• The planet is not Earth. It is not heavily populated. It is powerful. The human populations who exist here exist on one of several continents. All of the populations have learned dark secrets, known as Arts. Whether they were abilities lost or rediscovered is unsure. Certain people, known as Artists, have a specific, almost tattoo like, birthmark on their body. The Artists have an unnatural power over some or certain Arts, making them dangerous foes. There is a danger however. Should an Artist lose his or her birthmark, they risk being devoured by the Arts they so skillfully control.

    Chapter One
    The Introduction

    The street was covered in a downpour. In Storm City, that was the norm. The street was quiet, also as usual. Two people were walking down the street, both men, inches apart in height.
    “I hate the rain.” said the shorter of the two. His hair was long, pulled into a ponytail, and brown. He was wearing a set of glasses, a black shirt, black jeans, and carrying an umbrella.
    “Then why do we live here?” The taller one retorted. His hair was short, brown, and covering one eye. He wore a black shirt, a red and white design on it. His jeans were dark blue and tight.
    “Because it’s part of our name, remember?” The short one replied coolly. He moved a strand of his hair and the rain quit. The sky, however, remained dark. He turned and looked behind him. “I could have sworn we were being followed. Oh well.”
    The day continued uneventfully. Day became night and the two returned home. At the base of the stair case, the two noticed several things wrong. The first was silence. The house was usually noisy being located near a store. The second was someone sprinting at them.
    “You there, stop.” The taller one ordered the running person. They didn’t stop. The taller of the two held out his hand and the runner slammed into an invisible force with an audible thump.
    “Let him be Niko.” The shorter one said. “It’s a citizen.” The words had barely left his lips when the store erupted into flames.
    “Citizen my a**, Katsu.” Niko answered, pushing the person over with the unseen hand.
    “Let me have them.” Katsu set his umbrella down and casually walked to the scared man. “Hold still.” He touched the man’s face gently. In a matter of seconds, the man was convulsing.
    “Why didn’t you kill him outright Katsu?” Niko sighed. “You know we aren’t about torture.”
    “I was just trying to see what he had done.” Katsu shrugged. “But you are right to say torture isn’t our game. Look at the appalling way he twitches.”
    “Ugh.” Niko shook his head and stuck his hand out like a gun, two fingers making a barrel, thumb the hammer, the rest the butt of the gun. He made it kick and the man’s head blew off his body.
    “Oh, because that was so humane.” Katsu joked. “Anyway,” a small black cloud emerged from his mouth, “Art of the Damned, Lifeless Cloud.” The cloud extended over the lifeless body and then withdrew, leaving a decrepit skeleton behind. “Let’s go.” Katsu picked up his umbrella and walked off again, Niko following right behind him.



    Central City was facing a very large problem. That problem was a man named Belace. He had already leveled three law enforcement buildings and counting. Currently he walked down the street; the officers didn’t know he was blowing things up. Some guards, walked around the corner and they bumped into Belace. They recognized him almost immediately.
    “Uh oh.” Belace blinked. He was going to have to blow something, or someone, up.
    “Hey you, stop right there!” the first guard ordered.
    “How about no?” Belace snapped his fingers. A box engulfed the guards. “Now go boom.” He jumped back and swung his hand. The box detonated, killing the guards. A few remaining pieces littered the ground. “I wonder how noticeable that was?” he asked himself. More shouting came from somewhere nearby.
    Belace took off at a sprint, demolishing paths he saw guards coming down. He took to the roof tops and the enforcement followed him there. Finally, he took to back alleys. Belace hit a wall and was left with nowhere to run. The officers swarmed into the alley, muttering all sorts of things. “Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.”
    “Not quite yet.” Belace smiled. He inhaled deeply. “Art of the Known: Great Cannon!” The air around Belace rushed in, distorting vision. He exhaled and the air exploded out with a great force. Smoke rose above the walls of the city. Belace smiled like an idiot. “Five city blocks. That’s a new record…. I should probably get out of here….” He blasted a small hole in the wall and left Central City in semi ruins.


    Karraidin walked through the streets of the New Vatican. He enjoyed his service in the elite guard, but it was a pain to have to conceal his mark all the time. Artists, or those outside the ecclesiarch using the Arts, were killed upon discovery. He wondered how long he had until they discovered him.
    “Captain,” a simple soldier kneeled in front of Karraidin. “There have been incidents around the continent.”
    “Incidents?” Karraidin asked. “ What kind of incidents?”
    “Demolitions.” The soldier replied. “Central City was left in pieces, all thanks to one man and Storm City has been attacked. Targets have been major buildings in the cities.”
    “Anything else?” Karraidin questioned further.
    “Artists are other targets.” The soldier answered and then left with a nod.
    Karraidin began running this new information through his head. The targets were both major and seemingly random. If Artists were targets, the New Vatican would support them. Though he hated the idea, he would have to stop the incidents. If he didn’t, it may lead to his discovery. Either way it would mean he would have to kill his own men.
    A few hours later he had made his decision and gathered his will. Anyone who tried to stop him would die. Fortunately no one tried to stop him in the city. When he tried to go out of the city, however, the gatekeepers stopped him.
    “Karraidin, what are you doing? You know you can’t leave the city without a pass.” The first of two keepers stepped forward.
    “Maybe he’s just checking up on us.” The other keeper said. “You know how he is.”
    “No your superior is right, “ Karraidin informed the second keeper, “ I am leaving.” He crossed himself and the two guards were split, one vertically and the other across the chest. “May the Vatican forgive me” Karraidin prayed. He started off, deciding on where to go first, leaving the bodies. Although they remained lifeless, the wounds began to heal, becoming complete sections of the bodies they once belonged to.