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Arcane of Elementals

Arcane of Elementals

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Feb 12, 2024
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Fiction
Fantasy
Triton Astarot is a sixteen-year-old boy who has been given the gift of magic. All his life, he wanted to use his talents to slay monsters and become an elementalist - a magic user of the highest title - but that would seem unlikely since only nobles could gain the title, and he was only a commoner When he entered a knight's challenge, his life then had a quick turn of fate as the knight was actually an instructor at a magic training academy called 'Arcanelock' and was searching for new students to enroll at the academy, so Triton did the obvious choice and accepted the invitation to enroll at the academy. Now Triton will have to face brutal challenges, which would seem to be harder than he thought as he makes powerful foes and embaks on a quest that'll either save the destruction of the last four kingdoms, or lose his life along with his friends'. [Please note that all images are not of my ownership, all credits for the pictures belong to the owners]
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(TWs: gore, abuse, sexual abuse, cursing) Why does he still breathe? Why is he kept alive in this shadowed purgatory where time has no meaning, and screams are swallowed by the walls? His cell is a cage, his life a cruel experiment, and his mind a battlefield. Questions claw at him relentlessly: Who is he? What is he? Why does this torment exist? The walls bleed stories of others-lost souls whose cries still linger, haunting the air. His own voice has grown hoarse from endless screams, his body a canvas of scars, a map of suffering that tells no answers, only pain. Every day is a ritual of degradation, where faceless captors toy with his humanity, stripping him of it piece by agonizing piece. The only constant is the endless cycle of questions. Why him? Why the torture? What is their purpose? He clings to the faintest memories of a time before-fleeting images of warmth, love, a face he cannot quite recall. But even those are slipping away, devoured by the void growing inside him. In this relentless, suffocating darkness, where hope is a distant memory, only one question remains: When will the game end, and what will be left of him when it does?

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