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... , sweat dripping down his jaw. His buckler was scuffed and cracked. The short sword was nearly toothless. But he’d won.

Not with power.

But with experience.

And adaptation.

He turned toward the arena’s far wall, voice ragged.

"...Someone better give me a damn scabbard for this shield at this point."

---x---

Leon turned to the squire.

The orc stood still, head slightly bowed, unmoving in defeat.

Leon raised the dulled, chippe ...

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