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... Riven, and I followed Instructor Oscar down a wide corridor lined with glass panels, each one showing glimpses of training rooms, gyms, sparring arenas, or classrooms filled with nervous students.
"You three are the last batch of the year," Oscar said cheerfully, as if he wasn’t guiding us straight into hell. "You’re a bit behind, so pay attention."
Behind.
That word carried a lot of weight here.
The Triangle wasn’t a school—it was a hierarchy. A machine that chew ...
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