Overpowered (Spellbinders, 3, Band 3) - Hardcover

Buch 3 von 3: Spellbinders

Auseon, Andrew

 
9780593813393: Overpowered (Spellbinders, 3, Band 3)
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0593813391 ISBN 13: 9780593813393
Verlag: Labyrinth Road, 2025

Inhaltsangabe

Rewrite the rules of the game in the next installment of this hilarious and epic illustrated series about a middle schooler whose gaming fantasies become his reality.

"My favorite new fantasy series.”
—Max Brallier, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Last Kids on Earth series

After the universe-altering events of his last adventure, Ben Whitlock is trapped in an endless magical nap, and nobody across the realms knows how to wake him. But that won’t keep his loyal quest party from trying their hardest. Merv searches the seemingly endless House of Reflection for a cure, while Niara, Agnes and Drake return to Lux, where it all began, to find answers from their ultimate enemy (although they have so many these days, it's hard to keep track).

Meanwhile, Ben is stuck with the Spellbinder who first got him into this mess in a mind-bending dream world...and it appears his mind is the one that's bent. Can he escape before it finally breaks? Fighting their way back to one another, the party must face their greatest desires and their greatest fears. But when you play with magic, the rules are always being rewritten...and nothing is as it seems.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Andrew Auseon is the author of several books for children and young adults, and he is the writer of numerous bestselling and award-winning video games. A transplant from the Midwest, he lives in Washington, D.C. with his family and two very naughty cats. He loves breakfast cereal, the sound of the ocean, and the feeling of a brand-new book in his hands.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

1

Dream Level I

“HUZZAH!”

Ben slashed at the shambling ogres as claws of lightning cascaded through the storm behind him.

“PREPARE TO MEET MR. NASTY PANTS!”

He swung his mighty sword, and thunder rolled.

“High up on the broken remains of the watchtower, the arch sorcerer gazed down at the fiery battlefield, and he watched with mounting dread as the armies of the Underlands marched ever closer. He spotted giants, ghouls, and fiends of the wilderness among their growing numbers. They reached the base of the barricade and beat against its mossy stones, crying out in a chorus of hunger and rage. They would keep coming from dawn to dusk until the wall was breached, and then they would keep coming, endlessly, until the kingdom had fallen and its people had surrendered to their despair.

“And as usual, Ben Whitlock was the last thing standing before the forces of evil and utter destruction.”

No, that wasn’t right. . . .

The booming voiceover narration paused, its echo hanging awkwardly in the thick, smoky air.

He could do better.

“As it was in the beginning, it would be in the end: Ben Whitlock, savior of the wastes, was civilization’s last hope.”

It was an improvement, sure, but something still seemed a little, well . . . braggy. Ben struck a heroic pose with a sword in one hand and the Gauntlet of Fury strapped onto the opposing wrist; this mythical piece of armor gave him the power to “punch with the fury of a thousand punches,” which didn’t make a lot of sense, but as with most things in the fantasy world, it sounded cool enough for him not to care.

“Ben Whitlock, the long-lost prince and totally ripped barbarian from the snowy canyons of waste, faced his final battle.”

It was almost too easy.

The Last Watch

The only remaining fortress of the Order of the Night Brothers, this ancient ruin stands vigil over the salty seas of the Influenza Coast. It is home to a towering signal fire used to summon neighboring kingdoms in times of great trouble, or to make really big shadow puppets. Rent: 400 gold coins. Call: 325-VIGIL. Ask for Terry.

FEATURES

• Weekly feasts, bottomless ale

• Hosts the spirits of many legendary warriors, including Mel the Magnificent (yes, that Mel the Magnificent)

• Farts allowed

Sighing, he stepped down from the overlook, annoyed at his tendency to revise as he wrote. Was this really his final battle? Every fight couldn’t be the last one. Not if he wanted to continue the adventure afterward. Of course, he could always switch characters; maybe to the part-man, part-machine secret agent in the futuristic cyber city; or Brother Sebastian Awesomesauce, the fifteenth-century monk who was trying to solve a murder in a monastery where everybody had taken a vow of silence. The possibilities were endless. Half the fun of role playing was ditching an unfinished character and starting a new one from scratch.

This was what he’d always imagined--to be the hero at the center of every story.

“Watch out,” said a voice behind him. “You’ve got some berserkers coming up on your left. Ogres, right? Nasty suckers.”

Confused by the interruption, he turned. Instead of his regular ally in the battle--General Lotus, commander of the Elvin Armies of Morn--a different figure sat perched on the nearest parapet, legs crossed, looking comfortable in her blue jeans and white lab coat, and seeming absolutely at peace with the carnage taking place around her. He didn’t recognize her at first. She was middle-aged, a little older than his mother, and wore big buggy glasses over a freckle-filled face.

Seconds later, memories began poking holes in his fragile fantasy, like flaming arrows through the curtains of ragged black smoke. He’d met this woman before, in a faraway temple in an empty world. How could he forget? It’s not every day you meet your heroes.

She was Julia Profit, author and game designer, ex-Spellbinder, and one-time godlike figure of a whole magical kingdom--and for some reason she was lurking in the nooks and crannies of his . . . was it a dream? Was that where he’d ended up? He wasn’t sure.

Until this moment he hadn’t really questioned what had happened to him, where he was, or why. It had been one nonstop adventure as long as he could remember, which wasn’t such a bad thing.

Still, he couldn’t ditch the feeling that he’d forgotten a lot.

“Um, hello,” he said shyly, giving Julia an awkward wave.

“Hey,” she replied as a volley of huge boulders roared overhead, fired from the ogre catapults. Julia didn’t seem to notice, or just didn’t care.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Julia looked around her with interest. “Where is here, exactly?”

“Luminaria,” he said, slashing at the nearest ogre. With a squeal of pain and surprise, the monster fell back, giving Ben the perfect opportunity to unleash his signature Exploding Kick--all he needed was a good catchphrase or one-liner. . . .

After a few seconds to brainstorm, he came up with “Let’s get electric,” which was pretty weak but still did the trick; and he said it in his coolest voice before jamming a foot into the ogre’s green gut. Slezaaaaash! Bolts of electricity spiraled down his leg and exploded, knocking the monster off its crude ladder.

“Nice one.” Julia sipped a steaming cup of tea and dangled her legs playfully over the tower’s plunging drop. “Wow, I remember days like these. All the action, all the drama.” Gusts of heavy, bone-chilling rain swept over them, clouds darkening the full moon overhead. Down on the ground, ogres growled and barked as they fought one another to scale the ladders and reach the top of the wall.

“The least you could do is help,” Ben said, not that he needed it. Even as attackers scrambled up the decaying stone wall like ants up a fallen ice cream cone, he never worried. He was the hero, the main character, the heart of this story.

“But I’m not really here,” Julia said, setting her phone aside. “And neither are you, Ben. That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “What do you have to talk to me about?”

But as quickly as she’d appeared, Julia vanished, flickering like a dying lightbulb before it finally burned out.

“Great,” he groaned as he pushed the nearest ladder off the watchtower wall. Ogres shrieked and fell away into the billowing black fires. “Talk about a cliffhanger.”

2

Home Alone

Julia’s eyes snapped open as she inhaled sharply, gasped, and then burst into a fit of coughing. Leaning over, she felt around for her cup of Drowsy Bear tea and took a greedy sip. It was still hot. She hadn’t been gone long.

Frustrated, she set the drink aside and tried again. She closed her eyes and focused, reaching out with her mind . . . but every time she seemed to reach the shaggy edges of her reality, she bumped up against a powerful psychic barrier.

Somebody--presumably Ben--had built a wall around his mind, complete with the most annoying hold music she’d ever heard, a jazzy version of the old disco love ballad “When Lips Collide,” which was a pretty awful song, even by her low standards. It was probably Ben’s idea of a joke, but she wasn’t laughing. There was too much at stake. Was it too dramatic to say the fate of the world depended on...

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Verlag
Labyrinth Road
Erscheinungsdatum
2025
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593813391
ISBN 13 
9780593813393
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
398
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