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Chapter 92: Cliché [1]
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... gs, a straight thrust aimed at my chest with the precision of someone who’d killed before.
I twisted sideways, the blade passing inches from my ribs, and countered with a slash toward his neck.
He parried, steel screaming against steel, and immediately riposted with a cut at my shoulder.
I blocked, the impact jarring my arms, and disengaged, putting space between us.
He’s good.
We circled each other, boots scraping against dirt, both looking for openings. ...
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