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Chapter 89 - The Sword Festival, Part 3 (4)
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... pport. Her other hand clutched at her stomach, fingers digging into the fabric of her uniform as if trying to squeeze the pain out. Beads of sweat trickled down her pale face, her breath ragged, uneven. Even without experiencing it myself, I could tell—this was agony. Her expression twisted in pain, brows furrowed so tightly they nearly touched, her lips slightly parted as soft, shaky breaths escaped.
Her opponent, mid-step, hesitated. His weapon lowered slightly, his expression shifting ...
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