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... nd the great iron doors that once protected Astrea's nobles splintered like rotten teeth beneath the swing of Leonhardt's greatsword. Not magic. Not siege engines. Just him—and the weight of momentum.

Smoke bled through the breach, swallowing the clean marble roads in shadow. Behind him, goblins surged in waves. Armour mismatched. Eyes wild. Blades raised.

They didn't need orders anymore. They only needed his back to follow.

Leonhardt stepped through the ruined gate, boot ...

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