Ignite

  Ignite

  The Fireborn Chronicles Book I

  By

  Andre Pisco

  Ignite, The Fireborn Chronicles Book I © 2019 by Andre Pisco. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table Of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Chapter XXV

  Chapter XXVI

  Chapter XXVII

  Chapter XXVIII

  Prologue

  The world is no longer habitable. It has become an avalanche of problems, of which the solutions are too expensive. After the wars that led to the end of globalization, life became disastrous for those who lived in the old cities and graceful for those who had money or connections to gain access to the new technological cities.

  The cities that were once considered grandiose, filled with endless traffic and sunset terraces are now deserted; empty streets with no stories to tell, where the blood of those who venture alone is spilled. The buildings lost their color. Constant explosions and fights between guilds have become common, leading to the destruction of buildings’ foundations and the replacement of white facades by a red wine-colored goo.

  Naivety seized people. A simple chip with the goal of improving their lives reached the city - the greatest invention since electricity. The horror in the streets had become so frightening that the vast majority didn’t hesitate to get one for themselves. In exchange, they were offered a basket with food, plus the extra particulars that the little white chip, with a slight gray high in the center, offered. It was placed behind the neck and only offered to people over 15 years old.

  It caused discomfort at first, but over time, the body became accustomed to the presence of another host. It was possible to feel small filaments coming off the chip, increasing in size and spreading through the body until they became one. The first version of the chip offered several advantages that seemed too good to be true: it improved most people’s vision, cured some deadly diseases, and made the world an improved version making it look almost like a virtual game. It was possible to see each person's HP, as well as several features such as their attack and defense power.

  The years went by and the chip was getting updates that didn’t change its usefulness. There was no warning of when they would be, nor the side effects that were always a possibility. Different bodies reacted differently. Some accepted the changes perfectly - others writhed in pain, screaming for help and a few seconds of reprieve before they calmed down. Sometimes the body itself rejected the changes and the person bled until his or her body gave up. Death was inevitable in those situations.

  Dozens of years later, and after twenty-five updates, people's minds, as well as their fragile bodies, had shaped to the new chip. The world had transformed itself. The youngsters received their chip at the age of fifteen and people applauded them as if it represented their way out of the cocoon and into the real world. Every year a party was held to celebrate the event. The grandeur of the past was obliterated by the pretense of happiness surrounding the audience.

  However, no one knew what was coming. Forty years went by before there was any major development. On a foggy day, the possibility of being rewarded for their effort and dedication emerged in the lower right corner of people's eyes.

  "The world is about to change. Want to be part of the change?"

  Still, with memories of abandonment, the elders got ready to make the decision for themselves and the young people. Some said yes in a timid voice, trembling with fatigue, while those whose lives were at their peak repeated more than once, hoping their chances of a better life would gradually increase. The more suspicious were carried away by the wave of enthusiasm of the rest. Some people fell to the ground: white foam coming out of the corners of their mouths, while the small black dot in their eyes was replaced by a gray color as their face lost the pinkish color. The body twisted, but the lips remained glued together. The lack of knowledge about what was happening scared some people, who even tried to pull their chip forcefully.

  It was impossible.

  The chip was deeply embedded in the human physiology, to the point that the simple act of touching the docile skin where it had been placed caused agonizing pain. Without knowing it, the people had become slaves to their own desire for a better life. They were doomed to the rules that were imposed upon them. Life had changed, but the way they live had not.

  No one died. In fact, in the first few days, nothing happened. There were rumors of deception, a joke made by the creators of the chip, offering people the possibility of a better future, only to be able to burst out laughing due to the people’s blind trust. It was not yet known who they were, which caused a certain mysticism around them and their goals. The growing rumor was that the chips were made by gods, that it was their way of making the world a better place without needing to surface.

  Days later, the bodies suffered changes that nobody was prepared for. A step-in human evolution had been skipped. Some people believed the new things people could do were magic. Light coming out of people’s fists, voices strong enough to lift a car, waves created with fingers’ snap, everything seemed to be possible. However, not everyone was so lucky.

  After one week there were six recognized classes - warrior, shooter, wizard, healer, knight, and ninja. The choice was non-existent, as such options disappeared from existence when the chips had been placed.

  Each class had its difficulties. An intense search was made to decode how to take advantage of the other classes. The admiration of the novelty quickly dissipated, and cities became an arena for experiments and overwhelming struggles. Items, armor, and weapons were created, considering each class and specializations. Artists accepted freelance orders, creating unique and specialized weapons for each person.

  There was a black market for sellers of various types of weapons. From the usual and experienced gun experts to the citizen who used to sell arrows for target shooting but now saw an opportunity to become a valorous person. They got ready to set up a tent, longing for customers, but they didn’t expect the huge turnout they had. No one wanted to be left behind, helpless and ignorant. They bought a few items and weapons from mercenaries’ lootings which increased the deaths in the whole city. People would get killed just for a nice +10 attack ring.

  Years went by and little changed. The city remained at the same stage of struggle between unrestrained egos - blood became a daily part of city streets, just as death ceased to be a surprise or something to be feared. The people, from the powerless to those who had it, stopped seeing death as something horrible, but rather as a gift. A solution to their problems.

  However, some change
s came willingly. It turned out that beyond the mountains, which were both to the north and south of the city, there were cities of incalculable grandeur and state-of-the-art technology. Great news, were it not for the unavoidable addition that their access was controlled and available only to people endowed with wealth or considerable power. Happiness was short-lived, for most. Some, nevertheless, kept the dream of someday being able to have a place in one of these cities, away from the sickness that plagued the city where they lived.

  Not surprisingly, months later, when the opportunity arose to sign up for a tournament sponsored by one of these cities, most didn’t hesitate to apply their sons. The rules were simple - only people between eighteen and twenty-two could participate and the fighters who gave up or became unconscious were out of the tournament. The winner would be awarded an invitation to an academy outside the city while the rest could try again next year. It was promised maximum safety for the participants, as well as a new technology that prevented people from dying even if their HP reached zero.

  The people were surprised by the recent curiosity of a distant city. There was something behind this sudden interest, though no one knew specifically what. Tournaments were not something new in the city, as every day, in abandoned warehouses, the usual suspects met for another rematch. They were places where the rotten smell was a home for rats' nestlings, and where hope never had a chance. Gray walls, with broken pieces, and falling, metal facades, which had not been cleaned for years. Abandoned spaces, used to release the anger and despair that burned the bodies of the citizens.

  They bet money or items, and the fights only had one end: death. Giving up was shameful, and cause to never to set foot in the ring again. Those who lived in the surrounding areas suffered from the constant nocturnal noise - from the hustle and bustle of the public entering the warehouse until they left, the screams of support for their favorite, as well as the noise of the impact that each person made when they fell on the weak ring.

  Three years later, mistrust paid off. The technological city had hidden its true motive until the most opportune moment. After the end of the third tournament, when the mood was still exalted, and after delivering the trophy to the winner, they revealed that in the following year the tournament would be broadcasted around the world. They offered a nice explanation of everything that had happened, and what they had planned. They had the audience in the palm of their hands, and they took advantage of it, carefully choosing every eloquent word they used.

  The people let themselves go, like a flock led by their shepherd, without offering resistance. Technology city’s representatives explained that, after the technological blackout, only a few cities, which were already prepared for such an apocalyptic scenario, remained unharmed. They added, in non-technical language, that they had a shield that protected them from what affected the electricity, but that they didn’t have the conditions to recreate it. They further stated that the chip was gods’ first step on a long road of a thriving era and that they hoped to be accompanied on that journey. The people, deluded by the promise of a golden tomorrow, applauded effusively.

  Every year, different representatives of the technological city, between May and June, visited the city and prepared it for the tournament, which happened, as usual, in September. They spoke only when it was strictly necessary and kept themselves away from the people. In fact, they seemed even afraid to get closer to the men to whom they were so earnestly giving orders. There was a hint of arrogance, but it was not the main reason they kept their distance. They always had guards, most of the time two, around them. They feared that the disrespect they had for those who worked for them would unfold in a revenge whose powers would not be enough to resist.

  The winners never returned to the city. Rumors circulated about their achievements in a world that was unattainable to the vast majority and believing it was easier than doubting the last few years. The tournament had become the most anticipated event of the year. The city stopped to watch each match and, usually, supported both candidates. After all, they had both been known since childhood. The fighters struggled until sweat dripped down their faces, blocking their sight as their clothes glued onto their bodies. They ignored the pain, taking their bodies to the limit, to the breaking point, for a moment of glory and a future where they didn’t need to be constantly looking over their shoulder.

  The life-saving tournament became the city’s main attraction. Hundreds of thousands of people watched from the comfort of their home as others filled the arena. For two weeks, the city breathed deeply, and safely. Over the years, there had been several attempts to decimate the arena, which have been promptly eliminated, as have its persecutors.

  Chapter I

  The arena was filled for the final of the twenty-third tournament. The frenetic environment spread through the corridors. The shaking of the alcohol filled glasses, the chilling voices of the leaders of each cheerleading squad and the gentle tone of the host were usual presences.

  The final was about to start and the seats were already almost entirely occupied. The dazzling blue and purple lights, rounded the arena, offering the cameras an appraisable plan. Thousands of sweaty people leaned against each other, resembling small, trapped insects. The only difference is that the people did it for pleasure, for the happiness of seeing one of them have the chance for something better.

  The annual final was going to be played between Alec and Tommy, who were longtime friends, but opposites in classes. Alec, a promising wizard, wounded from the past, who was still learning to accept and master the fire in his veins, contrasted Tommy, the tall warrior with clenched fists and a yellow smile, who was cherished by all.

  Equipment or special items were prohibited during the tournament, to level the playing field and ensure that the champion won through their own strength.

  Alec

  Tommy

  Class: Wizard

  Class: Warrior

  Specialization: Fire

  Specialization: Electric

  HP: 200/200

  VS

  HP: 150/150

  Attack: 70

  Attack: 85

  Defense: 45

  Defense: 30

  Agility: 45

  Agility: 70

  Wisdom: 60

  Wisdom: 30

  The commentators kept repeating that it would be a memorable match. Two young men in their prime, both in their twenties, who knew each other's movements, and had a mutual desire to rise in life. Neither would walk away, let alone be subdued. The referee whistled, and the audience rose to applaud the beginning of the fight.

  "Are you ready to give them a show they won’t ever forget?" Tommy asked, opening his hand and motioning for Alec to approach him.

  "I hope you practiced a lot. I won’t be nice just because we’re friends,” Alec replied, smiling at him. It wasn’t happiness, but joy at being about to fight against one of his best friends, someone who always pushed him over his limits.

  "Didn’t you notice?" Tommy said, showing the bones between his red fingers, "I trained too much to lose"

  "So much training for nothing." Alec replied, "Show me what you got."

  "THEY TEASE EACH OTHER. THE FIGHT IS ABOUT TO GET INTERESTING" one of the commentators shouted.

  The fighters moved diagonally, looking for an opening in the opponent's defense. Their closed faces and slow, controlled breathing were signs of their focus on the fight. Tommy had a slight smile on the corner of his mouth, unlike Alec who kept his face serious.

  The effusive public shrieked, eager for the fight to begin. Rumors spread around the benches. Some said that the young people had spent the last month without speaking to each other, training only for this moment, while others said that the winner was already decided.

  Tommy stopped and placed his right foot in front of his left, gaining balance before firing like a bullet towards his rival, who was surprised by the speed of the attack. Alec didn’t have time to defend himself, or to divert, and was hit in th
e middle of his face. The bone marking on Tommy's hand marked Alec's face, which turned to a reddish color and distracted him long enough for Tommy to keep the pressure on him, and to attack him once again.

  "You're gone," Tommy shouted, "THUNDER-FIST," he shouted mercilessly.

  An effervescent light lit up his face, his left hand increased his attack to 100 and caught the spectators by surprise. They stood up and clapped, shouting Tommy's name as if he was already the yearly winner. The fight looked like it was going to have a quick end. Alec looked helpless, and Tommy was approaching him at a speed that made him almost imperceptible.

  As Tommy stretched his arm toward Alec's body, a huge explosion took place on the arena, spreading the ashes across the audience, making it impossible to see the stage, which was now surrounded by a brownish fog. Everyone had to wait until it dissipated. The public ignored the warnings to move away from the stage and forced their approach, some knocking others unceremoniously to the ground. The curiosity was greater than their own safety.

  After a few seconds of waiting, small gaps began to emerge in the fog. Time seemed to drag on in with doubt and enthusiasm. In the center of the arena was Tommy still with an outstretched arm, and Alec surrounded by orange-colored flames, which served as armor, and shielded him from his rival’s punch. The flames spread over Tommy's fragile, semi-nude body, and trapped him in an unboxed hell. Alec's attack increased 40 points, while Tommy's HP was falling. No matter how hard he tried to move - from kicks to punches, to blows, the fire was too strong. The more strength he used the more the fire around him increased. Alec was a few steps away. Sweat trickled down his forehead, but he didn’t even blink. He focused on his adversary, and the world around him ceased to exist.