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... tal, carried in hushed whispers as if even the air itself feared to speak his name aloud. In the grand estates of the nobles and the narrow streets of the markets, the tension was palpable, like a storm about to break.

"Did you hear?" a merchant murmured to his customer, eyes darting nervously. "The Crimson General—he’s back. After all these years."

"No," gasped the customer, clutching her shawl tighter, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought he was dead."

"He showe ...

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