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Chapter 857: Proper Harvesting of Tantrums
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Chapter 859: An Artillery of Principle
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... painted his vision in a musty brown, when the scent of the earth strangled him, and when insects he was glad he couldn’t see touched him with viscous appendages.
He wanted to cry. To give up. He felt trapped in a burrow, like a rodent surrounded by predators. Terrified that the tunnel he had dug and crawled into would bury him. All that... and the sting in his chest each time he tried to justify giving up.
Three archmages, one at best. Older. Years of training in tactics, war sp ...
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