u/karadi_kunji

I have a duke 250, and have done 12k kms on it, and the bike isn't crossing 145kmph. Is there any problem or is that the top speed of the bike

Guys I have written like 10 chapters for my novel, is it good if I publish the first 5 chapters at the start and then 3 chapters a week from then, my story is dark fantasy with a big and deep lore.

And coming to world building is it a good idea to use our geographical world with major changes instead of creating a completely new geographical map

I wrote a chapter for my novel and as a newbie and non native English speaker, the wordings were weak... So I used some help of ai to choose better words and remove grammatical error, can u guys say whether it sounds like ai slop or human types story, cuz i fear ai might have made me change a lot of wording that it'll sound like ai slop

Chapter 1

"Around two thousand years ago, a power-hungry king sought to make a pact with demons. In exchange for their blessing, he wished to gain unimaginable strength and expand his kingdom as far as the sunlight touched the land. The demons granted his wish, bestowing upon the king and his followers the power to command the elements, making the kingdom untouchable by any enemy. Before long, no matter where one traveled, every banner that flew belonged to that cursed empire. When there was nothing left to conquer, the king turned his cruelty upon mankind itself, oppressing his own people for nothing more than his own amusement.

The Twelve Great Families, who had once served under the king, could no longer bear to watch the kingdom rot under corruption. They rose in rebellion, overthrowing the tyrant and destroying the empire he had built. But freedom came at a terrible price. Rivers of blood stained the land, and mountains of corpses stood as monuments to the cost of victory. Swearing that such a tragedy would never happen again, the Twelve Great Families established a collective government where no human tainted by demonic corruption could ever hold authority. Although their own blood carried that same curse, they willingly gave up any right to rule, forever rejecting power for the sake of mankind's future. Humanity, forever indebted to their sacrifice, revered the Twelve Great Families above all others, allowing them to keep their crowns long after their political power had faded."

Year 2143

"Dad, can you please tell us one more story before bedtime?" Ansel asked softly, his childish innocence still untouched by the harshness of the world.

His father smiled faintly. "My sweet little Ansel, I have to leave for guard duty. Someone has to protect this empire, forged by the blood and bones of our ancestors, from those tainted-blood bastards." He then looked toward the other bed. "Leonhart, take care of your little brother while I'm gone."

Leonhart puffed out his chest proudly. "Don't worry, Dad. I won't let a single tainted-blood bastard get anywhere near my baby brother."

Ansel crossed his arms and pouted. "I'm not a baby."

Leonhart grinned. "Yeah, sure. Totally."

A sudden knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Their father walked over to answer it. The old metal door, its once grey-green paint chipped away and rust spreading across its surface, creaked loudly as it opened.

Standing outside was a man clad in full polymer armor, scarred by countless battles. The armor was covered in scratches and burn marks earned over years of combat. He stood over six feet tall, and his deep voice carried a rough warmth. "Hey, kiddos. How are you two doing?"

"Uncle Auron!" both boys shouted in unison, jumping off their beds and running over to hug him.

Auron chuckled before turning to their father. "You're late, Zane."

Zane rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Give me a few minutes. I was telling these brats a bedtime story. Let me put my armor on and I'll be ready."

The smile on Auron's face disappeared. "Raikel's gang and Unnamed One's forces have engaged each other in Antwerp. Because of the storm in the English Channel, the reinforcements that were supposed to arrive in Rotterdam yesterday are still stranded. They won't get here until tomorrow. If the fighting moves this way... we're screwed."

Zane's expression darkened. The thought of that battle reaching Rotterdam was enough to send a chill down his spine. He silently imagined the destruction that would follow as he strapped on his own polymer armor—a dark gray suit with a matte finish, worn and scratched from years of service, its black scorch marks telling stories of battles survived.

After fastening the last piece, Zane looked at Auron with forced optimism. "Well... Antwerp is almost a hundred kilometers away. There's no way the fighting reaches us that quickly without warning."

Auron nodded but glanced around the tiny apartment. "God, this place is cramped. You really need to find a bigger room. You lot are living inside a microwave."

The room was indeed pitifully small. Three beds occupied most of the space, leaving only a tiny corner for a makeshift kitchen. The pastel-blue paint had faded long ago, while the white tiled walls bore the scars of time and neglect. A single white light bulb hung from the center of the ceiling, casting a dull glow over everything. One of the windowpanes had long since been shattered, likely by a stray stone years ago.

Zane scratched his head and laughed. "As if I could afford anything better than this."

With that, Zane and Auron left for their guard duty.

Leonhart quietly walked to the old metal door and pressed his ear against the cold surface, making sure both his father and uncle had gone. After a few moments, he turned toward Ansel with a mischievous grin.

"Wanna go see the city at night?"

Ansel smiled back immediately. "When have I ever said no to that?"

Leonhart climbed out through the broken window and helped his younger brother outside. Together, they began climbing the neighboring building using an old drainpipe until they reached the rooftop.

The late December wind bit at their faces, and the poorly maintained roof was slick with patches of algae, making every step dangerous.

"Watch your footing," Leonhart warned. "Or you'll end up as Humpty Dumpty for the neighborhood kids."

Ansel's cheeks had already turned red from the cold. "I know, bro. You should watch where you're going too, or you'll end up sleeping on a pile of trash tonight."

The two brothers laughed. After crossing several rooftops, they reached the tallest building in the suburb. The rooftop was littered with old chip packets and empty soda cans—the remains of countless adventures they had shared there before.

They sat together in silence, gazing out across the city. The Erasmusbrug Bridge shimmered under brilliant neon lights, while towering skyscrapers pierced the night sky. Giant holographic advertisements floated above the buildings, bathing the streets below in shifting colors. For one of humanity's last great surviving cities, the view was breathtaking.

Ansel finally broke the silence. "Hey, bro... how can the Etherians control the elements while we can't? And if they're stronger than us, how do we even stand a chance against them?"

Leonhart leaned back, making himself comfortable before answering. "Every human has ether inside their body. The Etherians made a pact with demons, allowing them to use that ether to control the elements. That's why they can wield fire, water, lightning, and all the rest. We fight differently. We use our ether to enhance our bodies—our strength, speed, and endurance—and we rely on technology and strategy. Controlling the elements takes a lot of ether, so Etherians usually don't focus as much on improving themselves physically. Besides... we outnumber them."

As Leonhart spoke, Ansel's attention drifted upward. His eyes widened with wonder as he stared into the sky.

"An asteroid!" he shouted excitedly.

Leonhart looked up and frowned. There had been no reports of any meteor shower today. Then he noticed something else—it wasn't falling somewhere in the distance. It was heading straight toward them, and it was moving impossibly fast.

The moment Leonhart realized the danger, he sprinted toward his little brother.

It was too late.

The blazing object slammed into a nearby building, obliterating it in an explosion of fire and concrete. The shockwave hurled both boys several meters across the rooftop.

Leonhart hit the ground hard. His ears rang violently, and his vision blurred as dust and debris filled the air. Fighting through the dizziness, he staggered to his feet and desperately searched for Ansel.

His brother lay unconscious nearby, having struck his head during the blast.

"Ansel!" Leonhart shouted, rushing toward him.

As he reached him, Ansel slowly opened his eyes. "Bro...?"

Relief washed over both of them as they realized the other was alive.

"What the hell just happened?" Ansel asked weakly.

Leonhart's face turned serious. "Stay here."

He slowly walked toward the edge of the rooftop, staring at the place where the object had crashed.

The dust began to settle.

Amid the shattered remains of the building stood a lone figure—a man dressed in a dark trench coat, leaning casually against a long, straight sword.