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They called me FIVE

**READ ME** THIS BOOK WILL BE UNDER REVISION. ******* My name? Lance Augustus Age? 15 Nickname? Five. Why they call me that? Because the mark tells us so. _________________________________ "Don't be stupid, steer out of trouble, and whatever happens, stay alive."  I really don't know why Dad always repeat those words to me everyday. I take heed of his words. Play by his rules, never dared to go against him except if it's extremely necessary. He's all that I need to get by. Our life was ordinary. Everything was perfectly fine, perfectly normal, just an everyday routine we get used to live. But then this guy calling himself 'The Seeker' came... And he start making a mess out of my life.  He said I have powers. - Who believe that crap? He said I have extraordinary abilities. - Cool! I want to be Superman. He said I was chosen. - Who? The god of newbie bullies? The mark of five imprinted deep into my skin proves that I am one of the TWELVE. - You sure it's not a tattoo? I firmly believe it's a tattoo. I never believe him. I drove him out. I did not listen. I wish I did. Maybe he could have help me. Maybe he could have save me from the trouble of falling right into their trap. I know nothing. Because of my stubbornness I lost everything. So now I'm all alone. But she stretch her hand to me. She gave me hope. She invited me to come. And I did. So our search began. For the remaining TEN. ___________________________________

phoenixhyperion · Urbain
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243 Chs

Demon came

LANCE

My heart pounding. I'm sure he blow my head off with his cannon. My ears is bleeding. Ringing, I can't hear anything. Just a spinning world and a high pitch blasting sound.

I felt his hold on my throat loosen. I cough. My voice broke into a desperate wheeze. When my eyes finally stabilize its vision, I saw it. The gangleader, his face mortified.

Between the two of us, I believe it's most likely me wearing that expression. I'm the good guy he's the bad guy trying to kill me. So if anyone is scared in this situation, it should be me.

But I don't know why he's trembling slightly. I keep a fair distance between us. My shoes crunching against the mushy ground. I look at his bulging arms. Saw the cannon rip off his right arm from his shoulder.

That explosion blast.... I cupped my face and cheeks. My head is still with me. Still intact. No trace of blood or explosive residue.

What's going on?