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The Blind Swordsman.

A tragedy... An abrupt departure... Death... And rebirth. Pain, rage, struggle, and blood honed a sword. A sword sharp enough to sever through reality and reveal what lies beyond. It unveiled something, Or rather, someone, incomprehensible and unprecedented.... A being who seems to weave the threads of fate. Does he truly exist, or is he merely a manifestation of another's will? If he does exist, what purpose does he serve? Is there really a purpose, or is it just another will imposed upon him? If it is another's will, can he defy it? Can he turn his sword against his creator, A being who literally writes his reality? Or will he be consumed by the abyss from which his power flows, Forever lost in the shifting void of his own making?

_Eshwar_ · Realistic

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276 Chs

A New Mask

Sliding across the door frame, a large stature came in sight a second later and just as he leapt, having put every bit of his strength onto his legs to reach the neck of the one at the door,

"Hic...."

Sounded, before the light from the inside lit up the stature, revealing his father, Nash, standing wasted at the door with teary red eyes.

Immediately putting the knife behind his back, Ken walked back towards the dining with a thumping heart, as he hid the knife from coming in sight with Nash, who steeped in, hiccupping.

A strong whiff of alcohol laden the air dyed with the scent of Florence's hand cooked meal as Nash walked, swaying to the sides while Florence rushed towards him, wiping her tears off.

"..... Why are you so drunk!?" She softly scolded her husband while Ken disappeared into his room.

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