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... hey die by someone else's hand. That was their fate.
"Ulgaro, watch over me," Inga muttered, gripping his sword tightly. A light glimmered in the depths of his pupils.
'For glory.'
Inga craved fame. Fame great enough to be known across the entire north.
A warrior grew as much as they killed. It was an undeniable fact. No matter how noble one's intentions were, the profession of a warrior was ultimately a profession of killing. They gained just as much strength and ...
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