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... was still brutal.

A sharp, burning line of pain cut down his face—from his forehead, across the bridge of his nose, and down to his jaw.

Blood streaked across his beard, and he staggered, vision blurring for half a second.

Malik stood there, not pressing the attack. He smiled and gave his sword a slow twirl, fire licking off the edge in lazy arcs.

Then, with a voice like venom, he said:

"Now we're even."

*

Alex, in the VIP combatant zone, w ...

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