My new series. Thanks for reading, and be sure to review if you can! I'm posting Chapter one too!
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Disclaimers: I do not own anything in this story that is affiliated with Maplestory.
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"Do you like being toyed with?" The voice echoed softly, the words sticking in Tuore's mind.
Tuore glanced around at his surroundings. He was completely encompassed in darkness, leaving him entirely defenseless.
"Answer the question!" The voice roared in blind fury, the sound waves reverberating off Tuore's skull. He barely flinched.
Tuore glared at the indistinct figure, and flashed the finger. He didn't care if it could be seen; he was allowing his disrespect free rein. "Make me, asshole." He spoke with a daring smirk, not bothering to suppress the raging ire that burned within him.
"What happened to your manners?" Tuore had barely enough time to absorb what the man had said before a gauntlet suddenly collided with his jaw, the raw power sending Tuore brutally crashing into the ground.
"I thought me and your mother taught you to treat your elders with more respect. Was I really that much of a bad teacher?" It sounded out again, that voice that stroke hatred in his soul. It reeked of mock kindness, something that Tuore abhorred, especially coming from a man like that.
Tuore lay sprawled over the cold marble floor, immense pain emitted by his jaw. The brute force must have wrenched it out of place. He felt the strong taste of copper splashed over his entire mouth, and wiped his mouth only to see crimson streaked across the back of his hand.
The man approached, his boots squeaking noisily against the smooth –as-glass floor. With each step he took, the distance between them closened, and Tuore's rage grew.
"Fuck. You." Tuore's vision was spinning, but he managed to muster enough self control to viciously spit at him. Vicariously, he took pride in imagining the small degree of displeasure he must have brought to the bastard.
Red specks of blood decorated the sleek Dark Crescent Boots that the man was wearing. Tuore felt himself being picked up by the tall figure; Tuore felt his muscles tense as he prepared for a counter-attack against the man.
Tuore was roughly grabbed by the neck of his Blue One-lined T-shirt, the material straining in the iron grip of the man. He could feel the dense and heavy Blue Dragon Gauntlet wielded by the man- with a shimmering polish- press deeply into his chest. The titanium material threatened to break his bones.
Tuore's hands balled up into compact fists, tiny hands that shook violently with fury. His eyes uncontrollably swelled up with tears- those glistening drops of sadness clung to his short eyelashes, unwilling to abandon their hope for the redemption of joy. Whether it was caused by pure vehemence or a complete loss of emotional control, even Tuore did not know for sure. Whatever did he do to deserve such treatment?
With a cry that was somewhere between a yelp of emotional pain and a ferocious call of battle, Tuore gathered his guts and slammed his fist into the sturdy chest-plate of the man- a custom designed Blue Neos. Tuore's fist- being one of an eight year old's- collided with the Blue Neos, resulting in a dull "thump".
Unfazed, Tuore landed blow after blow, his miniature fist striking the Blue Neos again and again. Tears streamed down his oval face, and he relentlessly struggled against the odds, pummeling the man that he hated so much. An idiot would know that he was wasting his time- the Blue Neos was one of the most, if not, the most powerful armour that was known in existence. It was reinforced with multiple layers of cushioning and metallic alloys that were enchanted with arcane magic to keep in place. A mere eight year old's puny fist had a snowball's chance in hell of even damaging it.
And yet, Tuore held on, as steadfast as when he had started. He repeatedly bashed his fist against the impenetrable wall, blood was now steadily tricking from his knuckles and soon they would be shattered, but not his spirit…
Lightning quick, the man slugged Tuore across the face, hard. Tuore was caught off guard. Tears of anguish flew into the air, gently falling unto the bitter chilly marble. The man followed up with a swift, effective blow to Tuore's stomach, forcefully robbing Tuore of whatever breath he had lingering in him. Tuore's eyes bulged in their sockets as the pain overwhelmed the limits of self-control that he could muster.
He recognised the immediate numbness that invaded him like a virulent virus, felt his body lose its tension as he shuddered due to his suffering. Black spots started to interrupt his vision, flashing in and out. He was blacking out.
"Why must you torture me like this? You've spent the last few years hurting me." The mask of hatred that had possessed him like a fiery ilfrit had cracked ever so slightly, revealing the fragile soul of an eight year old. He gazed at the man that was his father, his expression full of sorrow and hurt.
"Because." His father was expressionless.
"Why? I hate you!" Tuore exhausted the last remnants of his consciousness by utilizing it in a tormented scream.
"Then hate me. Fear me, hunt me, hate me."
The last thing Tuore saw before he blacked out was a crooked grin on the Paladin's mouth. But why? Weren't white knights supposed to help the world? Wasn't it one of the truths of the world?
He finally embraced the all-consuming black, his mind clinging on to those thoughts.
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Thats all for the prologue. Chapter 1 coming up!
Cya guys.
Sincerly,
Ccw