The Unbreakable Walking Stick 소설 & 이야기

I was certain that the Voken bastard had been the phantom hand behind the brutal ambush that had broken my body. I would watch him bleed for this mess, even if it took me the rest of my life to orchestrate his downfall. A sharp, blinding pain flared violently up my legs and directly into my spine the exact second my feet touched the floor, and I was forced to grip the metallic walking staff. God, I hated this stick. I hated the cold feel of the metal beneath my palm, and I hated how foolish I looked relying on it. I hated how my life had turned out.

Walkers were considered one of the weakest dregs of the Undead society. Just like Beastmen had star warriors, Undead also had their own hierarchy, and Walkers sat at the base of this hierarchy. Walkers were generally weak and could be defeated by even 1 Star Beastmen with little difficulty. They only became an issue when they attacked in large numbers. The cry of one Walker could attract the attention of ten more, and ten could attract the attention of a thousand more, and a thousand a million! Therein lay the strength of Walkers – the absolute ability to never be alone; yet this did nothing to change how they were looked at by both Beastmen and sentient Undead. To them, Walkers were disposa

Xyla Quest subconsciously glanced at the surveillance screen first. Indeed, it was Ron Batton who stood outside the door. He was wearing a set of white martial arts outfits with a walking stick in his hand. The handle part of the walking stick was made of a huge, white jade ball. It seemed low-profile but yet had a tinge of luxury to it. Xyla quickly opened the door and passed Ron a pair of slippers. “Grandpa, these slippers are for you.”

The stick's head was carved into the shape of a black widow, its deadly hourglass painted red making it stand out against the stark silver. “You have endangered us all,” The man seethed. His voice was calm, sweet even, but the ex Emily thing knew that was just a mask. Her overlord was livid. “Your dalliances in the mortal world have drawn unwanted attention to us.” “Others have crossed the veil before,” The demon complained, trying to screw up as much defiance as she was able, though she was too frightened to bring up much. “Others have had good reasons. You were simply… bored...?”

She grinned widely and motioned me to follow her. "Be careful with the wheelchair. The trail seems really bumpy." I warned her, while trying not to trip over a rock in the dark. "I have been here more than you can imagine. I know every corner of this forest." She replied. We walked and walked, even though I told her to get back home when a spider got stuck in my hair and I lost my balance, tripped over and hurt my elbow. "Where are we even going to?" I was getting frustrated by walking through the endless trail of hell.

I stoop for the stick like a man trying to pick up a dropped promise, and the world says: nope, you don’t get that one back. I hear someone shout “Two-hand it!” from the sidelines. It’s not encouragement, it’s description. I plant my feet and squat like I mean it. Thank God for small mercies. The right-hand stick is all I’ve got left: they may measure the same, but they feel different.

I promise I will bring you back to the world of men with your father. I just closed my eyes and waited for my fate in the hands of this wolf. I could no longer fight my condition. Yes, I am powerful for reasons I cannot explain. That’s all my mom always reminds me of but I don’t know how powerful someone like me can be. I'm just a humble princess tired of living so breaking the law is my hobby. I smiled bitterly. But for some unknown reason, suddenly my red rose pin stuck in my black one cloak. I was fascinated there for a moment until my eyes widened. My symbolism.

Turning back on the path, he heard a faint whimper and rushed back. "Mother...mother?" He started hitting the door. "My son! Help me, please!" She cried aloud. "It won't budge" he shouted annoyingly. "Why are you so weak? Can't you push with all your might?" She screamed from the house. "I'm trying!" He shouted back He jerked and pulled, he kicked with his good leg still there was no difference. I need to get something, something bigger He looked around, his eyes roamed about, he saw a wooden rod, it looked like a walking stick, he smashed the door with it but the rod broke into pieces.

“It’s just a walk.” “Uhm,” “Come on, it’s just a walk.” Tippa reluctantly agreed, softly smiling up at him. Tippa couldn't resist the offer. She wanted to get to know him, too, and was so ecstatic he made the effort to find a way for them to talk. She reasoned it was a simple walk, and she wasn’t on the clock. So, they began walking, he said. “So, you are not from here, are you?” “No, how can you tell? Is it my accent?”

With renewed determination, I grab my bag and head out the door. *** I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders, and march into the opulent lobby of his high-rise building. The place reeks of wealth and power, but I‘m not going to let that intimidate me. Nah-uh. I've heard tales about Ethan, and "charming" isn't exactly the word that pops into people's minds when they talk about him. But hey, it's a big project, and I can't let his reputation deter me. I just have to keep my cool and show him what I'm made of.