and listen attentively to what he was about to say. "Yeah, I suppose that is true indeed" he shaked his head softly. "But then again, old Oarka, we cannot just take assumption as truth." "Ye thin' so? how about those north land twats?!", Oarka's voiced raised loudly. "Their life can be seen from them stupid faces. Hahahahaha!" The old man laugh his heart out and his companion accompanied his laughter with a bright smile.

Their laughing faded as a tall man with hair kissed by crimson entered the tavern who proceeded to sit down. "Hey, that's him" pointpuntds at the red man. "Aye, I have m' eyes ya see? Hahahahaha." "He's a curious one." "Oh come on, Dewn don't start talkin' with strangers cuz of your lack of friends hahaha" mockingly replied by Oarkan. "How 'bout you help yerself be fond of travelers." "And why would I? Those shits only care for them selfs his face wore an intense look.

The two drunkard's chattering continued; the atmosphere then shift to a young boy working in the tavern endeavoured near the red man asking him for what drink he might like. The mysterious crimson fellow looked at the boy—then answered, "A cup of warm cow's milk would be a delight"*the man spoke in a enigmatic tone wearing an almost unnoticeable smirk. The voice of the red man clearly made the little boy a nervous rack; wearing a respectful tone the boy then, with a shaking voice replied, "Only goat's milk tavern's have today, sir." "Well that's too bad, but I'll take twice of it." He then responded with a more radiant smile. The boy then went to get the gent's milk, his vanity looked more comfortably after. Walking out from the kitchen he gave the red man his cup filled with his wanted drink and then spoke, *"Hmm. . that was fast indeed hahahaha. " He drank from his first cup till it's almost empty. "Where ya from, Sir?" "That came out of nowhere", whispered the man softly after sigh. *"From the south lands of Grey Hills."* He responded unamused. The boy listened with obvious amazement looking more curious, "My brother was from a town in grey hills" he said with enthusiasm and excitement. "You should meet! I'll call for him." Boy's joy exploded and went in a swift at the tavern's kitchen. There he saw his brother who just took out a trash, *"You must be with me now!"* he smiled happily, then took a hold unto his hands and pulled him in a run. *"What's with you all of a sudden?!,* exclaimed his brother. As they ran at the tavern's counter the man had already finished his milk. The boy pointing at the red man with his finger, *"There is him—red man said he's from grey hills same as ya!"* *"Grey Hills? that's impossible, the town's long gone two years ago."* The red fellow then heard him and look at the young boy's brother (whose clearly older than him) with fascination and began to questioned him, *"Long gone huh? how can you tell?"* ll "I was there. . . When the town's been struck with a heavy downpour—filled with screaming rumbles from the sky and monsters of chaos!" his face covered with flickers of fear and his voice was driven with anger. "Well yes, the Ironail's been gone for good. I can't believe there were survivors." "I never thought I'll hear the town's name again" Sadness rang from his voice as both his companions listened with clear sympathy. The red man then spoke to cheer the boy's aura, "Now, now lad, let's stop talkin' about depressing past, aye?" he smiled softy and patted the boy's left shoulder with gentle care. The boy then smiled, one asked the red fellow a question that obviously intrigued the man's enthusiasm.

"So, if you're from south then you've seen magic?!" "Well, now we're talking" his eyes beamed with light as then said the word,"Yes, I did, quite a lot actually." "That must a wonder!" the younger smile joyfully. The red man then endeavour to ask a question as well. . . "Tell me, what do you think magic is?" "Some might say that it is the power to do extraordinary things." "Pretty boring description, isn't it?". "I might say that magic is a realized manifestation of visual imagination, but no, I will not say it." "Were you convinced when I said those words?, he smirked." "Then if you were, you are an idiot for being easily convinced." The red man then endeavour to laugh hysterically and continued his soliloquy and exclaimed—"Seven Gods!, of course magic is nothing like what it seems—to human perception at least."

In a confused tone, voice of the boy whispers back, *"Are you saying that magic is so different a thing for the Others."

"Why yes, of course! you might think that magic is a mystery that unites us beings of Contala. But it is actually an invisible line that separates us from others." The boy responded to the red man in a bewildered tone, "But magic still did incredible things; it help us communicate with the anima that brought peace at northern contala 60 years ago. Also the northern kingdom's barrier was created from magic that repelled the Invasion of Fairies 30 years ago."

"You sound cleverly naive," smiled the crimson man, looking at the two boys, his eyes burning with curiosity. "Let me ask you, lads; you said that magic did all this things, yes?" "And yet you implied that we—humans used magic. So. . ." he paused for a minute wearing a cold glare that pierced the comfort of both boys. His silence then fade and spoke in a tone so mysterious it drawn all attention of his companions, "Does man govern magic?, Or it's the other way around?"

"I don't quite understand, how can magic govern man?, It doesn't make sense at all."

"Oh, lad, of course it does. It is you who refuse to make sense of it at all."

"I'm starting to think he's just one crazy milk-addict guy, brother." The little boy said in a faint voice looking full of doubt at the man.

"Hahahahahaha!, you're one funny lad, I like ya already."

"Also, man only uses magic but it doesn't govern it, as I see it, of course. Magic cannot be govern by anything, we people on the other hand—" he spoke in a slow, hesitant tone and was interruped.

"Have never tasted freedom," the red man whispered unamused, "We're bound to serve others, be conquered and be governed by ourselves." He drank from his cup and sighed as he looked at it empty since he finished it a couple of minutes ago. He endeavour to look at both of them, "Here, (hands a pouch to the boy) take this."

Hesitant to take the pouch and questioned, "What is it?" "Something that might be of use to you in the future."

The boy's eyes gleamed with curious fascination as he examined the pouch given to him by the mysterious man, while his little companion showed an expression of confusion and incoherency; struggling to make sense of the mysterious man's words. The atmosphere then shift outside the tavern as the two drunkards: Dewn and Oarka left the tavern and walk near the village's fragile bell tower endeavouring to find Oarka's house, "Where the fuck is yer house old goat?!" his speech was impaired from all the alcohol. "Why so. . ." the old man didn't finished his speech—he seem having difficulty in walking straight. A man then suddenly came running from Clover Woods and dropped the logs he was embracing as he goes towards the village; he shouted a song at the bell man at the tower. "Thieves on horseback!!" the shout so loud it echoed through the edge of the town. The bell man heard the call and swiftly went up the wooden bell tower; creaking sound can be heard as he climb the wooden stairs. As he reached the top he spot at least 40 horses came running out of Clover Woods; with riders wearing black and brown clothes and raising their crescent shape blades. Without a second to lose, the bellman immediately rang the left bell; a signal of attack—he loudly struck it multiple times to make sure the warning reached the other side. When the horses was already insight of Oarka and Dewn their eyes and acts went sober in a rushed.

They ran shouting, their faces were in a visible state of panic. They back to the tavern, in hopes of shelter. "Dewn, to the tavern! Come on quickly you stump!" "I heard you, you old goat!"

While inside the tavern, the conversation of the three was suddenly interrupted by the piercing shout of the town's bell. The crimson man instructed the little boy to see what's the commotion. "Go on and find out the event! You stay here and wait for your little friend, I'll call for help." The red man rushed at back of the kitchen; to the backdoor—Oarka and Dewn was already laying in there with mud all over them.

As the little boy opened the tavern's door a terrifying sight met him—he saw the raiders ravaging their village, slaughtering men and children. The entire village was overwhelm with the cacophony of wailing women as the villains rape them inside their houses and murder their babies. Children, no older than himself was gruesomely being torn apart, their heads crushed with stones, even the elderly were mercilessly beheaded with their odd-looking blades. He then heard shouts of men from within; he's face showed a sense of familiarity to the voices inside. He called his brother in panic and rushed back inside only to find his brother with a man holding a knife to his throat, along with a wounded unconscious Dewn on ground and old man Oarka's head lying beside him.

"You lil ballsucka, tell m' whess d' fuckin' money or I'll slit open this lil shit's troat." His speech was enough to know that he's not from the native land. His voice was enough to scare the poor little child to make him pissed on his bottoms.

Scared as a pup, he spoke in a trembling stuttering voice, "I w-will t-tell b-but.. (breathes heavily) you must drop the b-blade first."

"Wat do ye take m' for? Som stupid little cunt lak ye?!"

"Don't you fuckin' talk to him like that stupid black blood!" He exclaimed struggling to release himself from the thieve's grasp.

"N-no of course n—" He was cut off when crimson man suddenly appeared at the villain's back; whom endeavoured to thrust a knife at him. The vile man was able to avoid the attempt, with him still holding the other boy on his right arm. "Wat diy fuck wus that?!", frustrated from the red man's pathetic attack. "Wat cha do with they knife ey? Cook m'life?" The vile man laughed pettily; provoking the red man. "Yeah sure, I'll cook you alive!" he exclaimed while rushing forward to make another attack with no regard for strategies or any sort. As he was about to stab the him, the villain drop his knife; swiftly drawn his crescent shaped blade from his back and cut the crimson man's head in a blink of an eye. His pale white skin, crimson red hair, and ethereal golden sunset eyes stared at the little boy when the head faced upward at him after it rolled beside his feet. The poor child's feet was petrified from shocked.

"Naw, les us get bock te busnass ey?!" Exclaimed him as his voice turned raspy. "Whess d'money?!" "I don't kno—"

As the little boy responded, he was cut off as a sword swung through the thieve's neck, beheading him from the back. The little boy was stupefied as the head of man fell off its body, while the other boy's face was covered with blood. A sudden loud sounds of trumpet then started enveloping the village.

"You okay, lads?" Asked solemnly by the man. "You did well to stall him kid."

The youngest one rushed to his friends side and spoke, "T-thank you... Sir."

"I'm no knight, I'm a soldier", smirk the man. "How about you, lad? you're covered in blood." asked the man in armour with a thick accent but still audibly coherent.

He looked at the man menacingly, "Do I look okay to you?! I'm covered in shit!!" he exclaimed loudly.

"You curse hard for a child. Well, it seems no problem at all, eh." He laughed as he pats the boy's head.

"You should've been careful, Haldan!! He could've killed you" he said in a tone of anger with damped eyes.

"We'll I know you won't let him" the boy replied laughingly. "I know you'll save me, Gryden" he chuckled slightly.

Thundering sound of men fighting outside the tavern then caught the attention of the two boys. "What's happening outside? I hear clashing steels!" asked Haldan.

"More importantly, where your parents, lads? I don't see 'em?" Curiously asked by the man intentionally misdirecting their attention. But the young one, Gryden doesn't seem to approve of the soldier's method. He shouted, "I've saw them bad men killing our friends!! Why are they being killed?! Why!? Even gud ol' Oarka!"

The devastated outcries of the child struck the soldiers heart as he look at him. Can't bear to see the tears flow from it's swollen lids he then hugged him with all his might, "Don't worry, it will be okay." Haldan's face filled with tears of empathy for his brother. He hastily embraced him tightly as he can.

The sounds of steels clashing then fade as if it never happened. "Sounds like battle's over, I hope the new lads survived" the soldier's tone expressed an obvious easiness. Gryden had calm down, he passed out from exhaustion. Haldan then answered the soldier's question earlier.

"We're orphans about a month ago, but now that we passed the age limit they kicked us out and sold us here. Well, to say the least, it's better here—in the Wyrie, than that pig shit orphanage."

Gryden then suddenly woke from his quick slumber of exhaustion, he looked at his brothers face with a teary eyes, "Don't leave me, Haldan. Don't fade on me." His voice sounded weak and frail. Haldan replied in assurance, "Don't worry, I'll never die on you." "Wait, how about Dewn?" asked Gryden faintly. "Oh, you mean the brown haired guy? I think he's unconscious—wounded but alive." "Oh seven graces! He's alive!" Haldan exclaimed, both of them looked at each other; their faces wearing transparent relief after hearing that their loyal customer were alive. "He got no right fingers and left eye but he'll be alright! Hahahaha." The soldier responded with laughter. "Say that earlier!" exclaimed Haldan. "Now I feel bad for thinking his fine" with sad eyes Gryden added.

The soldier then endeavour a glance at the two kids, observing them with sympathetic eyes.

"Well lads, what do ye say I treat you to supper with your little friend?" Asked the man his eyes looked sad.

"I'll never turn down free food!" He shouted enthusiastically while Gryden doesn't seem pleased, his face is filled blankness with one to none emotions at all—cheeks moist with tears and swollen sad eyes.

The soldier smiled vaguely as he took both of them out from the back door of the tavern. Both kids saw numerous Royal Soldiers wearing their silver armour and red and green cloaks that represents the royal family; House Rubyrald from the Sykrall Kingdom in the north. Their brave-looking aura made the eyes of young Gryden, who dreams to be a warrior someday— filled with awe.