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The Knight Of Euphemia

"She is the progeny of the devil." The final blow was laid down. A sword through his heart. Followers of hell had slayed the Knight. "A prophet, I am not. But I shall curse this land, which dared to deprive us of our bond. He shall honor my promise, and he shall bring the rot to your land. Not for my selfish will, but for the eradication of true evil." With the corpse of her beloved in her embrace, Euphemia was sealed forever. As the dust settled, a new dawn emerged. 'The Immortal Land Of Euphemia. A place that refuses to wither down even after several millenniums of prosperity. Kingdoms have come and gone, but none of them carried the strength and Valor of the holy land, protected by the will of the warrior goddess Astarte.'

Honestdegenerate · Fantasy

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73 Chs

Cult Of Lorient

Day 90, year 3000.

'Haah...Haa..."

Sprinting through the dense forest around the mines, two young boys had no intention of stopping. Splatters of blood were being imprinted on the ground with each of their relentless slides, escaping from the fresh wounds created by the pebbles and stones present all over the place.

"Don't look back!"

The kid in the front exclaimed.

'Haah...haa."

They weren't going to last much longer. Compared to the fast horses and the people that were pursuing them, sooner or later, they would be caught.

'We have to get to Stonemeadow.'

The leader increased his pace.

'We can't get caught this time!'

His breaths were barely keeping pace with his movements.

'Ngh.'

The numbness in his legs, the sight of the never-ending maze, sharp pain in his abdomen that was constantly rising. All of this was making it difficult to concentrate.

"You brats are going nowhere."

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