Relato Corto Blog Fiction

A New Offspring


Wesley Noboa, an ambitious young man with hunger for power—heir to his late family’s fortune—choosed to go on a journey in search of the best martial arts teacher of his era. His path took him through the most dangerous corners of the land, places where he met formidable foes.

“Alex,” Wesley said once his satellite phone call was finally answered. “I just got to the place…but you won’t believe what I found. I mean…who builds a temple on the summit of a mountain?

“Alex… I need you to send me a helicopter.”

“Right away, Master Wesley,” Alex replied and began coordinating a helicopter in the middle of the Andes.

Short enough, Wesley saw other visitors beginning their hike up the stairs towards the temple. He checked his smartwatch to find out the weather’s forecast for the day.

If I stay here, Wesley thought, I’m going to need an umbrella.

Close to him, a man wearing a blanket passed by. Unlike the elegance of the tycoon, the man walked with wooden slippers. Gross! Wesley thought while he watched the stranger from the distance. How can he survive in this climate without a SouthArm?

SouthArm was the only clothing brand Wesley could wear without getting puffy.

What is going on with Alex? Wesley wondered, staring at the screen of his phone. Does he think I’m going to walk up that hill?

After a few minutes of impatience, the helicopter that Alex was able to hire finally arrived. However, Wesley didn’t look forward to the idea of boarding a commercial helicopter. I’m tired…he’s always doing this to me.

Nevertheless, Wesley climbed into the helicopter—making sure not to get dirt on his clothes. On arrival, he jumped off without a goodbye, before the helicopter could land.

Wesley walked looking straight forward, hoping no one had seen him get off that helicopter. After all, he had a reputation to look after.

Inside the temple he saw the master sitting on a throne, illuminated by the single ray of light that entered through a hole on the ceiling. Dozens of people showed their appreciation by meditating around him. Wesley walked through them all and spoke directly to their master.

“Are you the master of this temple?”

“The temple doesn’t need a master.”

“Yes, but you can teach me martial arts.”

“Learning is a personal process.”

“I’m willing to work for free if you take care of my training.”

“Very wellI then, I need a dozen black berries from the summit of that mountain. But son…don’t disturb the peace of this place with your machines.”

“At your command,” Wesley said, placing his palms next to each other in front of his chest and leaning forward towards the master.

Everyone present at the temple looked up and noticed the master returned to his meditation, and followed him.

Hours later, after being lost in the wilderness of the mountain, close to giving up from fatigue. Wesley came across a peculiar plant, the last rays of light illuminating its red fruits. This must be it. He took a dozen fruits and found his way back to the temple.

Tired and wet from the rain predicted by his watch he entered the temple but found it empty. He walked for a few minutes until he found the master sitting under a roof, enjoying the rain falling over the landscape.

Seeing the man with the white beard and broad forehead, Wesley was relieved. “Master,” he said as he approached, “I found the fruits you requested.”

“Thanks,” said the master extending his hand. He instantly noticed the fruits were poisonous and tossed them away.

“What would you like me to do now?”

“It’s one who must know what he has to do.”

“I want to become a martial arts master.”

“On the way to satisfy your desires you’ll find obstacles that will destroy you.”

“I’m willing to face them.”

The master looked the young apprentice up and down. Stubborn, thought the teacher. “If you cannot see beyond your limitations you are destined to live an endless cycle.”

“I think I’m ready to push my limits.”

“I have nothing to teach,” said the master and got up, turning to walk into his house.

Wesley followed closely to avoid being left outside in the cold Andean night. “Master, let me serve you and I’ll learn from your company.”

“If your desires are so strong, you will have to develop a new martial art.”

“Whatever,” Wesley said, watching the master walk right up to his weapon rack.

One by one the master studied the weapons displayed on his wall. Disregarding each of them after a short while. “The perfect weapon will be one that does your job in this temple,” he said and turned. “You wish to serve in exchange for power…you will have to make an art of your work.” With that the master placed his hand on a kitchen’s gas cylinder. “This will be your weapon. I need you to walk down to town with it and buy a full one before you come back.”

Thus began the story of the hero who has come to save us from all evils.

About the author

Sebastián Iturralde

Writer of enigmatic tales, weaving captivating narratives that provoke thought and stir the imagination. Unveiling the depths of human experience through words.


Relato Corto Blog Fiction

About Author

Sebastián Iturralde

Writer of enigmatic tales, weaving captivating narratives that provoke thought and stir the imagination. Unveiling the depths of human experience through words.