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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

Glos Pautonnier

Day 133, Year 3000.

Dark clouds started to cover up the sky above Bellmere. The citizens returned to their homes, expecting the deluge to arrive soon.

"123, 124..."

Drenched in sweat, Gawain was doing his daily push-ups, while Irwin was on his back, counting his progress. After the archery bout, the page was actively trying to get to know more people, and Irwin was one of the six people he had managed to befriend over the past two days.

"139...140...Come on! Ten more to go!"

The kid was too enthusiastic.

"Don't move."

Gawain couldn't get himself to be angry at him.

"149..."

A drop of sweat dripped from his nose.

"150."

His body dropped to the ground.

"Done."

Irwin got off his back and wiped the extra sweat off his pants.

"What's next?"

Picking himself up from the ground, Gawain looked at the boy and said,

"Let me rest..."

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