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... he air trembled with tension.

Livius stood atop a jagged platform carved straight from the mountain’s bones, the wind whipping his dark mane like a beast’s tail. His chest rose and fell with barely leashed fury, bare feet planted firm on bloodstained stone. Around him stood the elite warriors of Fangridge—towering giants with shoulders as wide as boulders, their skin tattooed with ancient war symbols, their arms thick with muscle and dried blood.

And yet... they looked away.

...

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