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Heroes or Transcendents (3)

It is impossible for me not to repeat it to you, as not doing so would be an ugly act of selfishness on my part. I am not selfish. I am not ugly. I am a good mage, so I will tell you again.

Trauma is the most beautiful and necessary experience for a skilled mage. It is an event that the subject must go through if he wishes to break the chains that bind him by killing his old self and rising from his ashes.

Having had an ordeal of the highest category, my subsequent steps were unparalleled and unstoppable. I moved forward, breaking all kinds of milestones like a flash of fierce lightning flashing in the stormy sky.

A miserable farmer, in just one year, became the most talented one-star mage of all time.

Sadly, at that time, I could not enjoy the advantages that power brings with it, such as the astonished looks of the servants in the old man’s mansion, as my mind was focused on gaining more and more power. A misfortune that could not be changed until several years later.

Either way, my rapid and unbeatable progress continued.

At the age of sixteen, I rose to the second rank, and at twenty-one, a new three-star mage was born on the continent.

The honor those who witnessed my meteoric rise must have felt must have been immeasurable. However, in reality, fear and shame were born in the heart of that stinking old man. The poor ignoramus really thought he could control me. He, who was nothing but a piece of rubbish, believed he could direct my destiny.

Although he spent his whole miserable life reaching four insignificant stars, his dreams were so high that they seemed to be able to touch the sun.

He couldn’t hold me back. He could not control me. He could never take advantage of me, and that is something both he and I knew. So, he thought of a plan. One so stupid that it could only have come from his wrinkled head or one of his useless friends.

During all the years I lived in his mansion, the old man never made an effort to hide his true intentions, for although he lied when he said he would take care of me, in fact, apart from the few classes I received from him, he never spoke to me in private.

Although, of course, that didn’t matter to me. I was happy as long as the bastard gave me the resources I needed to learn more about magic every day, and since he complied, I respected that. I was even a little fond of that scum.

I was so naïve that I thought his long absences were to travel all over the kingdom, helping other people like me.

My ignorance had led me to think that the mage world was neat and proper. I believed that every mage, no matter how insignificant his talent, would behave in a way that would not tarnish the precious title he held.

However, upon reaching the age of twenty-four, that absurd belief was forced to change.

Due to my stupid respect for the old man, when he first spoke to me in a friendly way to invite me to a meeting with his friends, I accepted, thinking that an elegant academic conference would be held in such a place.

Having that mindset, it’s no surprise that my expectations have been brutally shattered.

The place I attended was the exact representation of an entrance to hell.

Although no blood adorned the walls, other fluids stained the floor. In there, carnal pleasures were expressed in all their splendor.

A wild party in which a group of old men wallowed like insects in an endless orgy; bathing in flesh, alcohol, and drugs; screaming with pleasure while their slaves watched them with eyes full of envy.

Disgusting, disgusting, sickening. After witnessing such a scene, I hesitated for a few instants between tearing my eyes out or performing a slaughter.

Fortunately, before I did anything crazy, I was overcome with reason. I refrained from any action that would harm my future.

Everything has a reason for being, and my arrival at that place was no exception. That view allowed me to remove the blindfolds from my eyes. For the first time, I looked at the true colors that color this world. Nothing obstructed me from seeing the lust, greed, and ignorance of the man who adopted me.

That day I also understood that the profession of the mage, despite being the noblest and just of all, was plagued by damned insects that corrode it.

I learned many things in just one night, but everything described above is insignificant compared to the most valuable thing I got from there. In that place, surrounded by impure beings, my soul knew what true pleasure is.

Dear reader, I hope you do not think ill of your master. I would never allow a group of whores to touch this holy body of mine, for to do so would be no different from committing sacrilege against the heavens that permitted its birth. Alcohol or drugs were neither acceptable, for such a substance was not far from the poison that would dull my precious brain.

What I loved was the view that unfolded before me.

I loved to see the idolatry in those lowly eyes that, despite how dirty the actions of the geezers were, worshipped them as gods in a mixture of jealousy and fear.

I discovered the value of absolute power. Of the power of magic that rises supreme before everything and everyone.

I finally understood what my mission in this world was.

If before I was striving to grow due to a foolish motivation for revenge, in that instant, on that short night, I understood that my duty was to rule over others. I understood that I had to take charge of clearing the name of the mages and turn such a profession into something worthy of the power it wields.

The motivation that was born in me led to the fact that, by pure coincidence, the old man’s goal was achieved as my daily routine shifted away from the comfort zone in which I was confined.

I stopped immersing myself day and night in the books of the mansion because, since then, I began to frequent bars and similar areas, only to strengthen my ambition.

However, that, my way of acting, caused the old man to misinterpret my sheer motives with some kind of depraved act like the ones he performed.

As a result, his attitude towards me changed. Firstly, he stopped going out as often as he used to. He kept his filthy vices under control as best he could to get emotionally close to me, for whenever he ran into me, he would stop and talk to me about all sorts of crap.

Fucking piece of shit. He must have been so happy thinking I had fallen to his level.

Oh! How I enjoyed the day when I saw his stupid face wonder and fill with fear as he saw me advance in rank to the same level as him… no, we were both as different as heaven and earth. That scum took a century to reach a measly fourth rank. However, I, at only thirty years old, made it.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed that stark contrast. He did too. The miserable bastard knew it, too. He feared me. So, controlled by fear, he locked himself in his room and hired dozens of guards to surround the mansion.

Nonsense! How could a bunch of barbarians compete against me?

The geezer’s dementia was getting out of control.

That act deserved to be punished, but luckily for him, I didn’t have the slightest interest in his miserable possessions. My eyes only point to the pinnacle of magic and nothing else.

Then, a year after my promotion, I set off from that pigsty, heading for the only magic academy in the kingdom.

But, of course, I was not going as a mediocre student. Unlike the filthy sons of nobles, my goal was higher. I was going straight to become a new docent on campus.

However, during the trip, a minor problem arose that almost caused me to explode with rage and humiliation.

That scumbag, driven by his paranoia, dared to send the guards to the mansion to make sure I really got away from him.

If it hadn’t been for the little thanks I had for him, I would have certainly gone back to take that son of a bitch’s life. The years in which he helped me despite his dirty intentions were what saved him.

Enough. The life or death of that thing is not relevant to this story.

What is worth detailing is where I was headed. Although, by the time you read this document, such a site will exist only in the history books, as there is no way I will allow such a worm hatchery to persist during my reign.

That is a site where the king forces his slaves to send their children from the age of ten to learn about the holy scriptures. Nevertheless, the wealthier houses, such as dukes or royalty, do not comply with that rule. They prefer to teach them from home.

It’s always the same with those brutes. They waste precious resources and time for wretched maggots to spend decades trying to reach a paltry third rank.

Therefore, the disgust I felt at teaching them every week was insufferable. However, I had to endure it in an act of extreme will since I had reasons to stay there.

One of them was money. Dirty and corrupt money was always necessary. When I left the house of that old degenerate, the constant funds disappeared, so I had to look for a new source of income.

Even though that damn place didn’t give me the treatment I deserved, the salary was in the minimum range of what I could accept. In addition, when I rose to the fifth rank of magic, my position as a teacher would also improve.

However, my main motive to improve myself was not money, not even the ambition that was born in me years ago. No, I worked so hard, day and night, enduring the vermin that fought each other for a bit of my precious knowledge, all so that I don’t have to bend over.

I hated bowing my head in front of a group of geezers who only surpassed me by one measly rank. So, for my pride and dignity, it was necessary to improve, and that is where the second reason for me to stay in that dump lay.

No matter how dirty and smelly that place was, the academy was undoubtedly the center of the magic in the kingdom.

It was not because prominent figures in the field of magic graduated from there. After all, those spoiled children would never know what it is like to experience an unforgettable trauma. No, what was precious about the place was the stay of the most powerful wizard of the age, a being worthy of eight stars.

Next to the best, that’s the only place I could have resided.

Of course, staying there only to see him would be foolish. What was important were the occasional lectures he gave to the teachers at the academy.

They were few, very few, in fact. But every one of them was valuable.

All that contributed to the fact that, thirteen years after I became a teacher, I achieved the fifth star.

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