The Golden Farce
The blade did not cut. It passed through the fog like a hand through water, and the sound of the impact was a low, wet thud that seemed to come from inside Kaelen’s own skull. He pulled his sword back, the steel slick with a substance that was not blood, and stared at the figure before him. The man was still standing, though a hole the size of a dinner plate had opened in his chest armor. The...
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