Perpetual Motion – Part 3

A new piece. Tiny due to the fact that I was brainstorming most of the time but I hope I´ll start adding more chapters slowly as I´ve grown infatuated with this story. As always, trigger warning: this is an unedited piece.


“Good morning, Matheo,” Jill’s curly hair, tied in a ponytail, bounced from side to side as she merrily searched for the key to my locker, “I heard from a very reliable source that your rematch is today.”

“Wow, you sure are well informed but tell Alexander that this wasn´t a big secret or anything,” I inspected the blade of the sword, “everyone knows already.”

“Who said it was Alex?” Jill winked.

Sheathing my sword, I walked to the door, “I´m not sure myself. Minister Tatiana seemed so eager to watch us duke it out. I think she enjoys seeing me getting punched into submission.”


Every squire ran up to their respective floors, entering their classrooms. Their boots clicking against the floor, as the clanking of swords echoed across the building. I walked into the classroom but it was empty, except for one person who was sitting idly by, reading an old book. Alice slowly turned the pages, carefully caressing it´s texture. As I walked by her chair, she got up and walked towards me. Moving her hair from her face, Alice fixed her short golden strands, tucking them beneath her small cap.


Extending her left arm, Alice offered me her hand; the same way she did after she pounded my skull during our last confrontation, “I hope you don´t hate me because of what happened last time. Whoever wins, let the best mage win.”

“Sure,” I responded, ignoring her hand.

Taking off her gloves, her fair skin was as smooth as silk. Alice offered her hand once more. I shook it, “May the best magus win, alright.”


As Alice turned around, I noticed she wasn´t carrying her sword today.


“You must really think you´ll win if you didn´t bring your sword today.” I grabbed the hilt of my sword, “it´s common etiquette between mages to show some respect on the battlefield. A sword is a must or do you think you are better than your opponent?”

Alice slipped her hands into her brown leather gloves, “I´m not much of a swordswoman but when it comes to hand-to-hand combat: I have no doubt in my ability.”

“We´ll see about that,” I replied.



“Okay man, it´s all you. You can do this, Matheo. You can beat her.” Luther commented over and over, as he patted my back, “this is your day of reckoning.”


I stepped into the arena, as Minister Tatiana placed a small piece of paper on the ground. Muttering an enchantment, a seal burned on the paper, activating a larger seal that encircled the arena. A short magical barrier was erected around us.


I tossed my sword over the barrier, as Luther caught it.

“You´re not going to use it?” Luther asked.

“Alice won´t use a weapon and neither will I.” Fixing my collar, I scanned the arena.


Striking a pose, Alice readied herself.


“Ready, Squires? Begin!” Minister Tatiana shouted.


I ran towards Alice as my fists were blocked with a quick reaction of her arms, counterattacking with quick jabs. I evaded her attack and made some distance between Alice and me. Those jabs seemed normal but last time I learned what exactly they were: mana infused punches. One jab from those and Alice disrupted my mana flow and muscle control. That´s how she defeated me the last time we fought.

With a swift kick, I tossed Alice over to a side, yet she cartwheeled herself back to her feet. Not missing a beat, she ran towards me, pushing herself with an impressive force. There was no doubt that magic was involved. Her movements were graceful, as if she was dancing in front of a cheering crowd, as her dodges synchronized with her counterattacks – multiple knifehand strikes in quick succession; I blocked most but some hit me directly on the left side of my torso and on my right leg.

Perpetual Motion – Part 2

So, here´s part 2 of my current project. It´s been a while since I´ve written anything, I´m pretty rusty. I´ll be uploading more of this story throughout the week. As always, be warned, you are threading unto unedited territory.


“You should have seen Alice today, she was awesome,” Luther commented as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt´s collar, “I mean, no offence Matheo, but there´s something about her.”

“The girl´s talented and it helps if you´re a big nerd, as well.” Judith added, all the while sipping her drink.

Rolling my eyes, I faced Judith, “well, if you´re done kissing her boots, shall I enjoy my lunch?”

“Matheo, I think you´re taking this competition a bit too far,” Elize grabbed my shoulder and sat next to Judith, “it´s all fine and dandy but this seems more of a grudge.”

“I have no grudges against her, I just don´t like her.”

“She seems nice,” Luther kept on struggling try to eat a chicken leg with a fork and a knife.

“Everyone I know says that she´s a great person,” Elize said in a whispered tone, “look at her, her smile seems so… so… so genuine, you know what I mean?”

“No, I don´t.” I replied.

“I´ve talked to her a few times,” Judith continued, “and she´s a nice person. She´s got a great sense of humor, never speaks of her achievements, always looking out for everyone; Alice has even said, on multiple occasions, that she admires you but that you don´t seem to like her very much.”

That evening, I walked home with Luther and Alexander. The street was silent, as a few cars drove by, disappearing into the shadows of the overwhelming darkness. The sun was falling on the horizon as orange flames lit the clouds in a spectacular glow. The first start, the star of the north, shown brightly as the darkness enveloped the light.

The dusty, pot-holed streets were barely capable of accommodating any form of transportation. There was a bus that would circulate around the town, devoid of passengers, save for rainy or cold days. A few lampposts illuminated the way as they sometimes flickered on and off.

“Alexander, could you tell Matheo that that imaginary competition he´s having with Alice, is not good for his health?” Luther moved his hands out of his pocket, “it´s just so silly.”

Alexander stared at me, “this is still a thing?”

“I don´t want to talk about it,” I replied. Alexander was like a big brother to us. Being the only son in a long line of alchemists, he was expected to continue the family tradition. In short, he wasn´t a Mage like us but his heart was in the right place. “It´s like she intentionally mocks me.”

“How old are you?” Luther responded, all the while, looking bewildered at what I had said.

“Her sly smile as she tries to surpass me. It´s irritating!”

“Matheo, I didn´t want to say this but I do believe you hate her because she reminds you of yourself.” Alexander explained, “each time we find mirror images of ourselves, we reject them. I believe it´s natural, like having the positive ends of two magnets close to one another: they repel.”

I saw the bus stop a block away, with it´s like flickering.

“That´s dumb.” I parted ways and walked to the bus stop, staring at the night sky. Everything they just said, that couldn´t be true, right? I buried my head on my hands, trying to make sense of everything, trying to find something to shake-off that strange feeling that crept over me. The small metal bench was cold and uncomfortable, and the small tin roof above me, creaked with the passing wind.

That night, I fell into a deep sleep.

Perpetual Motion – Part 1

It´s been quite some time since I wrote anything, let alone, uploading anything to this blog. I´ll be more active these following days; uploading more of this story. As always, the warning: it´s unedited.


The streets where silent, as they had always been in the past five years. A few people walking by, too little for the remnants of a once grand metropolis. The grey skies, whose colors seeped into the very material of every concrete building and every street it shadowed, soon darkened. It was probably going to rain, as a harsh breeze lifted the dust from the road, and into the very same skies it fell from.

Buttoning my jacket, I sighed. The academy lay just over the horizon, standing tall, it was a symbol of hope: a hope that someday things would go back to the way they were a few years ago. It´s windows were barred and the front gate was a one-foot-thick steel barricade. It had signs of weathering in the shape of massive gashes, some only superficial, others went right through.

Standing before the gate, were two men, wearing a padded armored vest on top of their uniforms. A large red cross running across a white background with small silvery straps holding the vest together. They grabbed their muskets and aimed them at me. I looked around, and sighed again.


“This is sometimes just so inconvenient,” I slid my hands out of my jacket´s pockets. “What if I was in a hurry? I´d really hope to make this a more of an easier pro- “

“Stop with the bullshit and answer these questions: Who do we honor?” One of the guards interrupted me as he raised his voice.

“His Holiness, Augustus Reig: the unifier of our forgotten city.”

“How do we honor him?”

“By upholding the law our god has blessed us with.”

“Why do we honor these laws?”

“To prevent another Falling of the sky.”


He signaled the camera, as the gate slowly slid to a side. Lowering his musket, he stepped to a side, “you may proceed.”

“You´re an asshole, did you know that?” I kicked some dirty on his boots as I passed by.

“I´m just doing my job, Matheo.” He grinned his teeth at me.

“Then don´t take it so seriously…”


The outside was dull and dreary but the inside was a whole other story. Carved stone tiles on the floor, painted in a gun-blue hue, with beautiful wooden walls decorated with large red flags with a golden cross in the middle. As I made my way down the hall, I turned right into the armory. There Jill, a friend of mine, was starting her morning shift.


“Matheo, good morning! Came to get our sword?” She was always so energetic, moving her head from side to side as her curry brown hair bounced all-over the place. “I noticed it has a piece missing from it´s guard. Should I send a repair request?”

“Nah, it´s fine. This is the third time this happened, the first time was an awkward mistake.” I replied, opening my locker with a key she had given me.

Her eyes glimmered with excitement, “do tell.”

“The first time it happened, it slipped from my grasp and it fell all the way from the fifth floor. Everyone laughed so hard I was called Clumsy McFingers for a whole semester.”

She covered her mouth with both hands, hoping she wouldn´t burst out laughing, “and your recent misadventure?”

“Alice kicked my ass so hard, the sword hit the roof of the fourth floor and fell on the same spot.”

“Alice´s different… She´s real nice but still different in her own way.”

“That´s a funny way of saying that she´s a few cards short of a deck.”


As I walked out, I buttoned my jacket and sheathed my sword. My heels tapped on the surface of the stone floor, as I entered my classroom. I was late. Everyone stared at me and stared back at the Minister. He grabbed his attendance sheet, circled my name and motioned for me to find my desk. History, ah, the only place where I could feel alive.


After class, Minister John pointed out that this would be the last warning I´d get. I was not surprised but somehow he was. “You´ve been an exemplary student, what´s going on with you?” That´s the only thing he said. If I had an answer to this question, the I wouldn´t be feeling like crap every morning before coming to this place.


“Okay Squires, today we´ll see how much progress you´ve made with the technique. It´s a fairly simple technique, something you guys should be more than capable of doing on your own.” Minister Peter grabbed his sword, unsheathed it´s blade and buried it on the soft soil of the training ground. “Alice, you´re up. I have my hopes on you.”

“Yes, Minister Peter.” Alice walked in front of the class, unsheathed her sword and shouted, “Avibus Album.”

The blade of her sword briefly lit up and fired a beam of golden light from the tip of the blade. Striking the iron dummy before her.

As she fixed her small squire cap, moving the tassel to a side; she sheathed her sword, and returned to her place.

“Bravo, Ms. Crux, I was not disappointed. See Squires, that´s how you use the Avibus Album spell.” Minster Peter made a stabbing motion with his sword, “you imagine stabbing your enemy with a long sword. That sword is a materialization of your energy, your mana. Matheo, you´re up.”

Yes, right after miss perfection over there went first, I´m second in line. As I walked to the front of the classroom, I saw a slight grin protruding from her pink lips. It made me angry. I couldn´t let her shut me down like that.

I unsheathed my sword, raised it over my shoulders and swung it down into the floor, “Avibus Album!”

A crescent white beam collided with the dummy as Minister Peter smiled, all the while nodding in approval, “that was very creative, and a spot on strike, as well. You and miss Alice never disappoint.”

Nova Prima Donna – 01 – The Swan Princess


This is a mini-project so my brain doesn’t stop working… It’s about a girl chosen by the Universal System, which guards and controls the fourteen realms, to close the final gate and stop the destroyers of realms (a sort of a clean-up program that ran amok). It’ll be different from anything I’ve ever written because the main protagonist isn’t a delicate flower, she’s more like a dandelion… She’s versatile, she’s rough and tough, and above all – she won’t take no for an answer.


Mother would read these stories to me – stories about princesses living in beautiful kingdoms, constantly in trouble. They were damsels in distress who would need a prince to save their hearts, or princes who needed the help of a princess, even princesses who would become queens and never need saving. She’d brush my hair every night, I was probably five or six years old, and she’s take out this big book. Every other day, it was a different story: she’d ask for a summary, for what I understood from it and what it meant to me as a growing girl. Puberty was still a long way away, she was proud of what she had achieved.

Then, when I was ten years old, she passed away. She suffered a great deal, she cried every night. She wasn’t the hero I expected her to be but she was my mother, and that meant a lot. When she was buried, I placed the big book inside her coffin and we buried her with it. Maybe she would have fun reading it wherever she went. It was a dream, a lovely idea… Too bad that was all it was.

By the age of sixteen, I had forgotten all about those stories but Hollywood would attract me to them, once again. I was like a fly buzzing around a bright light. Revamping the old stories I cherished the most and shedding new light, I was overwhelmed, no, thrilled. It was a fun time, like being with my mother again.

Now, I’m here, sitting in my apartment’s window sill, hoping that something good might happen before I die of boredom. Life zoomed past me; it certainly wasn’t the life I was hoping for. Two four-hour-shift part-time jobs and a morning filled with class activities, not to mention the evenings spent with my textbooks and homework. It wasn’t an enjoyable time.




“Not this again…” I stared outside the window, hoping this was my chance to escape the lecture on human sexuality. “I already know what my sexuality is and how to preserve it, thank you very much.”

“Just sit by it, hold up.” Marie whispered. I wasn’t about to wait for her.

“No, I’m bailing on you today. This isn’t what I want to waste my morning on.” Placing what little I had in my arm-chair, inside by bag, I slowly and gently tiptoed outside the classroom while the teacher took out condoms.


The sky was blue, like an ocean with nothing but water and not a speck of land in sight. No clouds, no distractions, just blue… plain ol’ blue. I was stretched out on the grass, beneath a small tree; its branches constantly struggled with the incoming gusts of cold air. I couldn’t blame it, the wind was strong, the atmosphere was cold and the sun wasn’t doing its job properly today. As the cold wind blew, I struggled to find warmth. After giving up on the idea of being at peace here in the campus, I made my way home.

The concrete floor was dotted with green moss, it was raining every evening, and it didn’t seem to want to let up. It was that time again: the rainy season. Birds chirping, almost like calling their young ones back home, away from the incoming rain. I was hesitant to wander outside my home, if I got wet, I could get sick, and if I got sick, then I’d miss classes. I couldn’t miss any more classes… I’ll be kicked out if I did.

Tying my hair back, a pony-tail seemed like the most attractive work of art I could do with it, as I fell atop a pile of clothes. Why was the bed so soft? I didn’t need a man; I needed a big bed with a warm comforter and a hot cup of tea or coffee, whichever got here first.

The room shook when a heavy vehicle passed by; the street was just two apartments away. Looking outside my window, I saw it again: a bright light beneath a tiny tree. Was it a firefly? Do fireflies shine in a prism-like order? Do fireflies even exist here? I was overflowing with curiosity. I could still indulge in child-like wonder and awe; thought curiosity wasn’t a very good reason for me to wander off outside, especially in the middle of the night. Could I let that little bug, or whatever that was, slip from my fingers after I was so close to it?

Picking up some old, blue slippers from beneath my bed, I tucked in my dress and walked out of the apartment. Scared, yes, excited, yes, paranoid, you betcha’ but overall, I was curious. The night was cloudy, no stars in sight, not even the moon. Tomorrow was going to be the fabled harvest moon and the sky didn’t seem to want to let go. A light drizzle continued, nothing I couldn’t handle. My footsteps echoed in the night but I managed to check every direction before I made a move. Slowly walking over to the light source, I noticed something… It was a ring. A small ring but a ring, nonetheless. Strange, it was silvery, plane, with a small stone, probably zirconium. Not wanting my adrenaline to go to waste, I grabbed the ring and brought it back home, as I skipped over puddles and along muddy paths. Home is where the warmth is.




People were playing with a guitar outside the classroom. Again with those guys? How long will they keep at it? Nobody likes an acoustic lone-ranger… We’re into the lead guitarists or the lead singer, not the acoustic backup singer. Looking away, I tried paying attention to the chalkboard but I could barely understand anything. Math wasn’t my forte and neither was paying attention. Taking out the ring from my pocket, I kept on looking at it, examining every nook and cranny. It didn’t seem like the genuine thing a guy would give a girl or a girl would buy in an afternoon of reckless spending.  Plain silver, if it even was silver, with a stone, probably a fake, and an inscription that read: “Heed ye, lest ye fall in a deep sleep. Thou must awaken that which slumbers beneath thine eyes.” Such a poet, no wonder the ring was underneath some bushes, the guy must have been quite the loser. Besides, it read more like a threat that an ode to love. Yeah, he must have been a poor sucker.




The night was cold, once again, but the sky was wide awake. The stars glimmering under the darkness of the dark blue celestial ocean; the moon overpowering the shadows that formed in the streets – the blue moon was well outside its warm confines deep within the horizon. It was a lovely sight, a feeling of security and peace sunk in. As I held the ring in my right hand, warmth overwhelmed my palm. What was going on? I dropped the ring, it began to glow. Not a shadow peaked from the corners of my room; everything was illuminated by an unearthly brightness. Voices echoed through my head, they were calling me… they were saying my name… it was as if I was needed somewhere. As strange as it sounds, the feeling of being somewhere to help someone I hadn’t met before was nothing short of a déjà vu brought about by everyday activity. Something everyone has felt at the very least, once in their lifetime.

The light dissipated but everything was not normal. The room wasn’t my own; the bed was mine alright, just not in the room I had last seen it in. Had I gone mad? That must be it, being alone for so long must have finally gone to my head. For all I know, I might have snapped in the process and now I’m schizophrenic. Yes, that must be it.

There were two wooden doors carved with a beautiful golden engraving. They looked pretty expensive. Shaking in fear, I closed my hands and held the ring firmly in my grasp. Maybe, if I repeated over and over again that I wanted to go home, it would work again? Far-fetched but it was worth the short. I knelt on the floor and prayed and prayed and prayed, I had become religious in the blink of an eye. Welcome to the cult of the ring, population: me. It was pretty pathetic but that was all I had. Nothing happened. Strange, it should have worked… It always works in movies… and fairytales.


“Maybe I’m in some sort of dream, yeah, that must be it. And if I’m in a dream, exploring won’t hurt now would it?” I whispered to myself. It had become pretty common for me to talk to myself; that was desperation working its magic. You can’t be a single college girl without losing your mind first. “So, having said that… I can just waltz over to the door and explore, right? Yeah, I can.” Answering my own questions? Had I sunk that low?


My slippers were nowhere to be found, screw it, I could walk barefooted. The floor was made of, what seemed to be, marble tiles, perfectly square and joined with impeccable precision. There were flowers painted on the white tiles and swans on the black tiles. Almost like a chessboard. As I neared the window, I noticed that this was no normal room. I was in a tower, probably a few stories above ground. The place was surrounded by tiny houses and a far-off lake could be seen in the distance. Struggling to catch my breath, I calmed down for a bit.


“Come on, you can do it… It’s nothing out of this world. It’s just a dream, like flying or free-falling. Your mind has seen one too many animated movies and is giving you a hard time… shit, it might even be something in that tuna that is making me see things.” Taking a few steps to the door, I slowly grabbed its swan-shaped handle. It was probably made of gold, and if this was my dream, its most certainly made of gold. I was a girl with high standards in my creative processes.

There was a large hall outside the door, armors dotted the sides of the hallway, as well as large portraits of older men and women; probably people of importance. Slowly, walking down the hall, I heard a noise… No, it was music, an orchestrated piece I hadn’t heard before. The violin was very prominent but it was so different from anything I had seen before. Slowly walking towards the source of the music, the door opened. Its golden handles pushed away from my grip as a beautiful lady appeared before me. She bowed and grabbed my hand, slowly kissing it. I blushed, this had never happened before in my dream.


“My name is Odette; I am the princess of this kingdom. I am so sorry I dragged you to my realm without prior information. We need you, our kingdoms need you.” Her voice was soft, with a hint of uncertainty. She was unsure, I could sense that. “Sit down, please. Let me tell you the story of the thirteen kingdoms – protectors of the living realm. I am the keeper of the swan key, the princess of the swans.”

“Oh, my god… You’re the Swan Princess!” Holding my mouth with both hands, I was on the verge of screaming with excitement. “Holy fuck-” Quickly stopping in my tracks, I regained composure. “Shit, I almost lost it.” I whispered.

“There is a legend, of a day when the sky will turn red and the fourteen realms will fall into oblivion. There is unspeakable evil living beneath the floor your currently stand on.”

I observed intently as she managed to bring out a drawing. There was a dragon beneath a large tree whose branches were spread out into thirteen different directions. In the middle other branches was the fourteenth dimension: the realm of Eve. “I gather the dragon is the bad guy?”

“The dragon is the support for the fourteen realms.”

“So, if he moves, we disappear?”

“If he moves, he’ll tear everything into nothingness.”

“Why do you need me?”

“We need you to enslave the dragon, once more.”

“Why? I mean, how?” She scratched her head for a while, “What do you mean, once more?”

The XIIIth Immortal Magix Competition – 01 – Pawns for a King


A formal first piece to the Mage Wars series. Here we have our protagonist going against your typical wand-wielding wizard. Who is going to win? Find out on the next episode, piece, writing-thingy… okay, just read.


“Give me that!” A tall bearded man grabbed the card from the Saver’s hand. “Wow, would you look at that; Page of Wands. Now, who’s my opponent?”

I took a brief glance at my card: Queen of Cups. My opponent would have to be a queen of the remaining Minor Arcana. Who would it be? A Wizard? A Mage? A Sage? A Priest? I was so excited and at the same time, scared. If the field was not within my expectation, then my tactics would fail miserably and with that my life as well.

“Queen of Pentacles,” a young man called out.

My chest tightened, choking me; unable to answer I turned towards him. A black robe with a phoenix drawn within a triangular coat of warms covered in silvery leaves and a small white sphere within the phoenix’s left claw. A red scarf wrapped around his neck and a small wand in his right hand; I knew right then and there that he was a wizard.

He walked up to me, a greeting with a handshake. His grip was firm yet not too strong; that was expected of a proficient wand wielder. Witchcraft was quite the magical art that demanded from a pool of energy from the surrounding world: Mana.

“Can’t wait to face you in battle, sir.” His eyes gazed into mine. “I was told you were pretty good at what you do best.”

“And what is that?” I replied.

“Escaping death with sheer luck. That’s why they call you Lucky Number Seven.”

I looked away. Lucky Number Seven, a silly nickname a Necromancer or should I say, a now dead Necromancer pinned on me. He said I survived the sorting through sheer luck. Well, that may be so, but my luck has taken me further than the pit he now sleeps in.

“Pleased to meet you, my name is Leonardo and you?” I tightened my grip.

He quickly pulled way. “I’m Mathew, Mathew Gul, from the northernmost school of wizardry and witchcraft in the British Isles, southernmost part of Scotland.”


“No, you dunce… Never-mind, just prepare yourself. I’m going to wipe the floor with you.”


I couldn’t stop thinking about my battle. The only thing that would ease my mind was regular equipment maintenance and reading the newspaper. There was a strange article in the paper: ‘Science vs Magic, things are looking up for these brainiacs’.


Mages, Witches, The Church, Wiccans, and now: Scientists?

Yes, that’s the latest from the battlefield. A small group calling themselves Tabula Rasa,

have invested millions of dollars on scientific discoveries and improvements to win this war.

What, skeptical about the power of science? Well, take a look at the scores!

Their participant: Miriam Lewsky has won both matches in the past week.

Her mysterious powers put her on a par with any

Mana-absorbing, Prana-consuming, Chakra-emitting,

Chi-expulsing, supernatural power that these wars have to offer.

The bets are on! How many of you think that she will continue on to the finals?


Impressive, I thought to myself. Science had finally placed their cards on the table. Well, they aren’t too far away from what I do. Being a non-magic person, my only way to fight is to use these inventions as a means of defense and/or offense. Mr. Wizard will try and fight up close, that’s their main tactic. Their wands are reliable little buggers; made of a wood drenched in a blood-wine concoction, covered in leaves from a sacred tree and a core made from unicorn’s horn powder, or dragon’s whisker powder, etc. These small instruments could bring death faster than anything else in this competition. I could not lose to a Wizard.

Besides, he was no Gandalf… But, just in-case, I would need a plan B. I grabbed a large bow and several makeshift arrows; compressing it to a manageable size, I swung the bow over my shoulder, held by a piece of silver-chain and the arrows all placed together inside a cylindrical container at the left side of my waist. Arrows filled with liquid mana. Even if I was unable to use mana, I could still gather it in four manageable states: Solid, in the form of crystals; Liquid, within tubes, flasks, cylindrical tubes and other containers; Gas, within blisters, and Plasma, a superheated mana source within small spheres. These arrows had enough propulsion and power to force their way through a magical shield that had not been previously reinforced.


We walked side by side, his long rope gently touching the ground as his short footsteps tried to catch up to mine. Walking down Desperationem Via or, the path to despair; we headed towards the center of the battleground. It was a game of chance; the field would change according to the will of the Council. I had my fingers crossed for urban warfare, my forte.

In the middle of the field, the Saver stood with a small crystal box. The box glowed in a bright pink color, heralding the drawing phase of the battle. Here, we drew spheres; whosoever had a red, blue or yellow sphere, they had the opportunity to choose to go first, if a purple, orange or green sphere was drawn, then the contestant had the privilege of having a ‘wish’. What this meant was: you could count with a minimal backup we used to call the Scapegoat. Tiny little plushy spheres that would save your life if you were in dire need of being saved. Finally, the Minor Arcana cards we had drawn previously in the sorting contest would give a powerful ability boost: Pentacles – Improved Physical Performance, Wands – Improved Mana/Prana Absorption, Cups – Projection Magic and Swords – Servants.

Looking at my card, I knew this would come in handy if I ever found myself without a weapon. The effect was short-lived but it would help you out of any predicament.  Pulling out a golden sphere, Mathew quickly called for his flying broom. As it zoomed by, he caught it and hoped on; soaring as far away as he could. He had a tremendous advantage: speed.

Kissing the silver cross dangling from my neck, I closed my eyes. “Sister, gib mir kraft.”

The XIIIth Immortal Magix Competition – 00 – It Begins

This is a project depicting the various battles of our protagonist in his attempt to seek revenge on the man who killed his cousin. A competition that places the many magical arts within a city to battle it out – from alchemists to wizards and sages to chamans, there can only be one winner. Let the games begin!


Golden powder, falling from beneath a tower now leaning over the edge of the roof; my life had been spared. The dirt that now covered my back, as I lay on the floor, crackled with my slow shifts in weight. I needed to get out of here or I’d be crushed like a pancake. Pieces of roof falling on the ground, carefully evading the clay projectiles, the ground beneath me became unstable. Was the ground giving in? Sinkholes dot the landscape but to think that one would be beyond this stone floor was too far-fetched – even for my bad luck. Cracking; this isn’t good. The tower creaked; that can’t be good either.

Rolling on my side, the tower fell, shattering the roof that gave way to the sinking behemoth. The structure fell on the floor, as it sank and dropped into an abyss of darkness along with the Wizard that perished within those walls. The competitions had just begun. I nearly lost my life and this was just the first of many battles. Grabbing my Clarice – my trusty side-kick that happened to be a rifle – I patted myself for a small silver coin I had stolen a while ago. “I guess that’s one for me and zero for Mr. Wizard, don’t you think?” I whispered to the coin. “By the looks of things, you’re coming with me.”

The Mage Wars had just begun.

Nanowrimo: Day 25!


Okay, I am officially lagging behind… But I won’t lose! I’ve got three days to go! You can do it! 😀


She was kneeling on the floor; her body battered and bruised with scratches and gashes on her back. Joan tried getting on her feet, but her body had given out. Her clothes stained with red, soaked with sweat and tears. Her brother would never know what happened to her when the police find her. She thought she could take on a demon… she was wrong.


The three devils circled her, bound by scarlet strings, the demon was the puppeteer. Laughing at his pray he walked towards her, laughing loudly. Her blade lay on the floor, there wasn’t enough blood to create another one and her bones had become frail after a prolonged forceful regeneration of her weapon. If she even tried to make another sword, her bones might fail her, and a sudden anemic attack might be the end of her. The demon circled her; his pace became a short sprint. His extremities were covered in a black tar-like goo, and his face was dotted with screws; a horrifying sight.


She tried creating a blade, but all she could manage was a short knife before her left tibia broke. Falling to the floor, she was kicked by the demon. Joan tumbled a few feet from the spot, having broken three ribs. Holding on to her side, she could barely breathe. The devil dogs nibbled at her hands and feet, injuring her as she tried to free herself from their bites. The demon grabbed her by the hair, picking her up with no difficult. He sniffed it for a while, and sliced it with his long fingernails. Falling to the floors, she injured her wrist. Joan looked up at the sky and saw an image… it was a guy, he fell on top of his body; a man with a metallic bar stood behind him, panting and screaming, he had knocked him dead. Ioseph escaped her lips. Just as she was about to give up, a rain of arrows pierced the dogs.


“For the umpteenth time, my name is Francis.” He walked out of the shadows, bow raised at the sky. “This was a pretty stupid move on your part, but I can never be angry with you. You’re my sis and that means a lot to me.”

She forced a smile. Her face was bruised and scratched. “Ioseph? No… Kayleb?” She closed her eyes, trying to remember his name. “Alessandro?” A tear escaped her eye. “Francis… my brother.”

“Now, motherfucker… it’s just you and me. And I will make you regret ever setting foot in my town!” Francis pointed his arrow at the now frowning demon. A hint of madness? It was a demon; evil was his madness.


Prancing about, he ripped out the throat of one of the demons and clothed himself with its fur. Jumping atop another dog, he rode him for a while. The other dog lay on the ground, motionless, pierced by the vast majority of arrows he had fired at them. Demon? More like madman.


“Are you going to evade me or is this all you’ve got?” Francis fired a few arrows at him.

“A human telling me what to do? Pathetic, utterly and joyfully pathetic.” He replied. A full set of sharp teeth drawn from that trap he called a mouth. “I find pleasure in making you suffer… I don’t kill.”

“Joyfully pathetic? I see your stupidity knows no bounds.”

“Son of Adam… As naïve as ever.”

Francis fired a few warning shots. “Leave before I kill you.”

“Kill me.”

“I will.”

“Then shoot me.”

An arrow pierced the head of the dog beneath him; toppling with the creature. “That was only a warning.”


A large pool of tar slowly enveloped the ground beneath Francis. It was solid, unlike its natural counterpart, yet it felt as if it was alive. Hands started popping out, desperately trying to grab a hold of Francis’ body. He didn’t flinch; his eyes were set on the demon.


Aiming his bow, he fired. The arrow pierced the demon’s skull.


“That wasn’t enough to kill you but it will be enough to stop you.” He smiled as the tar seeping into the ground, once again. “It wasn’t made with my blood, that special little baby was made from holy water and a cloned saint’s blood. Eat that, you asshole.”


The demon opened its mouth and spewed hot lava with a large wave of flames. The flames took the shape of a buffalo stampede. Lowering his bow, Francis closed his eyes; ready to face his demise. As everything got hotter around him, a rain of snow plundered the battlefield. Large bone-like spears pierced every part of the demon’s body.


Francis’ mother walked up to him as his father carried Joan in his arms.