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... predator’s growl echoing from the depths, a constant reminder that the battle wasn’t over. The shadow of the first wave lingered in the eyes of the fifteen remaining trainees—ghosts of fear etched into their expressions.

Nicholas Davoss stood near the center of the arena, his sword resting against his thigh. His crimson eyes tracked every movement of the others: the trembling hands, the shallow breaths, the glazed stares directed toward the sealed gates.

They didn’t need more ti ...

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