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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_ · Hiện thực
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
276 Chs

Liberation.

A few hours ago.

Back in the room dyed in the funny scent of sex.

After Hertha finished narrating her story that talked how difficult hers and her mother's lives were, especially her mother's.

Of course, Ken only heard the story as he wanted to, even though their stories held struggles of many, who were also in the underground lair, doing much more horrendous works than her own mother was doing;

But, he didn't hear nor care for those.

The fortunate fact about this is that he too knew that the way he heard the story differed.

But, even then

'I don't like it.' Ken though.

What didn't he like?

Their struggles being similar?

Their pain being similar?

Then, sharing a part of their lives coincidentally and unintentionally?

No!

'I don't like the fact I care.' Ken muttered.

Hearing Hertha's story, Ken's heart and mind wavered, making him someone unlike HIM.

It was only then that he learned that he too had a weakness, and it was about an existence called "mother."

If an enemy stronger than him, there isn't any till date, but if, only if, there was an enemy stronger than him and in a situation where he didn't know his enemy's strength, but the enemy knew of his weakness, he, in that situation, would never be able to think clearly and even if it was possible to defeat his enemy he wouldn't be able to due to his weakness being in the hands of his enemy.....

That was an unlikely situation, and was also a situation he wouldn't be worried in normal circumstances, but

'A "what if" existed.....'

"KEN" didn't like taking chances.

If he didn't want to take chances,

He SHOULD be unwavering.

If he wavered at the thought of a mother,

He will get rid of it.

With that thought in his mind, he agreed to help Hertha.

*

Standing in front of Hertha and he mother,

BA-THUMP-!

Ken could feel his heart palpitate.

That shouldn't happen!

He was blind.

He couldn't see!

So, why and what did it matter if the "lump of mana" in front of him was a mother or not?

'Will I let my enemy live if they brought their mother with them?' Ken questioned himself.

His heart felt hollow.

He felt as if somebody or something was chocking him.

He felt uncomfortable.

Everything felt uncomfortable.

'How annoying.'

Ken willed for a sword to be drawn out of his spatial ring, which it did.

He grabbed that unsheathed sword by its blade; learning that his sword was unsheathed only after touching it.

He grabbed the sword's handle, 'Sitting' he muttered in his mind, approximated the body's height by the location of the lump of mana, just before he approximated the location of the body's neck and swung his hesitant sword.

Snuffing out another lump of mana that got sucked into the atmosphere and the ground.

'Snuffing out another lump of mana,' was an act that had become almost an everyday task for him, it was something he was very much used to, something that made him feel nothing anymore;

Snuffing out the embers of life had become insignificant and meaningless in his life.

But,

This time,

The same meaningless action felt liberating.

As if the last thin chain around his neck that he had so become used lowering his head to, since his childhood, finally broke.

Would he run, now that he has finally become free?

Or would he remain there, with his head lowered, like any other beast that never saw freedom?

He would run!

He would run and never stop!

BAM-!

"YOU!! I'LL KILL YOU!!! I'LL KILL YOU!!!" Hertha, who banged on his chest, screamed at his face, snapping him out his fantasy-like liberation.

"....." Ken said nothing and gazed down at the lump of mana that had said 'I love you,' to him without knowing anything about him; now, the same lump of mana was raging as if to jump out of its container and do everything it can to destroy him.

That sight brought a smile on his face.

'..... interesting.' He thought, as he leaned forward, aiming a foot above the raging lump of mana, and

"I-"

Hertha's pupils dilated to the extremes when her lips were suddenly sealed by the man, who killed her mother right in front of her.

It was only when she felt his cold sword handle's hilt on her nape that she snapped back to reality. She wanted to push him away, but she couldn't bring the strength to do so; she then felt his big cold hand around her waist, pulling her closer.

Tears streamed out her eyes, her mind thought differently while her heart thumped differently; one wanted to rip him apart, the other wanted nothing more than the time to stop.

Before long, her eyes blurred as she was on the verge of falling unconscious, being unable to breathe.

"Mhmnpha, ha...ha....ha..." Hertha huffed for air after Ken broke the kiss.

"You love me too much for a casual sex..." Ken said, undoing his blindfold, making Hertha's heart to clench.

"You wanted a miracle and you had it delivered! You can't expect a miracle to differentiate between friend and foe, can you? That would be too demanding, as if it didn't already put in effort to hear your pleas and come right to your doorstep!" Every word he said made her heart clench, as regrets on having been hopeful, surged and clouded her mind, which was already on the verge of being broken apart.

"..... why?" Hertha, who had her head lowered, muttered amidst her sobs.

Confused expression marred Ken's face, which was unveiled of its blindfold, "..... Do your best to kill me..." He said, ignoring her question as he hung his unfolded blindfold around her neck and walked away from the spot.

**

In an alleyway.

A bulky silhouette gazed at Mark, who was adorned in a slightly blooded outfit and a clean but old seeming crimson blindfold, walking away from the destroyed city underground.

The silhouette's both arms couldn't be seen, even his right ear seemed to cut off by something sharp, in one swift motion. He was there, yet he didn't seem to actually be there, as not even a hint of his presence could be felt.

"You too are walking the path of revenge I see...." The man muttered under his breath as his body trembled while a wide grin marred his silhouetted face.

A rat squeaked as it zoomed towards the man's right foot as if it didn't see him and bumped into it. It was pushed back by a strange unthreatening force that confused it, but the next moment, the rat ignored the feeling and once again zoomed in the same path, This time, it easily passed through, as the man who stood there had already disappeared.