My name is Lawrence Gale, son of Frederic Gale. I was born just a few hours before my twin brother, Warren Gale in the Great Holy Empire of Bosco year 278. Like any other, I cannot recall any memories of my infantile years but it should not be hard to imagine an adorable baby boy with brilliant blond hair and electric blue eyes crawling about.

My earliest recollection starts at the young age of three. Right after getting myself comfortable with running, my father started to train me. No, to train the both of us.. I and my younger brother Warren. He took us away from my loving mother and brought us to a secluded mountain.

Frederic Gale according to my memories was a stern and pious man. Being one of the Legendary individuals of his generation as well as the survivor of the 107th Demon King's purge, he was extremely strong. He was also prone to distance himself from society, preferring to live far away from civilisation. He believed mingling with others would lead him to corruption.

The first thing he taught us was the way to wield a sword. Oh no, not those light wooden swords but real, heavy and sharp steel ones. I and my brother swung it again and again... how many times? I could not say. It was as if we have given ourselves up to some sort of madness, there was no purpose to what we did. We were simply... absorbed.

The sword never left our bodies. When we could not swing, we simply held it. If we could not even do that, we placed it on our chests as we slept. It eventually came to a point where we dreamt of nothing but the sword.

Not a single day went by without father working us to near death, and by nightfall he would indoctrinate us with the teachings of the Sacred White Lion. As a good and obedient child, I listened and believed in everything he taught. My brother, however, was not the slightest bit interested. As a result, he would often get punished by our father.

Not even learning how to read or write, not knowing any common sense, the sword and religion were all he taught us. What did I gain from this? Strength, power, agility, technique, faith, discipline. What did my brother gain? I do not know, but I suppose it is more or less of what I have acquired.

It was always me that had the upper hand, whether it be the first to master a technique or being the victor of our sparring sessions. I truly admire Warren, despite all his losses he earnestly kept trying to surpass me. I would often catch sight of him training himself in the early hours of the morning, without being instructed to. A shame he was not as enthusiastic to listen about the White Lion.

His efforts were crushed however, when we were seven years old. Abilities manifest themselves in individuals at different points in time, some are exhibited at birth while there are some which appear just before the moment of death. Thankfully, mine bloomed when I was seven.

It was a very unique ability, one which had been thought to be a myth. It is so rare that no official records of it exist on Armus, although there are some mentions of it in folktales. Whether they are based on true stories or completely made-up, I do not know.

My ability is to control lightning, it is called Electrokinesis. I only found out the name when I was older and literate after using the Glyph of Evaluation for the first time. Back to the previous point, unlike what you may be thinking of... I could not generate lightning, but only control it.

That would make my ability a very conditional one, does it not? No, believe it or not, a little bit of lightning exists in everything. Well, calling it lightning is a bit of an overstatement.. they are more like.. millions of tiny lightning particles. That is the best analogy I could give, I myself never fully understood it.

I am able to move these particles, and when I pull them away from a specific object a small scale lightning bolt would hit it. I do not know why the lightning would strike a place I move it away from, but that is just how things work. I was never as inquisitive as my brother, but I am sure the Sacred White Lion played a hand behind this.

Another thing about my ability is that its strength depends on the weather, yes the weather. On cold and dry days, the lightning shocks would be stronger but on warm and humid ones they are weaker. I am the strongest when there is a thunderstorm. It was pleasantly surprising for me to find out one day that I could control the flow of lightning bolts. Being the child I was, I obviously played around with them like they were toys.

Again and again I made the lightning strike different points on the mountain. Warren would only stare at what I was doing right beside me with his mouth wide open. What he was thinking about, I do not know but perhaps he was fascinated by the show.

My father was delighted by my ability, he called me a godsent child and treated me better. I had always been a little bit more talented than Warren. Not to say Warren was not talented, but he was just slightly less gifted. My ability widened the gap between us even more.

Father gave me preferential treatment, from small things like bigger portions of food compared to Warren to more serious matters such as the increased amount of attention he gave me while training. It was as if he had given up on Warren, treating him like an inferior product.

Warren never hated me for it, instead he tried even harder to surpass me. I once spotted him raising his hands up at the air with veins popping up on his forehead during a thunderstorm. I believe he was trying to imitate me, but to no avail. It pained my heart seeing him trying so hard but what could I do? The Sacred White Lion did not bestow the same gift upon him no matter how much I prayed.

He soon gave up on his vain attempt at copying me, much to my relief. He chose another path instead, to learn Magic and control the forces of nature. He knelt on the ground and prostrated himself before my father, asking to be taught Magic. Father eyed him with scorn and scolded him for not having any dedication to the sword.

I took pity on my brother and joined him to beg father. However, the results were not what I desired. Instead of teaching Warren, father decided to only teach me Magic alongside swordsmanship. Warren was told to continue practicing the sword until he reached my level. I could never forget the sorrowful expression Warren displayed on that day.

But still, Warren did not resent me. However, there was a drastic change in Warren since then. For some unknown reason, he had a perpetual grin plastered on his face. I feared that he was broken, but our conversations together have proven otherwise. No matter how much he was scolded, the grin never left his face. At first it was weird but eventually it looked so natural. Whether I have become accustomed to it or he had gotten better at smiling, I could not tell.

Soon after I began training Magic, I would always share what I have learnt with Warren. I remember how bright his eyes were when he listened to me attentively. Apparently, Warren was slightly more gifted with the arcane arts than I was. Water magic in particular, was his specialty. It was a happy occasion indeed for him to finally overtake me at something. I too, shared his joy. For once, I could believe in the sincerity of his expression.

That was still not enough for him to beat me in our sparring sessions, though. Father did not say anything when he saw Warren using magic, perhaps he did not even care. Try as he might, whether the matches be pure swordsmanship or free combat, he could never beat me. After all, what could possibly be faster than lightning? It goes without saying that we did not use our full power to avoid killing each other.

Warren would continue to train when I was asleep. Up to this day, I have never met anyone who is more hardworking than him. If the White Lion had given him a gift, it would be his inhuman determination. Even so, why could he never beat me? I began to suspect that his problem was psychological in nature. He was unconsciously limiting himself from surpassing me.

When we were eight years old, we reached Intermediate-rank in swordsmanship. We did not use any Glyph, father just evaluated us on his own. Warren achieved the same level just a day after I did. Coincidence? No. My suspicions were spot-on, he really was holding himself back without being conscious about it. I wanted to help him break free from the constraints of his own mind, but I did not even know from where to start or what to do.

One fine morning, our father gave each of us our first task, to kill an ogre. I have seen those creatures called 'ogres' before around the foot of the mountains. The shortest among them stood at a height of 15 feet, the tallest was probably 20 feet. They seemed to possess tremendous strength but not too much in terms of intelligence.

To kill a creature that could uproot trees for sport, a creature that could stomp us flat and not be conscious of it.... that was a very perilous task indeed.

Close Combat levels only reflect the user's familiarity with the corresponding weapon, not their physical strength. Since we were cut off from society, I had no benchmark to compare my body capabilities with. I was afraid, but the fear was blown away as I realised that the Sacred White Lion would surely protect me.

Whether my brother was scared or not, it was impossible to tell over his unchanging expression. Nevertheless, we accepted the task and moved separately to hunt the ogres. I was quite worried about Warren so I offered silent prayers to the White Lion for his protection.

I chose to go down the West side while Warren went down the East side. It did not take more than a few hours walking under the canopy of trees to spot the Ogres. They were doing a variety of ogre-ish activities in a clearing. The stirred soil suggested that the clearing was not naturally made. Some were pulling up young trees and waved them about, possibly to test their potential as clubs. A few were chasing each other, shaking the earth with each step they took, probably playing a game.

They did not notice me as I hid myself behind a thick tree trunk. I would occasionally poke my head to the side and sneaked a peek at the Ogres. Each time I did so, my resolution faltered. It was not because of fear, but guilt.

'These creatures, they are living in peace and harmony... they are not harming anyone, why should I kill them?'

As I kept on pondering about the matter, an ogre wandered off from the group towards me. I do not think he realised my presence, but he was quite interested in the tree which was hiding me. It reached out its thick, gigantic arm and firmly grasped the center of the tree trunk, a few inches from crushing my head. The wood creaked as if it was agonized by the pressure exerted upon it.

With little to no effort, the roots which were firmly planted beneath the ground started to emerge to the surface as the ogre pulled the tree. Startled and scared, I moved from my hiding spot hoping it would not see me. Luck was not on my side that day, the ogre froze and shifted his eyes to gaze directly at me.

My heart beat increased in speed and loudness and reached a point where it was similar to an orcish war drum. Nervous sweat slid off my forehead as I stood motionless. I slowly moved my hand towards my sword and touched it. As I did so, the ogre bared his fangs and growled menacingly.

I let go of the hilt in response and it stopped snarling and continued to eye me curiously. After a few short minutes that felt like long years, it finally lost interest and resumed uprooting the tree.

I took a silent step backwards, making sure the Ogre had really ignored me. It did not even turned its head to look at me, it was so fixated on its new wooden toy. The innocent shine in its eyes added with a mirthful smile on its mouth made it look like an overgrown child.

'I could not kill this creature' such is what I have decided at the time.

The White Lion forgive me for disobeying my parent's orders, but I really could not bring myself to kill a fellow harmless creature. And so I left the ogres untouched and made my way back to my father.

When I came back, the first thing I saw was my father standing straight with his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but I braved myself to answer for my transgressions.

"You did not kill an Ogre, did you?" is what he said as I looked at his face from below.

"No" squeaked out of my mouth as I answered timidly.

"Good" a smile cracked open my father's hard face.

A surprising reply indeed. Since when did going against your parents counted as a good deed?

"You've proven yourself to have understood the value of compassion, to disobey an order unworthy of the Sacred White Lion's teachings"

So it dawned upon me that it was a hidden test, one cleverly devised to test my faith. My endless gratitude goes towards the White Lion for showing me the right path.

However, I was worried about Warren who had still not arrived. Could he have been harmed?

"Wait for your little brother, let us see his results" my father said as if he had read my thoughts.

I believed in Warren and kept praying for his success as I nervously paced back and forth. Okay, I did not actually put too much trust in him but at least I tried.

The sun had almost slid down the horizon, threatening to bring down a curtain of darkness upon the sky and Warren had yet to return. The dark clouds above told us of an incoming downpour. I began to worry so I asked for permission to search for my brother.

My father shook his head and pointed out behind me, deep into the trees. The corners of his mouth curves downwards, showing a dismayed expression.

I turned around and squinted hard at the direction he pointed at but did not see anything. It took a full five minutes before I finally spotted something, because Warren had walked closer to us.

Then I understood my father's disappointed look. A steady trickle of blood flowed down my brother's left arm, painting the grass a darker shade as he walked by. The grass was stained a deep red not only by his blood but also by the object he was dragging along.

A bunch of thick, black hair is clenched within my brother's unbroken right fist. The hair trailed behind him and pulled on the severed head of its owner.

Without a doubt, he had slayed an Ogre. The combination of frozen fear imprinted upon the Ogre's saucer like eyes and Warren's bloodstained grin made me shiver in trepidation. Warren, what have you done?

He proudly presented the Ogre's head to father, holding it upright in front of him. What came next was harsh, even by father's usual standards.

Father slapped him hard, causing him to release his grip on the head and fall down on all fours. For a moment, his grin was replaced by an expression of shock and confusion. It did not last long however, as it reverted back to that eerie smile. Just what was going on in your head, Warren?

"Why?"

He asked with a voice that seemed to have crawled out from the deepest chasm of despair, betraying the bright countenance he put on. He slowly reached his right hand towards the head, intent on showing it again to father.

"DON'T TOUCH THAT!"

Frederic Gale roared, sharply cutting through the silence of the night. Warren froze and slowly twisted his head to look at father. The first drops of rain fell from the sky and wet the soil.

"YOU HAVE NOT LEARNT ANYTHING FROM ME! BEGONE!" having yelled that, father turned around and stomped his way into our small hut. Warren was left with me outside in the rain.

He stared emptily at the ogre's head on the ground beside him while cradling his bloody arm. The raindrops turned dark and murky as it slid over the dried blood on Warren. From the twisted looks of his hand, it must have been broken by a strong impact.

It might have been just the rain, but I saw two streams of water dribbling down his eyes. He painfully stood up and turned around. He started to move, the mud staining his shoes with each step he took. Every second brought him farther away. Away from me, away from father, away from rejection.

I had a strong feeling that I would never see my brother again if I did not chase him now. So I ran to catch up with him, much to his surprise. I lightly touched his shoulder and told him I would accompany him, wherever he wanted to go.

Father, you have taught me the value of compassion. To disobey your orders and follow my heart. At that moment, I applied your teachings. I wanted to take care of my little brother and guide him.

Nodding gratefully, he accepted my offer. We trudged through the forest under the heavy rain as we descended the mountain, away from our father. Father did not come to bring us back, perhaps he did not care anymore.

Since that day, we traveled together across the continent. We picked up on how to read and write along the way as we stopped by here and there. For some reason, Warren decided that both of us should not appear at the same time in front of people.

So nobody knew of the existence of the two of us, believing we were one person. Together, we called our new identity Gale Tempest. Delivering justice and accomplishing great feats everywhere we go, we soon came to be well-known. Gale Tempest was also easily identifiable by his frequent drastic mood swings which might have been referring to the eternal grin on Warren when it was his turn and my normal expressions on other days.

Warren would always jot down our adventures in a book, saying he wanted to publish it one day so the people of the world would know what we have done. It was a wonderful idea but I could not contribute much due to my poor literary skills. I could not tell from looking at his mouth, but the twinkle in his eyes told me he was truly happy.

Over the course of time, our sword swings became heavier, our movements got swifter, our techniques flowed smoother and our magic grew stronger. Our prowess steadily grew as we journeyed all over the Western Continent.

In eleven years, we reached the rank of Legendary in swordsmanship. It was extremely fast, too fast for anyone to have reached that level at the age of nineteen. Perhaps it was because of the combination of our talent and harsh upbringing that we achieved this.

Having reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship, we sought out weapons that would fit ourselves. It was not that hard to find the possible locations of legendary weapons, they are usually hidden away in the most difficult of dungeons.

It just so happens that the continent had one of those, it was called 'The Palace of Shadows'. Legends say of a kingdom which had been prosperous over two thousand years ago.

A wise king, strong military prowess, loyal subjects. It had all the components of a successful kingdom at its peak. Their artisans were so advanced that they were able to mass produce weapons of great caliber. The best creation of their blacksmiths was the twin swords of storm. How convenient for them to perfectly suit us.

The ancient records spoke of the legendary blades. One of them was a bronze coloured sword called Lightning. The other one was a silver sword with a bluish tinge to it, called Squall. Personally I liked the straightforward naming sense the blacksmiths had. At least they did not decide to name the weapons over some heathen Gods like many others.

However, nothing is eternal except for the Sacred White Lion. As generations of peace and harmony passed them by, the kingdom slowly deteriorated as corruption takes root. The royalty, the nobles, the subjects, they were all consumed by greed.

A wanderer, claiming to have come from the hidden continent of the South sought an audience with the King. He spun many wondrous tales of riches and power that his kingdom possessed, enticing the sovereign. Of course, there was never any continent to the South but before the great explorer Inanis discovered the edge of the world the fact was not confirmed.

The King, blinded by greed immediately tried to issue an order to conquer the Southern continent. He was stopped by the wanderer before he could do so. The wanderer begged him to stop and bargained with the monarch to divulge the secrets of the South in return for not attacking his beloved home.

The King complied, not out of compassion but because he did not want to unnecessarily waste any troops. So he listened to the wanderer who told him of a sacred ritual that would grant him immortality and wealth, just like the ruler of the South.

And so by royal decree, all the magicians of the kingdom were summoned to the palace to conduct the ritual. The wanderer stabbed himself and drew a Magic Diagram with his own blood, one that would serve to bestow immortality and untold powers to the King.

The amount of blood lost by the wanderer was no joke, his death was inevitably approaching. Did the King care? No, he proceeded on with the ritual as he stood in the center of the Magic Diagram. The magicians eyed the monarch with envy as they channel their mana into the diagram, wishing for immortality themselves.

Dark wisps of shadow were emitted by the bloody diagram, and slowly encircles the King. The sovereign smiled with glee, imagining the eternal life to come.

The darkness engulfed him and he screamed in agony. His flesh, his skin, everything except his bones were eaten away. The magicians tried to stop the ritual but their mana were being absorbed by the diagram, steadily feeding it with more power.

The shadow expanded and spread out to the surroundings, consuming every living being within its path. For each life it took, it grew larger and thicker. Within a single day, the lives of every single person in the Kingdom were devoured by the swirling darkness.

The phantom mist glided back towards its origin, the palace, and seeped into the body of the dead wanderer. Wreathed in shadows and growing a pair of black wings, the wanderer revived himself as the first Demon King.

He stared upon the remains of the humans, laughing coldly in cruel mirth. How could he not be delighted? The fool believed him so easily and unwittingly sacrificed his own kingdom. However, his cruelest act had yet to be done. Using a portion of his newly gained power, he returned the souls of those that were present in the palace and trapped them within their skeletal bodies.

The dusty bones began to stir and the King was brought back to life. He stared at his body through his eyeless sockets and then looked at the chuckling wanderer. He wanted to scream, to release his immeasurable hate but he could not. He had nothing left, not even his vocal chord, just bones and the immortality he sought.

The magicians, the knights, whoever it was that had been in the palace were sentenced to a fate worse than death. With great rage they attempted to kill the Demon King but it only amounted to an attempt. They were effortlessly swatted away.

The Demon King unfolded his wings and took flight to the moonlit skies above. Gathering his mana in both of his hands, he cast another curse upon the skeletons, binding their souls to the palace but that was not the end of it. He collected his mana once more, and fired off a large scale Legendary class Earth Magic 'Earthquake'. Violent tremors assaulted the palace as the very ground that served as its foundation was shaken mercilessly.

The earth beneath the palace groaned in anguish as it was teared away from the neighboring soil. Gigantic cracks crawled over the ground, separating the palace from the rest of the kingdom. Finally, the palace began to sink deep into the bottomless chasm of the earth, sealing away the cursed ones from ever seeing the light of day again.

The Demon King left and flew away from the kingdom. Why did he not take the legendary swords? Simple, he had no need for them.

The entrance to the Palace of Shadows had always been open over the past two millennia. Who could have missed out the gaping hole in the middle of a ruined kingdom?

Many have attempted to retrieve the treasures hidden within its unfathomable depths. Countless armies and adventurers had given it a try, but none managed to return from within.

We, Gale Tempest, were intent on breaking the streak of failures. So we dived into the dungeon while holding a light ball in our hands, fearing nothing and no one. I lost count of how many times I prayed the night before.

Our clothes flapped aggressively upwards from the air resistance we received. After a good ten seconds, the bottom of the pit was no where in sight. I turned my head to look at my brother. What would you feel if you saw a face exactly identical to yours dimly lighted from below while being surrounded by pitch black darkness?

Yes, me too. I really wished he would drop that smiling mask of his.

After falling for nearly thirty seconds, we finally saw tiled roofs beneath us. Employing Wind Magic to slow down our fall, we softly landed upon the building. Unfortunately, the roof caved in from our weight due to its ancient age.

Righting ourselves up, we found ourselves within the throne room surrounded by skeletal guards, magicians and the King. Yes, we landed right inside the boss room on our first try, how lucky of us.

The Skeleton King leaned forward in an interested manner and drummed his bony fingers on the moldy arms of his throne. Countless glows of varying colours began to emit from the surrounding undead magicians as they channel their mana. A simultaneous metallic friction resounded throughout the room when the skeleton knights unsheathed their antique yet deadly swords.

What choice did we have? We fought.

The skeletons were no joke, they were strong and undying. Needless to say my lightning was useless on their dusty bones, but at least they had physical bodies to be cut up. We crushed, sliced and blasted the bony warriors into fine dust but their bodies continued to reassemble themselves whole.

As powerful as we were, they could not deal any damage to us. However, the constant rain of spells and weapons aimed at us would surely wear us down sooner or later. After a few moments of deliberation, we decided to bolt.

Before we could initiate our plan, a tall armoured skeleton walked into the throne room through the rotten doors, wielding the twin blades of storm. Faced with our objective, we deviated from our previous decision. Handling the swords, it summoned forth lightning and torrents of water with each skillful swing. From its movements, it was clear that the skeleton had been a swordsman of great caliber when it had been alive.

Fountains of water deluged the throne room, completely submerging the interior and turning it into an aquatic environment. The surrounding skeletons barely flinched, their lack of any breathing apparatus eliminates any fear of suffocation. Completely immersed in water, we were perfectly vulnerable to the lightning currents spewing forth from the bronze coloured blade.

Perhaps I would have been defeated if I were alone, but with both of us combined, we were invincible. I harmlessly redirected the lightning away and Warren split open the raging waters, clearing a path. Together, we charged towards it like gusts of wind and sliced off its bony arms. Grabbing Lightning and Squall respectively, we fled.

We ran up the earthen walls of the chasm, evading and outrunning the accursed dead behind us. Our ascent was faster than our descent, thanks to our inhumanly strong legs. It took less than half a minute for us to jump out of the crater and landed at its edge. Together, we held Lightning and Squall respectively under the light of the morning sun, gazing at their unearthly radiance.

And that was our greatest achievement which are still sung by bards up to this day.

The Glyph of Evaluation gave me the title of Lightning Knight and Warren the Squall Knight. Together we were Gale Tempest, the Storm Knight, strongest swordsman under the heavens.

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There shall be three releases for this batch, part 2 of the story behind the Gale brothers would be uploaded in two days. Yeah, no Chase for a while.

Some science fact:

Lawrence Gale talked about lightning particles in this part of the chapter. Actually, they are electrons but of course he did not know the proper name for them. His ability is actually controlling the flow of electrons.

What he referred to as 'objects getting shocked as he pulled away the lightning particles from them' is a reference to static electricity. The 'lightning particles' he pulled away are the negatively charged electrons within the object, causing the target to be shocked by the jumping electrons.

Of course, the ability itself is just pseudo-science. :wozy:

But you know, I thought it should have a shred of logical explanation to it! :mowahaha:

Has Chase in it Armus My Death

For The Curious Mind