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Guest
Guest
Cekai stood in a small clearing, grinning. The snow was cold, and he was covered in it. Trained to kill at such a young age, made him who he was. Cekai gripped his blade, right hand clenched the fabricated handle. Every minute or so he pictured arrows, or an enemy lunging at him. Cekai raised his blade, and with little effort, took a swipe at the snow covered ground. A veil of snow raised out of the earth, slightly moving forward as it fell.