Out in the vast expanse of the sea, Mark lounged on the edge of his ship’s bed, a trail of cigarette smoke curling lazily above him. His gaze was distant, locked on the rhythmic sway of the waves beyond the porthole. He took a slow drag, exhaling with deliberate calmness. “Fighting, huh?” he muttered, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smirk. “It’s naturally stimulating. Fighting is everything. You fight with words, with your mind, and, best of all—physically. And if you want to win?” His voice grew cold, laced with an edge of certainty. “You beat your opponent into the ground. No mercy.”
Meanwhile, back on the outskirts, Lucy delivered a brutal uppercut with her brass knuckles, the force sending Mel reeling. He gasped, choking on the sharp pain radiating through his jaw as he staggered back.
Before he could recover, Lucy’s finger jabbed against his chest with eerie precision. Her expression twisted into a confident grin. “Ever heard of a one-inch punch?” she teased, her voice dripping with malice.
Without waiting for an answer, she pulled her fist back just slightly—barely an inch—and drove it forward with explosive power. The impact sent shockwaves through Mel’s body, forcing the air from his lungs in a strangled gag. He stumbled, clutching his chest, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
Mel hit the ground hard but kipped up effortlessly, his sharp eyes locked on Lucy. “She’s dangerous… Is he like that too?” His gaze flicked to Logan, who sat cross-legged nearby, watching with an unsettling mix of admiration and amusement.
From the car, Elowen’s expression remained calm but focused, her sharp instincts analyzing the fight. “I know Mel,” she thought. “He doesn’t hold back once someone threatens his friends. If she’s pushing him this far, she must be insanely strong.”
Lucy dashed toward Mel with an excited grin, her brass knuckles gleaming in the light. She drove a punch toward his chin, but this time, Mel was ready. Using his webs, he stuck the hilt of the wooden sword to his knuckles, turning it into makeshift brass knuckles of his own. As her punch connected, Mel struck back with equal force, the impact reverberating through their clash.
Lucy’s eyes widened with delight, her grin growing even wider. “You’re so strong!” she exclaimed, tying her hair back with swift precision. “You’re the best! I accept you as my leader, Melanthius!”
Without hesitation, she lunged again, her brass knuckles connecting with his side. Mel retaliated with a well-placed punch, the hilt of the sword digging into her ribs. The two exchanged blows in a flurry of strikes, each hit charged with raw power.
Breathing heavily, Mel growled, “What’s all this talk about leaders? What are you even talking about?”
Lucy’s grin turned feral as she spun into a palm strike, catching Mel square in the chest. The force sent him flying backward, crashing into a tree with a loud crack. Mel coughed, clutching his side as he staggered to his feet.
“She’s relentless,” he thought, gripping his staff and spinning it with purpose. “I need to take her down quickly—then I can get back to training with Elowen.”
Lucy tilted her head, her smile never faltering. “Ready for more, leader?” she taunted, stepping forward, her every movement radiating confidence.
Mel spun his staff, and a sudden gust of dense, swirling clouds shot toward Lucy. The force struck her hard, sending her skidding back despite her attempt to plant her feet. She braced herself, but the sheer pressure of the wind pushed her further until she tumbled backward onto the ground.
“That’s enough,” she muttered darkly, her tone calm but laced with menace. Rising to her feet, she wiped her mouth, her smile growing sharper. “I’m satisfied for now.”
Mel didn’t let up. He dashed forward, determined to press the attack, but then his body froze. His eyes widened in fear as an overwhelming sensation overtook him. It felt as if his skull had been shattered, pain erupting from the imaginary wound. Mel collapsed to his knees, clutching his head in confusion.
Panting, he looked up at Lucy, who loomed over him with a wicked grin, her eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. “What’s wrong, leader?” she mocked, leaning in slightly. “Did you get hit?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she echoed Logan’s earlier taunt, only replacing “cut” with “hit.”
As Mel’s breathing steadied, Lucy crossed her arms and began explaining. “Your Gate members from the Blades and Blunts have this magical ability. It’s what makes us so dangerous. Blades can make people think they’ve been slashed, and Blunts? We can make you believe you’ve been hit. It’s a mental disruption technique, a small but deadly advantage,” she said, her smirk widening. “Your father taught it to our parents long ago.”
Mel’s heart skipped a beat, his grip tightening on the staff. “Y-you’re connected to Merlin?!” he stammered, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and dread.
Lucy nodded, her expression triumphant. “Of course. Our parents were part of a Gate known as the Blades and Blunts. After your father’s disappearance, the Gate fractured, each side going their own way. We’ve been waiting for a sign—a call from someone to confirm if you were worthy.”
Her words hit Mel like a tidal wave, and he loosened his grip on the staff until it dropped to the ground with a dull thud. “This changes everything…” he muttered under his breath, his usual composure shaken.
Lucy tilted her head, raising an eyebrow at his sudden shift. “Well, well, your whole demeanor changed,” she remarked, her tone half-amused, half-curious.
In a flash, Lucy dashed at him, ready to capitalize on his hesitation. But then she froze mid-strike, her confident smirk faltering. Her expression twisted into confusion and a flicker of fear as she suddenly clutched her neck and chest. The sensation of being slashed overwhelmed her senses, yet when her hands frantically searched for the wound, she found none.
“What the—?!” Logan yelled from the sidelines, standing up abruptly.
Lucy’s grin returned, wider and more ecstatic than before. Her breath quickened, and her eyes sparkled with exhilaration. “You… you did it!” she shouted, her voice rising with excitement. “You’re growing in real time!”
Mel steadied himself, gripping his staff tightly as he rose to his full height. His piercing gaze locked onto Lucy’s, the weight of what he had just accomplished hanging heavy in the air like the calm before a storm. Slowly, a confident smirk spread across his face as he began to spin the staff with practiced precision, the air around it humming with danger.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with a sharp edge. The staff spun faster, an almost mesmerizing blur. “Did you get cut?” he taunted, his tone daring and unyielding.
Lucy’s exhilarated grin faded into something softer, a flicker of genuine respect crossing her features. To Mel’s surprise, she and Logan both sank to one knee, bowing their heads low before him.
Mel blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The deadly tension that had filled the space moments ago shifted into something different—something almost reverent.
“Captain,” Lucy began, her voice steady and commanding as she straightened her posture. “Allow us to formally introduce ourselves. I am Lucy, second-in-command of the Blunts Gate, at your service.” She placed a hand over her heart and bowed slightly, her expression resolute.
Logan followed suit, stepping forward with a sharp nod. “And I’m Logan, second-in-command of the Blades Gate. At your service!” he declared, his voice brimming with pride as he dipped his head in respect.
Unnoticed by anyone, Anita perched silently on a high tree branch, her knees drawn to her chest as she observed the scene below. Her sharp eyes stayed fixed on Mel.
"Mel’s so strong," she thought, her mind drifting to memories from her childhood. "When I was five, everyone talked about Merlin. He wasn’t just a wizard; he was a legend—a rockstar, even. But what happened to turn him into an overlord? Mel and his father… they couldn’t be more different."
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Her brow furrowed as she mulled over the fragmented stories she’d heard. "All I know is that Merlin was once a great leader, beloved by so many. Then he vanished, only to return… changed."
Suddenly, she saw two ships floating to the outskirts, the blade’s boat and the blunt's boat. “SHIT!” She hid under a bunch of leaves.
“They’re here,” Logan said and Elowen stepped out of the car and towards Mel’s side. Clyde followed and Lance limped to Mel, clutching his wounds. “Who’s here?” Mel asked as he saw Mark, leader of the blades gate, standing dangerously on the edge of his boat and Yasmine, leader of the blunts gate doing the same on her boat. “Melanthius Shadowbane!” They yelled at the same time. “Your gate has arrived!” They announced loudly and Mel’s eyes widened. “My…gate?!” He shouted in alarm.
The ships began getting closer. “Uhh, honey! You wanna back up a bit?!” Mark called out and Yasmine yelled back. “I can’t parallel park a ship!” She yelled and the boats collided with each other and the two gates yelped in shock.
“Are they serious?!” Mel, Clyde, Lance, and Elowen thought, their faces white in confusion.
“You know what, that’s my bad!” Yasmine called out, her voice carrying over the murmurs of frustration from her gate members. “Sorry, everyone!”
As the ships finally docked, Yasmine grabbed hold of a rope, launching herself gracefully into the air. Her movements seemed almost choreographed, like something out of slow motion, as she spun midair with her eyes closed. She landed with a thunderous BOOM on her forearm, shaking the ground beneath her.
Standing up casually, she dusted off her long brown hair and grinned at the group. “I’m Yasmine, leader of the Blunts faction. But as of today, I’m the commanding officer of Merlin’s Gate—now Melanthius’s Gate.”
She calmly popped her forearm back into place with an audible crack, causing the group to collectively wince.
“D-do you want to get that checked out?” Elowen asked hesitantly, raising a concerned finger.
Before Yasmine could respond, a sudden piercing bird call split the air. It was Mark, drawing all eyes toward him.
Determined not to be outdone, he grabbed a rope from his ship and swung into the air, attempting the same dramatic entrance. However, his movements quickly turned chaotic, spinning dangerously as he flailed midair.
“HELP!” Mark yelled, his arms flapping wildly.
He landed headfirst onto the hood of Mel’s car with a loud CRUNCH, causing the entire group to recoil in horror.
“Are you okay?!” they shouted, rushing to his side.
Mark stumbled to his feet, wobbling as he clutched his neck. “OW! Damn it!” he hissed, shaking his head before offering a pained smile.
“I’m Mark,” he said, cracking his neck again with a wince, “leader of the Blades faction, and now second in command of Merlin’s Gate—now Melanthius’s Gate.”
He stood there, rubbing his neck, while the kids stared at him in stunned silence.
“Uh… should we… call someone?” Clyde muttered under his breath, his face pale as he glanced nervously between the crumpled car and the visibly injured Mark.
Lucy stood proudly in front of Yasmine, while Logan mirrored her stance in front of Mark. Then, as if on cue, the fifty members of the Blunts gang and the fifty members of the Blades gang stepped forward, forming an intimidating line of one hundred on the outskirts.
Mel instinctively took a step back, his eyes wide with apprehension.
“Mel, we have to get out of here!” Elowen whispered urgently, grabbing his collar.
Mel nodded quickly. “Yes, they’re really insane!”
Mark snapped his fingers and barked, “Logan, five hundred flips, now!”
Without hesitation, Logan began flipping at a breakneck pace, his movements precise and almost mechanical.
Elowen’s jaw dropped, her confusion and frustration bubbling over. “See?! That kid just did five hundred flips for no reason!” she hissed through gritted teeth.
But Mel’s gaze hardened. “Wait, they know something about Merlin,” he said, stepping forward cautiously.
As soon as he moved, the entire gate of Blades and Blunts dropped to their knees in unison, their voices booming: “SIR, WELCOME, SIR!”
Mel flinched at the display. “Uhh… at ease?” he said awkwardly, and the gate stood back up, their formation still rigid.
“WAIT JUST A MOMENT!” a booming voice cut through the tension.
From the other side of the field, Goda marched forward with Mel’s fish army in tow. The Atlanteans moved with purpose, their webbed hands gripping weapons made of coral and seashells.
“I don’t know who you are,” Goda declared, pointing an accusatory finger at the gate, “but we were Melanthius’s first army!”
The fish army pumped their fists in the air with a collective roar. “YEAH!”
Mel’s head darted back and forth, his expression caught somewhere between bewilderment and dread.
“BLADES AND BLUNTS!” the gate bellowed, their voices shaking the ground.
“ATLANTEANS!” Mel’s fish kingdom shouted back, their enthusiasm rivaling that of their newfound rivals.
Caught in the middle of the escalating standoff, Mel groaned, rubbing his temples. “This is getting out of hand…” he muttered.
“Alright, that’s enough!” Clyde’s voice cut through the chaos like a sharp whistle, and all heads turned toward him. He sat casually on the roof of Mel’s car, one leg dangling lazily off the side.
Mel’s shoulders relaxed slightly, a grin creeping onto his face. “It’s Clay! He was a delinquent before, so he knows how to handle this type of chaos! …Does he have to sit on my car, though?” Mel thought with a twinge of irritation.
Clyde stood up on the roof, his stance commanding despite the unconventional platform. “Listen up!” he called out, his voice carrying authority. “You’re both Melanthius’s members. That means this nonsense ends here and now!”
The Blades, Blunts, and Atlanteans quieted down, their attention fully on him.
“Mel’s got bigger things to deal with than babysitting all of you,” Clyde continued, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd. “So here’s how this is going to work. The Blades and Blunts will be stationed in Auroria Dominion, and the Atlanteans will remain in Atlantis. You’re all a part of his gate, but you’ll operate in your own territories. He’s way too busy to control both factions directly.”
The murmurs of agreement started to rise among the crowd as they nodded in understanding.
Clyde smirked and spread his arms wide. “So, I, Clyde Sunnyday, will take charge of the Atlanteans. And Lance Landthug—alongside the Blades and Blunts’ leaders—will oversee the Blades and Blunts faction. Simple enough, right?”
There was a brief silence, then a roar of approval erupted from both groups.
Moments later, Melanthius sat stiffly in the booth of a bustling restaurant, his gaze flickering nervously between Yasmine and Mark seated across from him. Outside, the entire combined forces of the Atlanteans and the Blades and Blunts surrounded the building, their presence an almost comical display of loyalty that made Mel feel anything but at ease. He took a slow sip of his drink, trying to steady his nerves.
“So,” he began, his voice hesitant, “how do you know my father?”
Mark didn’t respond immediately, too busy tearing into a massive steak with wild enthusiasm. He ripped a chunk off with his teeth, chewing loudly before finally managing to answer. “We met your father a long time ago when he was 19. He was… really cool,” Mark said between bites, his tone reverent despite his savage eating habits. “He led us like a true captain.”
Mel’s eyes widened slightly, curious but also a bit thrown by the crude display.
Yasmine, meanwhile, looked absolutely scandalized. She grabbed the steak knife and jabbed it into Mark’s steak with a pointed glare. “How dare you devour your food like a wild animal in front of the young master?!” she snapped, shoving the offending steak further into his face.
Mark choked and gagged, coughing violently as he struggled to clear his throat. Mel instinctively leaned back in his seat, his drink frozen halfway to his lips.
“As I was saying,” Yasmine continued smoothly, ignoring Mark’s sputtering, “being a free wizard back then was incredibly rare. Your father was something special, a natural leader.” Her voice softened slightly, her eyes taking on a distant look as she remembered.
Mark finally recovered, clutching his throat and glaring at Yasmine, who simply waved him off.
Mel, meanwhile, flinched at their chaotic behavior. “This is who my father was leading?” he thought, casting a wary glance at the pair. “How did he ever manage to keep them under control?”
“I want you to know something,” Mel said, his tone steady but laced with a quiet intensity. Mark froze mid-choke, the steak still awkwardly hanging from his mouth. Yasmine paused as well, her expression sharpening as Mel continued.
“I absolutely hate my father.”
Mark and Yasmine exchanged a glance, both grunting softly in acknowledgment, their usual chaotic energy momentarily subdued.
“But…” Mel hesitated, gripping his glass tightly as he searched for the right words. “I found out from someone that he… changed, out of nowhere. Maybe I’ve been too hard on him, judging him without knowing the whole story. I mean, the entire world turned against him. His own son doing the same thing? That can’t be right… can it?”
Mark swallowed his steak—finally—and leaned forward slightly, his wild demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness. Yasmine nodded thoughtfully, her fingers tracing idle circles on the edge of her glass, as if even they hadn’t fully reconciled their memories of the man Mel was trying to understand.