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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

Not enough ratings

73 Chs

Everything

"Chris?"

The young boy moved his face to the side.

"Peter..."

A familiar face greeted him with a puzzled look.

"What are you spacing out for?"

He looked at the small metal plate in his hands. There was nothing but a few small breadcrumbs left.

'Growl~'

A loud sound was made by his stomach in protest. He was still hungry.

"Here."

Tearing his loaf up to split it in half, Peter extended his hand towards him.

"You can have it."

"Are you sure?"

"Go ahead."

Chris moved his hand to grab the piece.

"What are you doing, Peter? Why are you sharing it with him?"

Oliver was against it.

"He needs it more."

"If you give your food away, then what are you going to eat?"

He retrieved his hand.

"I am fine. You don't have to share it with me."

Peter turned toward his friend and pouted in anger.

"Apologize to him."

"Why would I do that?"

Oliver was stubborn. They barely knew Chris, so why was Peter helping him out?

"If you don't, I am throwing this away."

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