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... he normal kind of tired, like after a long day of mediocre blacksmithing. No, this was a deeper, soul-crushing exhaustion that came from spending way too much time trying to convince people he was not a legendary dark overlord.

And now, some idiot in shiny armor wanted to duel him.

Sir Roland stood in the middle of the village square, sword drawn, cape dramatically fluttering despite the complete lack of wind.

"Face me, Dark Lord!" Roland declared, his voice dripping with ...

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