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... ce so thick it pressed against the chest like a weight, dense with confusion, laced with discomfort. The kind that doesn't follow a victory, but something else. Something uglier.

And then—

FWOOSH.

A soft pulse of golden light flared above the arena, casting long shadows over the fractured battlefield.

The proctor reappeared midair, cloak billowing behind him, his boots touching down on the edge of the scorched platform with smooth, practiced grace. He landed light ...

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