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280: The Savior’s Duty
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282: The Long Walk
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... arms crossed, waiting impatiently for the next round to begin.
“You look frustrated,” an old, short, gray-haired man told the pale girl as he walked to her. He looked old enough to be somebody’s kind grandpa, balding, gray hairs at the sire, messy gray beard spreading across his jaw. Yet even his half-slouched posture carried with it the experience of the years that few possessed in this arena. He carried the same black armband as all the other participants, with a single-digit written o ...
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