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Chapter 85—First blood
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Chapter 87—Aftermath
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... roar—raw, primal, torn from somewhere deep and ancient where reason didn’t exist.
His soul force erupted.
It was neither controlled anymore nor measured.
Just pure, unfiltered rage.
The arena floor cracked beneath his feet as he moved.
The fist of men was not running to attack. He launched himself like a ballista primed for fire.
The halberd-wielder tried to intercept—raising his weapon, bracing for impact—
Atheon’s fist went through the ha ...
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