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... y head, I stared at the canvas of the tent as it rippled softly in the night breeze. Around the camp, the fires were going out one by one. The guards were changing shifts. The wind had shifted. It carried that smell of endings I knew too well: sweat, metal, the kind of fear no one names. Tomorrow, the Hero's army would march against the Demon Lord. And I, Sora, the shadow support, the kid they'd picked up in a burned village, would be on the front line.
Not for glory. For loyalty. Or may ...
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