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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

Inter-academic event

In the middle of a desolate plains, people embraced by a intense ambience of insanity, gathered; mumbling somethings to themselves before disappearing in an instant.

Within a kilometre deep circular cavity surrounded by honey brown tinted trees from the mid-autumn season, staircases were carved in a reclining order meters beneath the hollow circle's edge, for the seating of the gathered crowd; at the centre of attention was a translucent dome made of formations, engraved with uniquely sophisticated runes resembling a mandala.

At the edge of the cavity, were VIP rooms with many formations used for comfort and expansion; [Formations] were a distinctive category, drawn from a combination of artefacts and spells; and was a method of engraving runes and rules onto mana instead of physical matter; and commonly found in the Eastern Regions of Miorus.