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... d. His voice echoed through the field, sharp and steady. Without a word, he drove his sword into the ground and slowly lifted his helmet off, revealing the man under the helm.

The moment his face was revealed, every eye locked on him. No one moved. Like time itself stopped. They were speechless.

It was Arthur. But older. It was him—exactly as he looked when he died.

His face was pale.

His eyes... cold. Lifeless. Hollow.

Like he hadn’t slept in days.

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