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- He was good, I'd admit. Despite my best efforts, he got past my guard and the sword stabbed into my side, drawing blood.
- But when my hand settled on his wrist, preventing him from drawing it out, he realised his mistake. Crocea Mors sheared down, enacting a lesson I'd learned early on. My piss-poor Dexterity didn't matter much if I held my opponent in place.
- —Forged Destiny [Book 6: Ch. 13]
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