The Distant Journey

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2026-08-20 06:11:30 -

The mud was not merely wet; it was a living, sucking thing that held the boots of the men of the Ninth Battalion in a grip that felt personal, malevolent, and absolute. Thomas Whitmore stood at the edge of the trench line, his rifle resting across his knees, the wood of the stock slick with the condensation of a night that refused to break. The air in the industrial city of Kaelen was thick...

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