Ramsey Sharon - More Than Enough: The Ten Keys to Changing Your Financial Destiny

The Third Key

GUARDING THE LIGHT SERIES

Book 1.

Copyright 2012 V. K. Ramsey

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to all those who follow, protect and cherish principles of Light. You and your deeds are very important. I owe you so much. Geoff, special thanks go to you. Without your support I would never dare to publish my stories.

V.K. Ramsey th of February 2011

Govardhan , Mathura, India

Table of Contest:

Preface

You cant blame the blade, you cant consider it accountable its all about the attentions of the person behind it.

Jason observed his students performing the hardest part of their training. In the last few months, they had worked hard at mastering the skills of a close range fi ght against multiple attackers. Now the time had come to put their training to the test. These few selected students in his Warrior Academy worked hard to apply all that he had taught them.

Michael, Jan and the others knew they were more than privileged; the methods and fighting skills given to them were entirely different from anything they had seen. By now, their hearts had entirely identified with the teachings about Light that Jason presented with his every step, and subtly, their moral and sp iritual values had followed suit . But despite all the training time they had spent together, the Warriors really did not know who Jason was, and how soon he would need them for the fight of his life.

Many times they felt as if they had entered into a comic book world scenes such as breaking stone blocks, a baseball bat or a 3-inch metal rod by the simple touch of Jasons palm now became a part of their reality. Jason was not only the living example of martial art perfection, but he was willing to train them! All of them had tested several martial arts schools and styles, but had gotten frustrated at the limiting rules and concepts that failed in real situations. Jasons teaching didnt hold a trace of the choreography that they had found elsewhere. Kill or be killed disarm or be harmed. The Warrior Academy students were gradually fine-tuned into nearly flawless warriors who could instantly kill or disarm multiple opponents if they had identified with forces of Darkness, they would have become skilled assassins. That was achieved by hard training on the part of both student and teacher Jason had barred every potential student who seemed to show any demonic traits.

Four students, wearing full sets of neoprene protective gear and using real weapons, were attacking Michael with full power. That way, they could practice the real extent of their skills. Protective shock-absorbent layers, specially made for this purpose, successfully deflected all the punches, kicks and * blows. There were no rules, no cage and no tatami only reality.

With two minutes left of the ten-minute attack sequence, Jason cou ld see Michaels energy waning. The attackers were also shaken from the blows and throws received. Jason could see a few moves ahead. He saw Michael taking a bad position that quickly turned into a serious injury, and knew this had to be the last moment of practice.

Enough! The power of Jasons voice stopped them immediately. Michael had just applied a solid wristlock and was finishing the attacker on the ground. All eyes were raised, looking at him through the protective masks, their faces dripping with sweat. Jason took over and showed them the danger of being on an open side as a demonstration, he took Michaels position and took out all of the attackers within seconds.

As they headed off toward the showers, Jason looked around the Warrior Academy. He and Gunnar had found this building, labored over every piece of equipment, whittled down their list to suitable students, and trained men to engage with evil. No training would be wasted, but he wondered sometimes how would they use it for more than training some day?

Quabil opened his eyes with difficulty. Nothing around him looked familiar. The pain of his broken arms and ribs was stunning - despite his trained mind, Quabil struggled to remain conscious. The last thing he remembered was total defeat and the bitter taste of sand in his mouth.

What is this place? Am I dead or living? He realized the absurdity of this question of course he was alive! Who saved me? Am I saved? Hundreds of similar thoughts flashed through his mind; the lack of answers kept him awake.

Blinking hard, he stopped questioning and looked around. His naked body, covered in bruises, was chained to a metal table. Every time he moved, he discovered another injury. Green light beams pointed at his body from several places, pulsing in perfect rhythm with his heartbeats. Quabil soon realized that his pain was slowly ebbing, and he understood that he was being healed by technology never seen by humans, though healing was taking the place of pain much slower than he wanted. To distract himself, Quabil called to mind the most enjoyable moments of his life.

He enjoyed a stream of violent scenes. Torturing cats, birds and dogs became as boring in his early years as bullying schoolmates. He clearly remembered his expanding expertise in the hobby of physical abuse, and his followers who eagerly helped him. He took shelter in remembering all the pain, sorrow and fear in the eyes of the victims that he and his followers caused. As a son of the powerful Shahzad dynasty, he managed to avoid the law even for the cruelest deeds. In Somalia, people were normally sentenced to death for actions similar to Quabils normal weekend entertainment with his crew. Remembering those good days kept him alive. The sounds of begging for mercy, from all the girls they gang raped without mercy, was like a sweet balm for his soul. It helped ease the lingering pain of his defeat he had never met a Guardian before who had destroyed him so completely.

His real soul food, what he really fed on, was that particular moment of helplessness and fear before the death of his victims. That made him feel in absolute control and dominance, and he hunted that black nectar all his life. The demonic nature of his was strong even for his sociopath friends, and they mostly went along with him for fear of wh at he would come up with next. Quabil went on to explore the magical black arts, its demonic rituals and practices, until he became a skilled practitioner.

Recalling the darkness of his life, and how he was finally taken to the lower dimensions by demonic forces, his memories unwound to the moment when he proved to be the best candidate within the Demonic Alliance. Training with them strengthened his powerful ability to enjoy death and pain, and his appetite grew while performing the most horrific acts. He was introduced to the Inner Darkness, powers that made any Black Wizard on planet Earth tremble in awe and reverence. Despite the bodily pain still present, now he felt extremely good, as if he were engaging in his most beloved pastimes. But there was another reason for his excitement:

Though I was defeated, I am saved by my all-powerful masters of this Universe. This is surely a place for healing. If my Masters saved me, they have good reason for it. That tells me only one thing: soon I will be more powerful then ever before.

His eyes half-lidded, Quabil stared at the ceiling and imagined what he could do after a full recovery. The green lights pulsed on in the dead .

Its a New (Ordinary?) Day

I.

A f amiliar melody brought him back from the pleasant but somewhat unusual dream. Perhaps that was the only warning he would get, but he never could have imagine d the upcoming events of this day. At 6:00 a.m., one of his favorite alert melodies ('Hallelujah') played from his iPhone. Opening his eyes slowly, he looked out the window. The s oft light of the early morning sun was reflected all over the grass, trees and courtyard. Everything he could see from his bed , even the heavy punching bag , looked as if it were covered with thousands of shiny pearls . Fresh air carryi ng the smell of autumn filled the room.