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Bertade’s lips slightly curled up. He nodded solemnly, half drew the longbow, and aimed carefully. After reflecting on his past experiences, he adjusted his aim slightly upward.
Tikalo’s body shook like a sieve, and his legs went weak. Sweat beads rolled down his forehead, over his cheeks and neck, carrying the intense aroma of pineapple, as if it were soul-stirring.
Time seemed to stretch on like a century. Then, with a "buzz" of the bow trembling and a "whoosh" of an arrow ...
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