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The Prolog

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In a period long ago beings fought amongst each other with great weapons. The weapons, Called Legacy blades, held unimaginable power. Only few beings were strong enough to hold such blades. These Beings... These Blade masters were a reckoning force in any army. Hundreds upon hundreds of battles latter these blade were destroyed. Or so we thought. Three hundred years latter someone was seen holding parts of a Legacy blade. But we will get to that. First...

My name is Aren and I am a Solder in a small army of the north kingdom. And our story starts with me getting the shit kicked out of me.

"Aghhh. Damn you bandits" I said coughing up blood.

"Heh. What did you expect. We are much better that you. Now... WHO HAS THE LEGACY PEICES?!" said the bandit.

"I don't know" I said.

I was then thrown into a wall several times.

"NOW TELL US... Or we kill you." Said the bandit.

"I don't know." I said.

"well you made this choice easy" Said the bandit unsheathing his weapon.

The next thing I felt was liquid drip on me. Followed by a thud.

"Wha-" I said turning around. "John! Boy am I glad to see you."

"I'm glad I found you. If I were a minute more late you would of been on a pike." He said.

"Well at least you got to me in time." I said standing up and wiping dust of my armor.

After we checked the rest of the place we were at we headed to a village near by.

"You know you still have training tomorrow right?" John said.

"Yeah. I know" I said Drinking a pint of ale.

"Well then you need to get some rest." He said.

"Alright." I said yawning.

After a few more pints I headed upstairs for some rest.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Dec 10, 2016 ⏰

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