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... as the last raider fell—his skull caved in by Durkil’s huge wooden club.

It was over. The stench of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air, bodies strewn across the battlefield—silent testaments to the price of victory.

Ellison exhaled, allowing himself a rare moment of relief. They had done it.

He turned his gaze toward Durkil, watching as the young warrior caught his breath. He stood tall, club at his side, his humble clothing painted red with the blood of his enemies. ...

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