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... spoke.

"Blood? You'll need more than a wooden sword for that," he said, his voice calm but laced with confidence.

The man glanced down at the wooden sword in his hand, his smirk widening as he replied, "Really? I hope so."

"You seem to be really underestima—" The words died in Ian's mouth as realization dawned on him.

He looked down at his ripped tunic, his hand instinctively moving to his torso. His fingers brushed against wetness, and as he brought his hand to ...

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