Banished Disciple's Counterattack Novels & Stories

Quickly, I flipped onto my hands and knees. With a swift recovery, I retaliated. My fist connected with Klaus’s cheekbone with a resounding crack. I felt his bone shatter under my knuckles and saw his blood spurt from his mouth. “Nice one, brother, but not good enough.” He spat more blood onto the floor as he came at me again, this time with newfound hatred and fury. He kicked me a few times, but I managed to throw him off balance. Before he could regain his footing, I seized the opportunity to grab his arm and twist it backward until it popped out of its socket.

Teeth bared, and strength intensifying, I turned and slammed at the attacker. The struggle was brutal, and the scent of blood was strong in the cold evening air. Wolves screeched, fought, ran about. Every second called for clarity, and I offered it, moving through the chaos, defending my own, striking when needed, retreating when called for. Though we were outnumbered, we were not outmatched. Our advantage came from self-discipline and coordination. Tonight, my pack who had been taught to survive, to endure, followed my direction without question. Still, as we started to force the intruders back, I could feel something deeper, threads of interference, clues of a bigger scheme.

John pleaded, his voice choked with emotion, but his words fell on deaf ears as Mason continued his dark incantation, unaffected by John's pleas. "Stop!" John shouted once more, his voice ringing out with determination. Just as he was on the verge of surrender, sudden hope washed over him. His gaze snapped to his grandfather, Zion, stepping forward with his hand raised, countering Mason's dark magic. The older warlock's eyes glowed with power as he unleashed a forceful counterattack, pushing back against the evil force with all his strength.

Anything. But his eyes found her, and there was nothing in them. No flicker of the man who once brushed her hand in passing, no unspoken warmth—only the kind of cool disgust reserved for a stain on polished glass. He stepped to the center of the chamber. “Elders,” he said, his voice deep, even, “you’ve summoned me to address this… disruption.” His gaze slid back to her, deliberate and cutting. “I would see it handled swiftly.” Elder Morwen gestured toward Serena. “There are two proposals before us, Alpha. One—immediate banishment. Two—limited exile to the outlands for a season, so as not to fan the rumors further.”

he mumbled softly, and my brow creased. “I was banished, Zeno, and no longer carry such titles,” Cesan huffed as he glanced over at me with concern. I was focused on the boy flinching at Cesan and bit my lip. “The young man is full of fear and has recently been beaten horrendously,” Ojani whimpered in my mind. Looking sternly at Cesan, I swallowed uncomfortably and watched Salem storm into the foyer, then head for the boy. I raised my hand and released a small bolt of electricity before him, making him stop and glance at me with a scowl.

At this point, the last string of his patience had snapped. He wanted nothing more than to trample on Fane and show him it was meant to be powerful! The disciple swiftly launched toward Fane Fane. With a slash, his curved blade headed right toward Fane's throat. The wandering warriors gaped at how nimble and quick the disciple moved. Truly, the disciples of the Unbreaking Pavilion were special. Just with his speed alone would completely defeat most of the people there!

He could have taken it if it were something else other than an unexpected slap to the face! Woola! The other Altars’ disciples looked at the commotion and discussed among themselves. That was a new disciple, and yet he had dared to fight back against Master Alan—he must be mad!

replied Yreth with a slight nod. What the disciple had said was true. Even under such circumstances, Peter didn’t seem to be the least afraid of the Gunters, and it made Yreth seethe with anger. It was the reason why she wasn’t completely against teaching him a lesson or two. Upon getting Yreth’s approval, the disciple then took a step forward, ready to launch an attack! However, the second he made his move, a beam of light suddenly shot toward him! An explosive sound later, it took everyone a second to realize that the person’s arm had exploded! Not only that, but the disciple had been flung to the side with such force, that he was now nothing but a lump of dead flesh.

Their optical sensors shattered instantly, their synthetic bodies flying across the room and crashing into the digital-jukebox in a shower of sparks and synthetic coolant. "He's not using a data-port!" a terrified patron screamed from under a table. "He's fighting offline!" The remaining two Disciples activated their Mantis-Blades—glowing, high-frequency energy swords that extended from their forearms. They lunged at Caleb in perfect, synchronized mechanical synchronization.