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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

Intent, Resolve, Ideal

Day ???, Year ????.

"Weak. Learn to use the full potential of your seed."

On one side, a young man wielding two red longswords, and on the other side, a little boy lying on the ground, fearfully raising his silver shield.

"I have already told father that you aren't good enough to wield a toy crafted by Hephaestus. His insistence on pushing you ahead when you are unprepared continues to piss me off."

The boy was getting used to his scalding remarks. He picked himself up from the ground, staring at the shield with doubt.

"It is supposed to manifest the power of your seed. Everything you do, everything you feel, contributes to the end product. Using it without resolve won't yield any result."

He raised both of his swords to the front together to form a cross.

"Like this."

A large blowup of flames engulfed the swords almost immediately.

"The manifestation of my intent. These flames can burn,"

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