"Light and shadow make the world beautiful; embrace both to see clearly."
.
Chapter 01
.
The clearing was a quiet sanctuary, framed by tall, ancient trees that seemed to lean inward, their branches forming a natural canopy. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the soft earth with golden patches.
Frieren knelt at the centre of the clearing, her pale hair glinting faintly in the light as she carefully traced an intricate summoning circle into the ground. Despite her age and vast experience, her movements were oddly clumsy. The stick she wielded occasionally slipped in her hand, causing lines to wobble. Yet, the runes she etched were precise, glowing faintly with latent magic even before she activated them.
Stark stood several paces away, arms crossed and an expression of cautious scepticism etched into his face. He watched her work with the wariness of a man who had seen too many plans go awry. "I still think this is a bad idea," he said, breaking the silence. "You're messing with summoning magic, and you don't even know what—or who—you're going to bring here."
Frieren didn't look up. Her voice was calm, detached. "It's a calculated risk."
"A calculated risk," Stark repeated, shaking his head. "Right. That's what people say before they blow themselves up."
Fren stood closer to Frieren, her posture straight and her expression filled with unshakable faith. "If Mistress Frieren believes it's worth the risk, then it is. She wouldn't attempt this without a good reason."
"She doesn't always explain her reasons," Stark muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's what worries me."
Frieren finished the last rune with a slightly uneven stroke, then set the stick aside. She leaned back on her heels, examining the diagram with a critical eye. Despite its imperfections, the summoning circle pulsed faintly with power, as if alive.
Satisfied, she reached out and placed her hands on the outer edge of the circle. A soft hum filled the clearing as she began to channel her mana into the runes.
The glow intensified, spreading outward in rippling waves. The runes lit up one by one, their light merging into a radiant golden hue. The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet, and the air grew warm and heavy with magic.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the light dimmed, and the clearing fell silent.
Stark lowered his arms, which he'd instinctively raised to shield his face. "That's it?" he asked, his tone equal parts relief and confusion. "Nothing happened. I guess—"
"It didn't fail," Fren interrupted, her eyes fixed on the circle. She adjusted her glasses, her voice filled with certainty. "It's working."
Frieren remained silent, her gaze unwavering.
Before Stark could retort, the circle flared to life once more, this time with a blinding burst of golden light. The brilliance was so intense it seemed to fill every corner of the clearing, forcing Stark to step back and squint against the glow. A deep, resonant hum filled the air, followed by a sharp, unexpected sound—a scream.
Stark's instincts kicked in. His hand went to his weapon, and he leapt forward, positioning himself between the women and whatever had emerged. As the light faded, he tightened his grip, expecting a monster or some otherworldly abomination.
But it wasn't a monster. "It's... a boy?" Stark said, his voice filled with confusion.
Lying at the heart of the summoning circle was a young boy, no older than twelve or thirteen. His hair was short and messy, a striking shade of crimson that glinted like embers in the dimming light. His pale skin seemed untouched by the sun, and his clothes—far from being tattered—were pristine and unfamiliar. He wore a strange white robe that shimmered faintly, and over it was a cloak that looked oddly familiar.
Frieren stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate. She knelt beside the boy, her sharp eyes scanning him with the precision of someone who had seen far too much in her long life.
Carefully, she reached out and opened one of his eyes, tilting his head slightly to catch the light. His gaze was unfocused, his irises a soft golden hue that seemed to flicker faintly, like a candle's flame.
"Mistress Frieren?" Fren asked, taking a cautious step closer. "What is it? Is he... human?"
"He's human," Frieren murmured, her voice calm but tinged with something almost imperceptible. "Probably thirteen. But he has..." She paused, her fingers brushing against the edge of the cloak he wore. Her eyes narrowed.
"What?" Stark asked, stepping closer but keeping his distance from the circle. "He has what?"
Frieren rose slowly, brushing her hands against her cloak as if to dispel some unseen weight. She glanced at the boy's cloak once more, then at Stark and Fren. "He has the same mana as her."
Fren's eyes widened. "Her? Do you mean...?"
"Yes," Frieren said, her tone clipped. "Flamme."
Stark froze, the name cutting through the tension like a blade. "Flamme? As in the greatest mage in history? That Flamme?"
Frieren nodded once, her expression unreadable. "The mana is unmistakable. And the cloak..." Her voice trailed off, but she didn't need to finish the thought. Stark and Fren followed her gaze, their eyes settling on the boy's cloak. It was elegant yet simple, its design strikingly similar to the one depicted in countless illustrations of the legendary mage.
Fren gasped softly, her hands covering her mouth. "But how? Flamme has been gone for centuries. This boy... could he be her descendant?"
"Or something else entirely," Frieren said, her eyes narrowing as she turned her gaze back to the boy. "We'll know more when he wakes."
Õ—T—Õ
Naruto's senses felt dulled as he floated in the void—a stark, endless expanse of whiteness that neither comforted nor alarmed him. It was neither warm nor cold, neither soft nor hard; it was simply nothing. His memories were fragmented, bits of battle and pain coming back to him like shards of glass pricking his consciousness.
Akatsuki...
They had captured him. They had drained the Kyuubi. He could still feel the phantom ache where the immense power of the beast once surged through him.
Was this death?
He tried to speak, to scream, but his voice didn't carry. The emptiness swallowed all sound.
Then, out of the void, a figure appeared—a woman with striking red hair cascading like fire and piercing green eyes that glowed with intensity.
Her presence seemed to bring colour to the lifeless space. She was radiant, commanding, and familiar in a way that made his chest ache.
Before he could question her identity, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.
"Carry my legacy," she said, her voice both tender and commanding. "Do not falter."
And just like that, she was gone.
The whiteness shattered, and Naruto jolted awake.
His body felt heavy as he sat up, his breath coming in short gasps. His senses reeled; the unfamiliar scent of polished wood and the earthy smell of herbs filled his nose.
He blinked, trying to adjust to the dim light of a room.
He wasn't in Konoha, nor in any place he recognised.
The room was simple yet well-kept, with wooden furniture, a single window letting in soft sunlight, and a sense of warmth that was distinctly foreign.
Naruto's first thought was of his friends. Had Granny Tsunade saved him? Maybe Pervy Sage had swooped in at the last second. Or Kakashi-sensei—he was clever like that. But as his eyes scanned the room, his confusion only deepened.
A boy sat cross-legged beside his bed, casually polishing a massive axe that seemed almost too big for him to wield. He had red hair, not unlike the woman in the void, but his eyes were different kind of brighter, like a kind man. A jagged scar ran across his forehead, giving him an air of ruggedness despite his youthful appearance.
"You're awake," the boy said, his tone matter-of-fact but not unkind.
"Uh, yeah," Naruto replied, his voice raspy. He coughed and rubbed his throat. "Where am I? Did someone save me?"
The boy tilted his head, setting the axe down beside him. "You tell me. Who are you?"
Naruto frowned. "Naruto Uzumaki. And you?"
"Stark," the boy replied. He smirked. "Odd name you got there."
"Hey, yours is pretty weird too, y'know!" Naruto shot back, his indignation momentarily outweighing his confusion.
Stark laughed, a surprisingly hearty sound. "Fair enough. Where are you from, Uzumaki?"
"Konoha," Naruto said automatically, then paused. "Wait. Where am I? And what do you mean where am I from?"
"Konoha, hm?" Stark leaned back, his hands resting behind his head. "So you really are from a different world, huh?"
Naruto's jaw dropped. "What?!"
Before Stark could elaborate, the door creaked open. A girl, probably a few years older than Naruto, stepped in.
She had purple hair tied neatly back and a stoic expression that reminded him of Shino, minus the sunglasses. She carried herself with an air of efficiency, her movements precise and deliberate.
"You're awake," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Good. Mistress, he's awake."
Naruto blinked. "Mistress?"
The girl didn't answer, instead stepping aside to allow another figure to enter. The woman who stepped through the door was unlike anyone Naruto had ever seen.
Her super pale blonde hair shimmered in the light, and her eyes were sharp, calculating, and ancient in a way that defied her youthful appearance. But what caught Naruto's attention the most were her ears—long and pointed, almost like the elves in the storybooks Iruka-sensei had once read to the class.
The girl with purple hair gestured toward the woman. "This is Mistress Frieren, the elf mage."
Naruto gawked at the woman, unable to hide his amazement. "Whoa, your ears are so pointy! Are you like, a fairy or something?"
Frieren didn't respond. She approached him slowly, her gaze scrutinising, as if she were peeling back layers of his soul.
Without a word, she knelt beside the bed and tilted his chin up, her fingers cool and firm as she examined his face.
Her sharp eyes locked onto his as she muttered, almost to herself, "Are you Flamme?"
Naruto blinked. "What? No! I'm Naruto Uzumaki! Believe it!"
Frieren's expression didn't change. She studied him for a moment longer, her eyes narrowing slightly before she stood and turned away. Without a word, she left the room, her footsteps soft but deliberate.
"Huh?" Naruto watched her go, thoroughly baffled. "What's her problem?"
The purple-haired girl—Fren, apparently—cleared her throat. "Mistress Frieren is rarely wrong. If she's interested in you, there's a reason."
Stark chuckled from his spot by the window. "Don't take it personally. She's like that with everyone."
Naruto crossed his arms, his frustration mounting. "Yeah, well, I still don't get what's going on! Who's Flamme? And what's this about me being from another world?"
Fren hesitated, glancing at Stark. He shrugged. "Might as well tell him. Not like he's going anywhere."
Fren sighed. "Flamme was a legendary mage, a prodigy who shaped the magical world as we know it. Mistress Frieren was her apprentice. If Mistress Frieren thinks you're connected to her, it's no small matter."
Naruto scratched the back of his head, feeling more lost than ever. "But I don't know any Flamme! I'm just me! And what's with that summoning thing Stark was talking about?"
Fren and Stark exchanged a look. "You're not from here," Fren said finally. "That much is obvious. Mistress Frieren used a summoning spell to call forth a magical prodigy. You appeared."
Naruto's eyes widened. "Wait, you're saying she summoned me? Like, poof, out of nowhere? Like a summoning contract?!"
"Something like that," Stark said, grinning. "Guess you're the 'magical prodigy.'"
Naruto stared at them, his mind racing. He thought of the red-haired woman in the void, her words echoing in his ears.
'Carry my legacy.'
What did that mean? Why him? And what was he supposed to do now?
Naruto blinked, the weight of his reality sinking in. He was far from home, in a strange world with strange people, and, as far as he could tell, there was no way back.
He stared at the ceiling, the gravity of his situation pressing on his chest like a physical weight. His friends—Sakura, Kakashi-sensei, even that annoying Sasuke—were all gone. Granny Tsunade, who always scolded him yet believed in him, and Pervy Sage, who taught him more than just ninjutsu... They were gone too.
His dream, the one that defined him, the one he had clung to since he was a kid—to be the greatest shinobi, to be the Hokage—was suddenly unreachable.
Was it all gone?
Did he actually die back there when the Akatsuki drained him of the Kyuubi?
His eyes darted around the room until they landed on a small mirror propped up on the bedside table. Reluctantly, he turned to look, his heart pounding with trepidation.
The face staring back at him was... wrong.
His blonde hair was gone, replaced by a wild mess of fiery red strands that reminded him of that woman from his dream. His sky-blue eyes were no longer his own; instead, they were a vibrant jade green, reminiscent of Sakura's but deeper, more intricate, like the leaves of an ancient forest. His whisker birthmarks were gone too, and his skin... It was pale, almost translucent, like he'd never spent a day under the sun.
His breathing quickened as his hands shot up to touch his face, the coolness of his skin confirming what he saw.
Who is this? he thought in a frenzy. Was this him? Was he even Naruto Uzumaki anymore? Panic bubbled in his chest like a storm. His thoughts raced, each one sharper and more painful than the last. If he wasn't Naruto, then who was he?
Stark noticed immediately. "Hey, Uzumaki, you alright?" the red-haired boy asked, his brows knitting in concern. Naruto didn't respond, his breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps. Stark stood, approaching cautiously. "Hey, man, calm down! It's okay—"
Naruto's hands clenched the bed sheets as he tried to ground himself, but the fear was overwhelming. "I-I can't... I can't breathe," he gasped, his voice breaking.
Stark reached out, placing a hand on Naruto's shoulder. "Relax, okay? Just take deep breaths. In and out, come on."
But Naruto couldn't hear him. The room seemed to close in around him, the air growing thicker with every second. His chest heaved as his vision blurred, dark spots dancing at the edges.
"Mr. Stark, move," Fren's calm voice cut through the chaos like a blade. She had entered the room unnoticed, her purple hair catching the light as she stepped closer. She raised a hand, and a soft glow emanated from her palm. "Mr. Naruto," she said firmly, her voice steady and soothing, "you're safe. Sleep now."
Naruto's panic began to ebb as the light enveloped him, his breathing slowing until it steadied. His eyelids grew heavy, and within moments, he was unconscious, his body finally at rest.
Fren let out a soft sigh of relief, lowering her hand as the glow faded. "He was hyperventilating," she explained, glancing at Stark, who still looked unsettled. "He's overwhelmed. He cannot accept he is not in his world anymore."
Stark rubbed the back of his neck, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by unease. "I tried to help, but he wasn't listening. I don't think he even saw me."
Fren nodded, her expression softening as she looked at the boy now peacefully asleep. "He's just a kid," she said quietly. "A scared, lost kid in a place he doesn't understand."
Stark crossed his arms, his gaze lingering on Naruto. "What's Frieren going to do with him? She isn't the type to babysit."
Fren didn't answer immediately. Instead, she adjusted the blanket over Naruto, her movements careful and deliberate. "I don't know," she admitted. "But if Mistress Frieren believes he's connected to Flamme, then he's more important than we can imagine."
The room fell into silence, save for the sound of Naruto's steady breathing. Both Fren and Stark knew one thing for certain: this boy, whoever—or whatever—he was, had already changed everything.
Õ—T—Õ
The night was quiet, the only sounds coming from the occasional rustle of leaves in the cool breeze.
Frieren sat perched on the rooftop of the small church they had made their temporary base, her pointed ears barely visible under the hood of her cloak. In her hands was an old, worn book, its pages illuminated by the soft moonlight.
She flipped through it with the kind of patience only someone like her, who had lived for centuries, could possess.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Fren climbing up to join her. The younger mage settled beside her, brushing her purple hair back and exhaling softly.
"He was having a panic attack," Fren said after a moment. Her voice was steady, though tinged with concern. "I put him to sleep with a spell."
Frieren didn't respond, her eyes still on the pages of her book.
Curiosity got the better of Fren. "Mistress Frieren, what are you reading?"
"Flamme's notes," Frieren replied simply, turning another page. "The ones Eiesen helped us recover."
Fren's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Oh... Does it say anything about this boy—Mr. Naruto?"
"No," Frieren replied, her voice as neutral as ever, though there was a faint shadow of thoughtfulness in her expression.
Fren hesitated before pressing further. "Mistress, why do you think he's connected to her? But Mr. Stark has red hair too, and—"
"His eyes," Frieren cut in, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "They were like hers. And his mana... It was exactly like hers. Even the robes he wore—they matched Flamme's."
Fren furrowed her brows, trying to piece together the puzzle. "Do you think he could be her descendant?"
Frieren shook her head slightly, closing the book with a soft thud. "No. He's an outworlder—not from this plane."
"Oh," Fren said, pausing as if unsure whether to accept that answer. "Maybe it's just a coincidence?"
"Maybe," Frieren replied, though the doubt in her voice was subtle but present.
Fren thought about it for a moment longer, then said, "But his mana… It felt so vast. Untamed."
Frieren glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in her otherwise stoic gaze. "It's only natural for someone who's never had mana before."
"Huh?" Fren blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," Frieren replied, looking back toward the stars. Her words were cryptic, as they often were, and Fren couldn't tell if her mistress was teasing or genuinely avoiding the question.
Fren shifted uncomfortably, trying to reconcile the mysteries swirling around Naruto. "Well, he's not suppressing his mana like we do, right? So it just feels larger. But... it's not like yours. It's just... way more than mine."
Frieren's gaze remained fixed on the night sky. "Who said he wasn't suppressing it?"
The question landed like a weight in Fren's chest. She stared at Frieren in shock. "Huh?! What do you mean by that?"
Frieren didn't answer immediately, her expression unreadable as always. Finally, she said, "Nothing. You'll see soon."
Silence fell between them, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves and the faint chirping of crickets. The two women sat together, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken thoughts.
After a while, Fren spoke up again. "Mistress?"
"Hmm?"
"If he really is a prodigy of magic, will you take him as your apprentice?"
Frieren tilted her head slightly, as if considering the question. "Oh. Yeah."
Fren looked away, her hands fiddling with the hem of her cloak. "...I see."
Frieren glanced at her, catching the subtle shift in her demeanor. "Is something wrong?"
Fren shook her head quickly, forcing a small smile. "No, nothing. I was just... wondering."
Frieren didn't press further, though her perceptive gaze lingered on Fren for a moment longer before returning to the horizon. The stars shone brightly overhead, their light pale compared to the weight of the questions surrounding the boy asleep in the church below.
Õ—T—Õ
Naruto woke up in the unfamiliar room, the events of earlier still fresh in his mind, but this time, he felt calmer. The scent of food filled the air, and his stomach growled. His eyes darted around until they landed on Stark, who sat casually nearby, his massive axe leaning against the wall.
"Yo, you're awake again," Stark greeted with a small wave. "Hungry?"
Naruto grinned, his usual energy returning. "Starving!"
Stark handed him a plate, and Naruto tore into the food with gusto, grinning between bites. "Man, this is great! You're not half bad, Stark."
Stark chuckled. "Glad you like it. So, what do you think of this place?"
Naruto glanced around. "Well, it's cozy, but uh... where am I, exactly?"
Before Stark could answer, Naruto's gaze fixed on the giant axe beside him. "Whoa! What's with that huge axe? It looks awesome!"
"Oh, this?" Stark patted it proudly. "It's a gift from my master, Riesen. A warrior's weapon."
Naruto nodded, his excitement palpable. "That's so cool, y'know! Your master must've been amazing."
Stark smiled. "He was. What about you? You look like a fighter too."
"Pretty much," Naruto said between bites. "Been training since I was a kid."
"That's awesome! Maybe we could spar sometime," Stark offered, clearly intrigued.
"Totally!" Naruto agreed enthusiastically before his expression darkened. "But... how am I still alive? The last thing I remember... I was killed."
Stark's eyes widened. "Killed?! By who?"
Naruto's face hardened. "A group called the Akatsuki. They wanted the power inside me—Kyuubi's power."
Stark tilted his head, confused. "Kyuubi? What's that?"
Naruto sighed. "It's... complicated. A power they thought would help them rule the world. Or something like that."
Before Stark could ask more, the door opened, and Fren stepped in with Frieren following behind her. Fren gave Naruto a kind smile. "Good to see you up and about."
Naruto nodded. "Yeah, thanks. But seriously, how did I end up here?"
Frieren, standing silently by the door, spoke flatly. "I was attempting to summon a prodigious mage. It seems I summoned you instead."
Naruto blinked, then scowled, pointing at her. "Oh, Stark did tell me that. It was YOU! You're the one who dragged me into this mess!"
Fren stepped forward, hands raised. "Mr. Naruto, please don't speak to Mistress Frieren like that."
Naruto raised an eyebrow. "Mistress? You look older than this pointy-eared gal. What is she, some kind of noble?"
Fren frowned slightly. "She's my mentor."
"Wait, she's your mentor?" Naruto looked Frieren up and down. "But she looks younger than you!"
"She's actually over a thousand years old," Fren said matter-of-factly.
Naruto froze, his jaw dropping. Then, as if a switch flipped, he burst into laughter. "Over a thousand years old?! So she's like Granny Tsunade, but 500 times worse!"
Frieren's eyes narrowed slightly. "Disrespectful brat."
"What did you say, hag?"
"Don't call me that, brat."
Naruto smirked, cupping a hand to his ear. "Can't hear you, h-a-g!"
Frieren sighed, her tone icy. "You're hopeless."
"And you're an old hag!" Naruto shot back with a triumphant grin.
Stark struggled to keep a straight face while Fren looked torn between exasperation and amusement. Frieren, as stoic as ever, turned on her heel and left the room without another word.
"Hey, where are you going?!" Naruto called after her.
"Probably to get away from you," Stark muttered with a chuckle.
Naruto huffed, crossing his arms. "She started it." Then, despite his frustration, he found himself smiling. For the first time since waking up in this strange world, things felt... almost normal.
The next morning, Naruto emerged from his room wearing an unfamiliar but striking set of robes. They were soft to the touch, made of a material unlike anything he'd encountered before. The deep gold and white tones shimmered faintly in the light, giving them an almost ethereal quality. Stark had explained that these robes were what Naruto had arrived in, preserved in immaculate condition through some ancient magical enchantment.
Naruto adjusted the fit awkwardly. "Man, this stuff is fancy. Not really my style."
"It suits you," Stark said with a shrug. "Besides, it's not like we have a wardrobe full of warrior outfits lying around."
Naruto sighed, glancing at the strange reflections in the polished glass of the church window. His jade-like eyes—so foreign compared to his original blue—and his pale skin stared back at him, unfamiliar and unsettling.
Throughout the day, his thoughts swirled like an untamed storm. Magic, this force beyond comprehension, had not only yanked him from the brink of death but also hurled him into a world he didn't understand. Fren's words echoed in his mind: there was no known way to reverse the summoning spell. Even Frieren, with her thousand years of experience, couldn't provide a solution.
His heart ached for the home he might never see again: the bustling streets of Konoha, Iruka's warm smiles, Kakashi's lazy but watchful eyes, Jiraiya's wild antics, and Sakura's sharp but caring reprimands. His dream to become the Hokage and bring Sasuke home… Was all of it really gone?
The following morning, during breakfast, Naruto finally spoke his mind. The clatter of utensils paused as he stood abruptly, a determined fire blazing in his now-unfamiliar eyes.
"I've decided," he said, his voice steady. "I'm going to learn magic. I'll figure out a spell that'll get me back to Konoha."
The room fell silent. Stark stopped chewing, and Fren set down her fork.
"And what if no such spell exists?" Fren asked cautiously. "What will you do then, Mr. Naruto?"
"That does make things a lot more difficult." Naruto hesitated but only for a moment.
He clenched his fists, his resolve unshaken. "If it exists, I'll find it, if it doesn't, then I'll make it."
Frieren, who had been quietly sipping her tea, looked up sharply. She studied the boy as if searching for something in his expression. For a fleeting moment, she was reminded of Flamme, the prodigy mage who had once uttered something equally audacious.
"You really think you can do that?" she asked at last, her tone unreadable.
Naruto met her gaze with unwavering confidence. "I don't think—I know I can."
Frieren stood, folding her napkin with deliberate care. "Then, Naruto, would you like to learn magic from me?"
Naruto blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "From you? The hag?"
Fren's exasperation was immediate. "Mr. Naruto, Mistress Frieren might be socially awkward, slow, and late to everything," she said, making Frieren's eye twitch. "But she's an incredible mage— the only apprentice of the Legendary mage Flamme and a remarkable teacher. Both Mr. Heiter and Mr. Eisen said so!"
Naruto tilted his head, his lips quirking into a grin. "Well, I guess I could give her a shot. After all, it's kinda her fault I'm stuck here anyway."
Frieren ignored the jab, nodding with a calm that was almost infuriating. "Then it's settled. Naruto Uzumaki, you are now my official second apprentice and the fourth member of our party."
Stark groaned, dramatically throwing his hands into the air. "Another mage? Great. Now I'm outnumbered by magic nerds."
Naruto puffed out his chest. "Hey! I can fight too, you know!"
Stark leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Oh yeah? Think you can beat me, kid?"
Naruto's grin widened, his cockiness returning in full force. "Bring it on, big guy!"
Fren sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as the two continued to bicker. Frieren, however, resumed her breakfast with her usual detached expression, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. This boy, she mused, was reckless and brash—but perhaps he was just what the party needed.
Õ—T—Õ
Author Note:
It's my birthday today, so what better way to celebrate than with a new story?
After 350 days on this platform, I've written 22 stories (yes, all ongoing—none abandoned) with over 900K words in total and nearly half a million views. I proofread everything myself—no editors or betas here—and somehow manage to write over 35K words every week while updating at least 8 stories weekly.
A huge thanks to:
…impashadows, SentinalSlice, Traitor of All Traitors, Samuel Santillan, ArashiNokitsune, Redone1977, Shisui No Akatsuki, EnoshimaYuno29, GodlyVortexofPain, Pinkypi, Joanne Frances Tiano Cajilig, FangofFire…
…for your unwavering support, help, and motivation. Apologies to everyone I couldn't mention, but know that I appreciate all of you.
And for those people who annoy me with copy-n-paste business offers in the review sections and PM… I have nothing to say.
I would like to remind you something: anybody writing here writes not for money and readers certainly aren't paying, so if you want to yell or waste your strength, do it somewhere else. Unless you have anything productive to say, go away. Don't like my story or MC? Think you can do better or can spend more time than me? Then be my guest, write one story yourself and let others be the humble judges.
Lastly, here are some highlights from my works:
Best Story: The Crystal Sage
Most Popular: Eyes That Hold The Heavens
Most Loved: A Greedy Witch in a Fantasy World
Thank you for sticking by my side. Here's to more stories and better writing ahead!
~Phoenix