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Legend of Zelda: The Last Blademaster chp. 10
WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence. Reader discretion is advised.
Smoke rose high into the night sky which blanketed the deserts to the south as the city burned.
Chief Terrad al-Asolom stood with fifty of his soldiers in the center of the great hall he called home. Outside, the city or Tormac, capital of Erynvor, burned. The Chief knew very well the fate that his people had been dealt. The same that he will soon face. It could not be delayed, but he would see to it that he made it an end to remember.
Ral-Hem had already fallen. They could no longer help him. Help would not come from Hyrule, either. Just today, the envoy of Hyrule, the one named Benedict, had been captured by the demons outside. Al-Asolom could only assume he was dead. The burly chieftain shook his head. This had all happened so fast. How di
Legend of Zelda: The Last Blademaster Chp. 9
The young man grimaced in rage as he tried to staunch his bleeding. How could he have taken a hit like that? He was losing his touch. His mental programming seared numerous degrading insults in his mind, all aimed at him.
You blockheaded moron! You should have seen that attack coming at you.
You nearly risked the life of the woman because of your stupid carelessness.
You are worthless, boy, always were and always will be.
He sighed. Discipline was a trait he valued and allowed his mind to methodically, almost sadistically, decide a suitable punishment.
A cut on the wrist? No, that's too easy. How about you rip your own arm off and then re-graph it to yourself? Maybe not, you've done that many times already. Let's see, ah, yes. Let's do this
The young man suddenly raised his left leg, grasped it in both hand, snapped it to th
Legend of Zelda: The Last Blademaster Chp. 8
Home at last, back in Hyrule and out of the soul-sucking sands of the desert people. Zelda was hot and tired after the return trip to the border, and though she was satisfied with the answers she had received and the service Lord Benedict would offer by staying behind, she remained distant and troubled. There was something very sinister at hand, something she had felt in the citadel. And what scared her was that the presence was familiar to her. It had been a year since she had felt the loathsome tendrils that made up the dark aura of Ganondorf.
The name froze Zelda's blood in her veins. Ganondorf Dragmire, the thief and butcher from the Gerudo tribes in the desert, Ganondorf's infamy for his brutal, cunning ways never ceased to haunt her in her deepest fears. Zelda had felt this horrible aura when she was with the Nomadic ambassadors. It was fleeting, like a wraith that glided swif
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