PREVIEW
... y nose, smelling like sweat and dumpster stew. A concrete pillar exploded behind me, showering me in tile dust like the dungeon was trying to bury me early. I ducked, jabbed, and my bargain-bin dagger snapped on the ogre’s shin with a click so pathetic it sounded like, Congrats, loser. You lose at stabbing.
Yeah. Hi. I’m Ethan. F-rank. The F stood for free funeral.
The thing in front of me was eight hundred pounds of gym-bro rock troll, stinking like onions rotting in a gym bag. ...
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