The One-Armed Warlock

When life gives you oranges, you make orange juice...or keep them on the counter to grow old and eventually get thrown away. When it gives you a demonic master, you become a warlock; that's what I did anyway. My name is Benjamin, but you can call me Big Daddy Ben - no one else does.

I was midway through my 20s and living a relatively normal life when everything changed. No, I wasn’t accepted into some weird warlock school for gifted adults. Technology failed, all of it, even simple stuff like bicycles. It all broke apart as if an unseen force was dismantling all those wonderful inventions we took for granted. It was magic of course. Magic was reentering the world at an accelerating pace. You didn’t need to live in a fantasy castle or attend online potion brewing classes to realize it; just peeking out the front window and watching your neighbor get their head blown off by an energy beam would do the trick.

This is the start of my (LitRPG) adventure and how I became known to everyone, even your mom, as the One-Armed Warlock.