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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 · perkotaan
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243 Chs

new path

Chapter 59: New self and a new path.

Lucien Lazarus is bored. He's sick of playing Knight for the royalty. He's sick of fighting the borders to secure the minings of Mount Eshna. Goblins have taken a liking in the land. Rich in abundance and resources. Who would not like that? He sat in his usual spot in the mornings. Tea prepared by his loyal servant lay untouched in his lap. Teas are boring. Goblins are boring. His comrades are boring.

Lucien smirks at the two young men around his age sparring spears with each other. His eyes detect the sloppiness of swings. The careless footwork. The shabby movement that slows the speed of their spears.