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... rms folded, watching his young master practice tirelessly under the setting sun.
The rhythmic whoosh of Kyle's sword cut through the air, followed by sharp bursts of mana energy.
Each swing of his blade carried a level of precision that Bernard had never expected from him.
His heart ached at the sight.
'My young master might damage his hands like this. Oh! My poor fragile young master. Lord Armstrong is too much! How can he be so harsh toward his youngest son?'
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