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... eying the battlefield. Except instead of swords and armor, he had a rusty hoe, three watering cans, and a freshly upgraded compost pile that smelled like a troll's armpit.

The sun was barely up, the dew still clinging to the plants like nervous interns waiting to be judged.

Thirteen days. Thirteen damn days until the farming competition. Eren was betting everything on this. He needed the land rights, the gold, and most importantly—the legitimacy. No more second glances at the mar ...

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