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... of grin that said she was plotting something diabolical. And knowing her, that something was going to make my day even worse.
"Alright, back on your feet," Seraphis barked. She strode forward, spinning her spear like it was an extension of her arm. "We’re moving on to the next phase of your training: controlled sparring."
"Controlled?" I echoed, wobbling to my feet. My legs still felt like cooked noodles. "How about gentle sparring? Or maybe, you know, imaginary sparring?"
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