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Chapter 13: The Priest King Descends Upon the Holy City
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... slicing through a slab of butter.
Despite having the numerical advantage, the Ottomains were a bumbling mess. In their panic, they crashed into one another while attempting to maneuver in this narrow strait. They might be many, but they were still powerless.
It was as if the ship bearing the white base black cross flag was a vile wolf eyeing a flock of lambs. If they willed so, they could swiftly capture any one of the Ottomains’ lambs, slit their throats, and trample them.
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