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Chapter 6: Foundations of Greystone
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Chapter 8: Winds of Warning
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... training hall. Morning sunlight filtered in through cracked stained-glass windows, casting broken shards of light on Lucas Carter's sweat-drenched form. His breathing was steady, his strikes precise.
He was alone—just him and the training dummy, which was now little more than shredded wood and splinters.
Lucas exhaled slowly, lowering the dulled practice blade. The room still smelled of oil, dust, and faint bloodstains from battles long past.
"Status," he muttered.
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