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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

Love?

"...That's the most loveliest thing I have heard in a long while....." Mumbled a hoarse voice behind her.

Ela jolted up from the bed and snapped her head to face in the direction of the voice as she gasped at that familiar tone which had become unfamiliar in the past year, and having gasped and snapped her neck in shock and anticipation, Ela sprained her neck, "Ghuk...." With a soft groan she turned to face the voice, uncaring for the pain.

In front of her stood a handsome, pure black haired young man with a soft smile on his coldly structured face, his eyes hid behind a pair of glasses that were made of metal instead. His body was toned and well built but was filled with scars that greatly affected his aura gave him an ideal aura of a dutiful knight with a berserker's demeanour.

If one had to give his contradicting presence a name then they'd probably say that he seemed like a.....knightly berserker.