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The gym was silent, save for the sharp clash of blades. Everyone was intently watching the spectacle unfolding before them.
Parkinson moved like a shadow, his wooden sword slicing through the air with a whistle. Austin barely deflected it with his soul-shard, sparks flaring as the weapons collided. Sweat ran down his brow, his feet sliding back from the sheer force of Parkinson's attack.
"Too slow, Austin!" Parkinson taunted, darting in low. The wooden blade ...
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