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... side, Calien and Cain moved like twin storms—colliding, separating, clashing again.

They held nothing back.

Their wooden knives blurred in motion—slashing, thrusting, parrying, deflecting. No sparks flew, but the rhythmic thunks, clacks, and cracks filled the arena like a relentless drumbeat.

Each strike came sharper, faster, more precise than the last.

Around the bricked arena, soldiers leaned in, eyes wide, mouths agape.

This wasn’t what they expected. < ...

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