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The oppressive heat of conflict presses down as blades shriek in protest, warriors entwined in lethal rhythm. A hitch in their breath betrays them—weight shifted too far forward, balance teetering on worn boots. Your world narrows to the hitch of a dagger’s edge catching dim light. Adrenaline hums beneath your skin, sharpening the scrape of leather gloves against your weapon’s hilt. The stench of oil and sweat fades as instincts take hold. Each dent in their armor maps a history of close calls; every rapid blink exposes desperation. Battles are won by those who listen—to the unspoken tales in a parry’s angle, the silent plea in a staggered retreat. You’ve heard enough. The epilogue writes itself in a single, ruthless strike.
