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Chapter 46: The Price of a Seat
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... led the assault, cutting through the air and leaving a streak of bubbling, seared glass in its wake. A compressed wind-edge followed straight from the front. And from behind — a cone of flame-charged pressure twisted forward like a scythe of heat.
There was no time.
Rejection flickered weakly — instinctive, automatic. Barely a shimmer.
The crowd didn't cry out.
They watched.
Because everyone wanted to know:
Could the one who made the prince bleed ...
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