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... his hulking frame emerging like a shadow made flesh. Each step cracked stone beneath his boots, and the once-glowing glyphs shattered like glass under his presence. Rage burned in his eyes—cold, disciplined fury honed by decades of war.

The Warhound had been unleashed.

Around him, remnants of his battalion rallied to his presence. But the illusion field had done its damage. The battlefield writhed in disarray without clear orders, with two generals dead and the chain of command ...

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