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The Laughing Swordsman

Only when all the living perish, will there be peace ... Apollo was a bratty noble. Using the power of his father, he did many mischievous stunts. However, he would never go too far. The worst he did was steal someone's shoe, while on the average, it would be poking them in the back and running off. That's why he found it so absurd that someone would assassinate him, in his own room no less. He was stabbed in the back and left to die... But then he was back in his room, completely fine. Yet, he was stabbed in the back once again. Once he was stabbed in the back for the third time, the cruel reality began to sink in. That this would repeat itself for an eternity. The only thing in his room was his bed and his bokken, a wooden sword. At some point, Apollo picked up the bokken. He took his first steps to break out of the cycle. And swore to bury the person who called for this assassin with his own hands. ...But also calls a lot of things mommy for some reason.

Disgrace · Fantasía
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372 Chs

Mirror

Apollo held his breath until his chest felt tight, walking through the shadow world which contained nothing but the occasional grey shadow that passed by. It was almost melancholic with how silent it all seemed.

But Apollo still needed to breathe, so he raised his bokken and tore out of the shadow world, finding himself back into the thundering crashing sounds, meteors, and thick pools of magma.

Apollo could feel the sudden increase in heat wrapping against his skin and saw that another meteor was coming down to crash on him. Nonetheless, he first focused on what he came back here for in the first place.

Air to breathe.

Apollo took in a deep breath, but it was not refreshing. In fact, the air burned through his lungs, making him feel dire amounts of pain. The heat of magma had already taken over, overcoming all the cold and snow.