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... e comfort of distant laughter. In its place: thick trunks, uneven ground, and the smell of wet loam and pine. Shadows shifted with every step. The trail ahead narrowed into a tight path barely wide enough for two.

Inigo led them in silence, hand raised for halts, eyes sweeping left and right. He wasn’t treating this like training anymore.

He was treating it like war.

"Listen," he said, voice low. "The SAW is powerful—but it’s loud, heavy, and slow to reposition. That mean ...

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