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... Abyss Prison, the ragged breathing of a young man echoed across a small empty arena. The seats were worn and dirty, and there was no stage but a ground of sand. Oscar was on one knee and bleeding from his lips, and right across from him was the Warden, Draven Ciaran.
"What's wrong? You haven't landed a single hit on me." Draven tapped his foot and made a circle in the sand. "Your Prinstyct is still immature."
Oscar wiped the blood from his lips and stood up, cracking his neck wi ...
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