Se connecter“Are you ready to dance, brochacho?” Ringo called, with a Wild West stance.Tanaka lowered his stance, breathing in deep. “Si, partner.”The bell rang and their battle began.Ringo moved first. His feet barely touched the dirt before he was in front of Tanaka, arm snapping out, Ringo slightly hitting his jaw. The air buckled where his punch passed, a warped shimmer like heat rising off stone.Tanaka sidestepped.Or tried to.The shimmer followed him.The impact came a split second later, invisible and delayed, like the bunch had been stored and then released within him.
The train station at the city’s edge dumped them into a chaotic sprawl of noise, colour and dust. Even though it was early in the morning, around 7 am, the city was already alive. Banners fluttered like war flags above the plaza from all across the world, each boasting a different guild, nation or sponsor. Tournament officials in navy coats moved the crowd, guiding participants toward various side gates, scanning IDs, and barking out block assignments over the clamour.The scent of cheap coffee, fried batter, and too many bodies hung heavy in the warm air. Kieran tilted his head back, taking it all in. “Damn. This is just the prelim site?” Looks like a colosseum… If it was surrounded by baby Colosseums," Roy said, nodding toward the clus
The clatter of steel filled the air; it wasn’t wild or chaotic but rhythmic, like a pulse—steady, relentless, and almost meditative. Each strike echoed through the training hall, bouncing off the concrete walls and settling into the cold floor like a heartbeat refusing to slow.Kieran moved like a machine: calculated, fast, efficient. Every motion was stripped of excess, reduced to pure function. His eyes stayed locked on his opponent, unblinking, unyielding. Across from him, Tanaka stood his ground, his breathing steady despite the sweat gathering at his jawline. His grip tightened around the wooden sword, knuckles pale, but his stance remained firm. They had been going back and forth for nearly half an hour, neither speaking, both locked into that rare kind of silent understanding that came only from shared frustration and the need to hit something that wouldn’t break.Another clash—sharp, decisive. Kieran twisted his blade with a precision that bordered on unnatural, forcing Tanaka
Roy sipped from his cup and made a face. “Why do these people always do Mango dirty, and why is it kind of sour?” “Sour? This is the nectar of the gods.” Liam raised his own cup and had a sip. “Goddamn, this is sour.” Roy narrowed his eyes at the drink like it had insulted the fruit he liked most. “No, this is how they get you. First, it's kind of sour, but it leaves you with a sweet aftertaste, making you want to drink more. Next thing you know, you’ve bought three bottles and are crying in the shower.”Liam snorted. “Damn, bro, that’s deep.”“Exactly,” Roy muttered, taking another reluctant sip. “It’s always the simple things that kill you.”The two of them sat on the edge of a fountain in the market square, the sky melting into a soft golden hue. The evening crowd thinned around them as vendors started packing up, though laughter and the distant hum of street musicians still lingered in the air like smoke.Roy glanced down at the half-empty grocery bag by his feet and sighed. “Do
He finished the ice cream cone. It was nice.The town centre had grown louder.Crowds surged like waves, full of tourists, merchants, and the usual scatter of kids playing together. The festival banners hung for the tournament. People really do take this seriously, huh? The air was thick with spice, chatter and a faint hint of roasted peanuts.Roy got up from the bench and navigated through the crowd of people like a ghost, weaving between people with his shopping bags tucked under both arms, vegetable bags in one and spices, snacks and sauces in the other.He was halfway to the station when it happened.Even though the ice cream was long gone, the sticky residue was still faintly on his fingers.He was halfway to the station when it happened.A shoulder. A crash. The world was tilting; actually, it was Roy tilting.THUD.A bag burst open on the cobbled path, and the sound of bouncing carrots and tumbling onions echoed louder than it should have.People stared as it happened but just
A bright blue canopy on the corner of the square, with a small queue, the kind that shimmered like a summer sky. Underneath it, a stand.An ice cream stand.Roy stopped walking; he stared at it, thinking.The thing is Roy has always had a sweet tooth, but he hadn’t thought of it; he hadn’t craved it.“... Ice cream?”But now that he saw it… now that the image had wormed its way into his brain… He needed it. He didn’t know why. He just felt it, a strange surge of childish urgency. Maybe it was the heat that day, or the crowd, or just the fact that he hadn’t done something pointlessly self-indulgent in a while.Whatever the reason, he made his way towards the stands.Vanilla. Strawberry. Citrus. Something vaguely blue and probably artificial. He was reaching for his wallet when it happened.Someone brushed past him. Light contact, shoulder to shoulder, but it spun him slightly, just enough to throw him off balance.He turned with a half-apology already forming in his mouth.But then







