The first time I saw him, I almost mistook him for death. Not because he looked cruel, but because he looked inevitable. Like something you couldn’t outrun… no matter how hard you try.We had just taken down a rogue faction that refused to submit, foolish men who believed strength meant brutality, that power came from fear alone. They had ruled through violence, through dominance without discipline.The air still smelled of blood, thick and metallic, clinging to the back of the throat. The forest itself seemed quieter, as though it was watching and waiting.We had won.But victory never felt clean.My people stood behind me, their breathing uneven, bodies tense but steady. Some were injured, others exhausted, but none of them had backed down. Not one.That was the difference between us and the rogues we had just defeated.We didn’t fight because we were reckless, we fought because we had something to build.And then… he walked in alone, not afraid, not cautiously, not like a man step
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