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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
Not enough ratings
276 Chs

Ithil: Moon.

A young maiden with honey brown, tear filled eyes rushed into the banquet hall and continued to do so, ignoring the frowns marred gazes of the Nobles, until she was about to crash against a pair of snowy white haired couple, who turned to gaze at her with their artic blue eyes which showered her with concern.

The weird thing about this couple was their elongated ears, their refreshing scent, and their heavenly beauty. So beautiful that one could, no, would call a man, beautiful.

They were Elves.

A proud race accepted by nature as their own family and their embodiments.

"Oh dear, what has caused our daughter to tear up?" The brown haired woman's father, asked teasingly, since he didn't even imagine that somebody had dared to almost take his daughter's chastity, while she wasn't even able to find enough strength in her to push away the one who pushed her to such lengths, that had clearly crossed the line.

And that too in the mortal Kingdom.