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... nd. It was written on heavy, expensive parchment that smelled faintly of sulfur and ozone—Valen’s signature scent. The black rose sitting on the velvet cushion of the Royal Box wilted rapidly, turning to ash before the wind could even blow it away.
"He’s skipping the brackets," I muttered, staring at the empty seat where the Rival Author had been sitting. "He doesn’t care about the tournament structure. He just wants the boss fight."
"Ren!"
I turned. Kaelen was down on th ...
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