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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_ · Real
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283 Chs

Diabolic [R-18] [Bonus Chapter]

In the unsettling yet grandiose room, its atmosphere tainted by blood and carnage, a young man reclined with a relaxed posture. He casually rested his blood smeared, bandaged leg on the seat of a massive chair that bore a striking resemblance to a throne instead.

Though short and youthful in appearance, the figure's stature, smeared with blood, exuded a commanding aura of regality that incited dread, despair, and an ominous sense of impending doom.

In his blood-drenched hands lay a gun and a butcher knife, both stained with crimson. The hand that held the butcher knife rested casually on his knee, which in turn rested upon his seat.

In front of him was a naked woman, whose unwillingness were displayed by her face dyed in tears, her woeful moans, and by her hands that clawed at those cold and lifeless bodies beneath her, while she was forced to bent over, on her knees.