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Chapter 500: The Crumbling Borders
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... remain standing, his breath ragged, eyes sunken deep into a face carved by exhaustion and fear. Mud clung to his armor like dried blood, and the faint stench of death followed him into the tent.
"My... liege," he rasped, each word scraping out like gravel. "The flank... it’s gone. We held as long as we could, but they—"
King Garay’s voice sliced through the air before he could finish.
"Why are you here, commander of the Fourth Division?"
The silence that followed ...
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