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Heroes or Transcendents (2)

The story of the Holy Immortal Supreme King Markus Benedict Heven Jaup Magi Kaul Ruen First began in a somewhat modest. A couple of poor farmers were the ones who had the honor of giving birth to his majestic body.

The misfortune was that, at that time, it was impossible for them to understand the power of the supreme one they had begotten since he was born with a weak body and no talent. He was nothing more than a poor wretch who lived in the borderlands of the kingdom.

What a shameful fact. The being who was born to dominate was once a simple Ignoramus. One who did not care about his poor or uselessness. One who lived happily among the shit and filth.

It was not his fault. It was the fault of the stupid people who raised him. Idiots that, being their only son, gave him too much love and attention. He was the first of many others they planned, so his life, in their eyes, was simply an experiment.

They toyed with him, trying all sorts of things.

They taught him unnecessary garbage.

They chose by practice what they would teach their future children.

Waste of time. That was an enormous waste of time. He shouldn’t have gone through that. He had to learn other, more important things. But it wasn’t their fault. It was their parents’ fault.

If he had had grandparents to correct the thinking of his caregivers, he might have fared better. But no, they didn’t even have neighbors, as the nearest town was a two-hour walk away.

He lived on a farm abandoned by the world. Along with only two humans and surrounded by dozens of animals. In that place, he learned hunting, cooking, dancing, agriculture, cattle breeding, sewing, butchering, shoemaking, and even singing. Why? Why? Why in the hell did he have to learn to sing and dance?

Fortunately, it wasn’t all bad. As dumb as that pair was, they still made one good decision out of hundreds of bad ones. They taught him about magic. An unusual thing to do, rarer than teaching him singing, since it is not considered normal for children to learn such a thing.

It’s dangerous. It is, but in the eyes of his parents, it was not. They, believing in his maturity, which he acquired by living with a couple of children with adult bodies, taught him the basics.

Even the most perfect beings can make mistakes. He, in his damned blindness, did not see what was valuable in it. Despite his useless hands having such precious power, the asshole ignored it. He focused on learning other shit that would be of no use to him in the future.

If the son of a bitch had seen the possibilities that magic gave him. If the bastard had practiced as he should have. Maybe, just maybe, he might not have been so useless that day. Perhaps they would have trusted him.

The ways of heaven are perfect. Incomparable to any mortal being. His destiny was not to fight. His destiny was far from death. Thanks to his unparalleled intelligence, which allowed him to follow the light that guided his path, he could move away from that dirty life. He went beyond being a simple farmer covered in dirt and dung.

It was all thanks to what happened that day.


In the middle of a sunny day like any other, I was helping my mother make some ropes to hold the cattle that were disappearing at night. Although that would seem strange, it wasn’t, as we were used to wild beasts stealing them.

So, we had to keep them next to the house while my dad was in charge of looking for the animal’s tracks to decide whether or not it was necessary to go to the nearby town for help.

Anyway, just as my mom was making dinner, after hours of work, my dad came back.

His arrival was by no means silent as, after slamming the door with a loud bang that startled me, he briskly made his way to the kitchen after giving me a quick but meaningful glance with his pale, sweaty face.

I was so surprised to see him act like that, so I tried to follow him, but since the kitchen door was closed, I could only stick my ears to the wall trying to hear what they were saying.

Unfortunately, despite my attempts, I could not hear their secret conversation, but when I saw him leaving with several knives strapped to his belt and an axe in each hand, I understood that something really bad was going on.


He did. He trembled. He worried, but he didn’t think. His supposed maturity did not allow him to see things as he should have. As a result, he did stupid things that he now regrets.

The imbecile complained to his father in the middle of that emergency. The stupid one demanded an explanation even though he couldn’t solve anything with his weakness. The idiot yelled at him and got angry at the one who had cared for him for years. In the end, the brat got what he deserved.

His father struck and, with a look of sadness and fury, left him behind.

The child could only see from the ground the man’s back moving away little by little. A back, a face he could never see again.

Dazed, he stayed in the living room for hours. The sun was gone, and it seemed that it would soon return, but the person he was waiting for still did not appear.

He was a weak child, who, despite his worry, could not beat his hunger for no supper, so when he finally got up from where he was sitting in front of the door, he moved to the kitchen in search of something to eat. However, what he found there made him forget what he felt before.

Standing up, he looked at his mother, who, with red hands full of dirt and sweat, had pulled almost every crop out of the hole under the kitchen floor. The site where they were stored so that these would not spoil in the summer heat.

He looked at her and, out of affection, acted. Without thinking, without knowing why she did it. He helped her to finish her work.

His mother watched him work. He watched her stop. Neither one spoke. Neither said anything to the other. They only stood still for a few seconds before going back to work.

Time went by. It was not long before the sun rose. They both finished so that underneath them, only an empty hole remained. Then, for the first time, he spoke. He shouted to his mother the same thing he told his father. He wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to know where his father had gone. But he got nothing from his screams.

Then, when he got tired, they both cried. They cried until he fell asleep.

He did not sleep for long. When he woke up, he was inside the hole, with a bitter taste in his mouth. His mother had given him something to eat. He didn’t understand why he was there. He wanted to get out. He wanted to go back to her. So, using all the strength his young body could muster, he tried to lift the object obstructing his exit.

He did not make it. He could not, for he was dizzy and without strength. However, through a small crack that opened for a few moments, he, with blurry eyes, looked at his mother.

She was sitting where he had once been waiting for his father, with the sunlight illuminating her gaunt face as she held a knife pointed at her neck. From the crack, he could also hear a lot of footsteps and laughter coming from outside the door, right where she was looking.

He only looked at her briefly before exhaustion hit him, causing him to fall backward toward the bottom of the hole, covered again by darkness.


It’s a pity. If I hadn’t been drugged, my memories of that day wouldn’t be so hazy, allowing my trauma to be even more optimal.

Because of that, it is now difficult for me to discern between what was a dream and what was real. What remains in my head are only sounds. Sounds of laughter, blows, cries, moans, groans, laughter, screams, cries, and more screams.

No, I’m wrong. I also remember the smell of burning flesh and the grassy smell I felt when I came out of that hole. However, I don’t recall how I got out of there.

I am definitely the favorite son of the heavens, as without them, I would not have reached where I am today.

A wonderful trauma accompanies me that is still perfect despite a few minor flaws. Otherwise, I might have committed some folly, such as suicide.

His blessing did not stop with just that, for after I lost consciousness and before my flames devoured me like they did the group of bandits, I was rescued.

Now, the next part of the story is a bit boring.

After my rescue, I was taken to the village, where the mayor allowed me to live alone in an abandoned house, and the neighbors, taking pity on me, brought me meals for the day.

For the first time in my life, I was comfortable. Without having to listen to my boisterous parents. Without having to put up with their cheesy displays of love. But, although that was an ideal situation, I did not enjoy it.

Ignorant about the fact that what happened was just the beginning of my ascent. I uselessly cried every day.

Not only that, sometimes I would stop and stare at the emptiness for a long time while thinking about suicide, which luckily never happened, or else that would have been the greatest misfortune for the continent.

I must thank the couple of elders who took me out of that endless cycle of sadness.

Two people sent as heralds of the gods visited the house where I was staying.

They were the grandparents I had never met until then. The parents of my possibly deceased father. They were the ones my parents never told me about.

During their visit, almost nothing relevant happened. The only remarkable thing was that from that moment, the urge for power was born in me.

I thank them. I really thank them because seeing my grandmother cry while calling my mother a thieving bitch whore, who only took advantage of her innocent son and led him to a terrible fate. Also, seeing my grandfather, who looked at me with anger and displeasure, as if I were filth, I was motivated.

How could I not? If the desire I had to tear them apart was as big as the mountains. I wanted to lunge at them, to cut them in two with the axes my father had taken with him.

How dare she speak ill of my mother who, despite her fear, sacrificed herself for me. How that damned old woman dared to speak of my father as if he were a fool when he bravely faced death for his family alone. That old son of a bitch, his look, his damn look, how he could see me that way when I was in his flesh and blood.

Unfortunately, I was weak and impotent, even more so than usual, as I hadn’t eaten for days. I couldn’t even slap that slut.

As was to be expected from people with my lineage, even when I reached the point of having the power to carbonize them from head to toe, they had already died of old age. Not only that, although I thought that their children could be the ones to pay for their audacity, in the end, the persecution of the damned nobility prevented me from doing so.

Luck is always on my family’s side.

However, they are not on the same level as me. Even if I have not been able to do it before, when I leave here, I will make sure to raze their lands, their families, and all their possessions. Even if they have moved, I will find them no matter what. After all, what does it matter if one or two villages disappear along the way?

Anyway, all this is something that I will detail in a future record. For now, the important thing is to finish writing the story of this great being.

The future, my future, and the future of this continent were about to be ruined when that pair of worms decided to take me with them. However, the arrival of a single person prevented this from happening.

To the surprise of all present, a mage arrived in the village. At that time, I didn’t know why one would appear there, for in my mind and that of the other ignorant, the existence of someone of his kind was beyond our comprehension, but now I understand that his appearance was inevitable. After all, someone had to clean up the mess on the farm before things got bad.

What happened after that was nothing more than the destined journey starting its course.

When I was taken to present myself to him, his surprise and greed were impossible to hide. It was clear. A celestial talent like mine could not be found anywhere.

Therefore, he offered to raise me as a mage so that, in that way, he could live by taking advantage of the crumbs that I would throw my way. Of course, in the eyes of others, he camouflaged it as an act of kindness and compassion. So good was their performance that I was fooled too.

So good was his performance that he tricked me too, getting me to agree to go with him.

However, I forgive him, for he allowed me to stay away from that pair of vermin.

After following him to his mansion, my life as a mage began.

Live in an imperfect world in search of perfection

Live in an imperfect world in search of perfection

Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Native Language: English
We all have something we wish for. Innocent dreams or dark desires, many of which are best kept that way. After all, the dream of all life obtained in the wrong way, from one moment to the next, can turn into unbearable torture. Kyle is an ordinary guy who, for years, wanted to live in a fantasy. He longed to experience those mythical stories that books told him. He dreamed of a new life where he would magically not repeat his mistakes. Where the money he would rain down from heaven. Where he could get plenty of women. Where his deeds would be sung as mythical legends by bards in bars and street corners. Petetic and silly. His dream was madness beyond this world. But unexpectedly, he got what he asked for, but not what he wanted. He was born with nothing; he lost everything. Months full of fear, anger, and despair, to then enter a strange world. Inside an abnormal body accompanied by voracious monsters that would tear him to pieces at the slightest carelessness.


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not work with dark mode