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Chapter 68: He Who Struck Without Mercy
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Chapter 70: Scars That Rule a House
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... ’s Tent]
The canvas walls of the Malik’s tent shuddered faintly with the roar of the arena beyond.
Steel rang, the crowd howled, and blood met sand.
Zeramet stood unmoving at the open mouth of the tent, tall and still as a carved god, his shadow stretching long across the rugs beneath his feet. Through the slit of fabric, the arena was visible—Rakhane’s spear flashing cruelly in the sun, his movements sharp, predatory, and deliberate.
Zeramet’s jaw tighte ...
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