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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

What world?

LANCE

What I couldn't process about this...is his height. He's a bird. A real life fire burning twisted ugly copycat version of Phoenix. He had his nose pecking in the wrong direction. The majestic fire and grace of phoenixes I see in movies was smash by him.

He had no grace. Probably because his big figure won't fit into the room. He outdone himself. He spread his wings.

Setting everything else on fire. The cabinets, the beds, the chairs, the peeling wallpapers. He's ultra gigantic size is blocking the door. I can't escape. His neck is crane in the ceiling. His pudgy chest, curvy chicken thighs and flurry belly is swinging from left to right as he struggles.

"Baaaad!!!!" He shriek. "Transforming in closed space is bad!" He scrape his talons on the ceiling and it's already on fire. I frantically look around. After he appeared out of nowhere before us I don't get why he's doing an odd pathetic job of attacking and transforming to a size too big for a room.